50 Shades of Black: My Night with Sandra Fluke Part II
By Christopher Black, special contributor to The LBT
September 10, 2012
Click Here To Go Back To Part I of 50 Shades of Black: My Night with Sandra Fluke
President Obama’s social secretary Penelope Peet made all the proper introductions.
Fluke Cannot Hide Her Desire
Immediately, I noticed Sandra's eyes. Sandra had eyes like pooled chocolate melted from a Hershey bar purchased from Walgreens. Her skin looked pale and belied her advanced age with its relative suppleness. I could tell she had not worked a day in her life. She had not as much cleaned her own apartment.
“My name is Sandra,” she said rather meekly.
“I know because I saw you speak,” I said. “I’ve never seen a woman so passionate about free birth control.”
She looked at me befuddled. Obviously, she did not understand the irony of her message. “I just think that Rush Limbaugh and…” She trailed off, still staring at me. She was not used to masculine power. She craved it.
“I found your speech inspiring, even if I would quibble with some of your points,” I said.
“That’s OK,” she quickly said. “I need a man that can stand up to me.”
Already she saw me in a sexual way. Ms. Peet was watching carefully. Seeing that we were enjoying each other’s company, she slipped away without any fanfare.
“Just stand up to you?” I asked. “You look like a woman that needs a man to dominate you.”
Sandra’s face started to flush. She shifted to her right side, revealing the full heft of her roundish form. She reminded me of an overly-fed Brooklyn Bolshevik but without the head scarf.
A Quick Escape
“I want you to follow me now,” I told her. I grabbed her wrist and led her through the throng of onlookers. She was unaccustomed to wearing high heels, and shuffled her feet to keep up nearly falling several times. People congratulated her as we advanced to a secret side exit.
The moist, hot summer air hit us like a soothing wave of hot Jacuzzi water. My driver, Clarence Markhem, was ready. He opened the doors to my custom designed, Bentley limousine. “What a car!” she exclaimed.
“It was made especially for me by the CEO of Bentley, who is a personal friend,” I told her. I then told her my story and my history with the tennis pro. I told her that to be with me tonight she would need to be prepared to submit and accept my punishment.
Fluke Surrenders And Submits
She answered with a breathy “yes” as if a spell had taken over her. Feminists put up a strong front, but once a man breaks through their degree of submission is profound. She watched me surveying her plumpness. A beefy fold a flab rolled of her thigh and lay across the black leather seat, but she had no shame in her body.
Once Sandra surrendered to her lust, she lost control of her actions. She clawed at her dress not even realizing it must be unzipped first. I reached into the leather pouch behind the driver’s seat, found my hunting knife and sliced off her dress in a fluid motion.
Fluke Confesses She Uses Timing Method
As the limousine cruised the open streets of Charlotte, I grabbed Sandra wrists and pinned them behind her. With my other hand I tore off her panties. Her breasts were surprising small for her cherubic body but I used my mouth to stimulate them all the same.
“Upon hearing these words, I felt the blood rush from my face. My hands started trembling. This woman that just spoke to 20 million people complaining that she cannot get free birth control uses the timing method.
“I want you,” she said.
“Are you on the pill,” I asked her.
“I just had my period. I use the timing method,” she said.
Upon hearing these words, I felt the blood rush from my face. My hands started trembling. This woman that just spoke to 20 million people complaining that she cannot get free birth control... uses the timing method?
Lust In A Dirty Place
Deciding not to take chances with Sandra’s timing, I violently threw her legs high above her head. I then carefully thrusted into Sandra’s most private place – a place in which no man had been before.
Sandra squeeled in agony at first. He bellowing very gradually turned to gasps of pleasure. Her legs fluttered with each push forward.
I then started to bite her, soft at first but progressively more powerful. She started thrashing like she was trying to escape. I pinned her wrists behind her again.
The pleasure began to rise from the base of my belly to my throbbing manhood. As she felt my climax blooming, she herself began to reach ecstasy. I graciously used my hand to stimulate her further. I bit her ear close to the point of tearing off half of it. “Bite me harder,” she sighed.
I climaxed in waves of pleasure that lasted nearly 30 seconds. As I exited her tight secret place, she shrieked in agony.
Dropping Off Fluke In The Ghetto
I told her, “We need to head back to the helipad and don’t have time to drive you back downtown.”
“How will I get home?” she asked. “There are no taxis around here. Can I come with you?”
“No, you need to go. I will call you if I want to see you again,” I said.
Her nude body sulked against the lush leather. “Grab your things now!” I ordered her.
Sandra fished around the back seat for her dress, undergarments and high heels. I had to throw her stocking out of the door as she slumped out. The neighborhood looked dangerous, and it was very dark. I lowered the barrier to the driver.
“Clarence, let’s head for the helipad.” Sandra watched us pull away in silence, holding some of her clothes to her bosom with the rest at her feet.
The next day at the office, my private secretary had a surprise: a delivery of flowers. The note said, “I must see you again. Love, Sandra.”
