“I’m gonna kill him, I swear this time I’m gonna kill him!” screamed first-lady, Mrs. Jennifer Boyle.

“I go out of town on fucking business and I still hear about his, his, his fucking around?!” Of course this wasn’t the first time that Jim Knox had heard this all-too familiar tirade. As the lead Secret Service bodyguard for the first lady the broad shouldered man had been privy to a fair share of first-family squabbling, mostly about President Boyle’s extra-curricular Presidential ‘duties’.

Tonight however “Big Jim” as his fellow agents referred to him, sensed President Kennsingtom Holton Boyle had trod well over the first lady’s usual tolerated acceptance.

“Come on Jimmy, have a drink with me. You get off duty in an hour.”

“No thank you ma’am. Really, agents can’t be drinking, even off duty. Thank you all the same.”

“Sweet Jesus Christ!” The lady threw back her blonde locks and drained her glass. Attempting to steady herself on her modest 2-inch heels, Mrs. Boyle turned to pour herself another drink but instead slid to the floor with glass in hand and began to cry.

Jim Knox made it across the room before the First Lady spilled anything on the expensive sitting room rug. ”Ma’am,” he said as the first lady leaned on him to stand. The Secret Service man gently deposited his charge to the low easy chair at the right side of the big oak desk (a desk Jim had heard had quite the history). In executing his simple duty the curly-haired agent felt his sense of protection rise for the beautiful, supremely understanding, obviously passionate wife of the President: Jennifer Boyle was a true ‘First Lady’.

How could the leader-of-the-free-world even think about cheating on this woman? Clearing his throat as the first-lady sat back in the chair the Secret Service man broke a cardinal rule of his post, by opining: ”Ma’am, right now, President Boyle is not worthy of your company, let alone your bed.”

Big blue eyes shining, the first lady looked up. ”Why Jimmy, I believe that’s true,” she said through a weak smile.

What happened next was hard for Jimmy to understand, even later on when he had more time to consider it; as he lean down to the tear-stained lady in that well-worn chair, Mrs. Jennifer Boyle, first-lady of the United States, lean up and kissed him. Locked in an open mouth kiss, tongues furious, Jim’s reason exited the well-appointed sitting room-as well as his brain-as the First-Lady reached for and undid his belt buckle.

“No, Mrs. Boyle, we can’t…” he said breaking the kiss. The first-lady’s soft hands were in his open pants, pulling his briefs down under his thick heavy sack, working his rising erection free.

“What a wonderful cock, Jimmy,” Mrs. Boyle said and, as Jim tried to pull back, the first-lady simply smiled…then leaned forward and pulled the handsome man’s now nearly full erection between her lips. The sudden warmth, this lady’s obvious voraciousness-and skill-the fact that he was fucking the First-Lady’s mouth made Jim Knox clench his little cheeks, feel that familiar pull in the center of his perfect abs and then…fount down Mrs. Jennifer Boyle’s throat!

“Mmm,” Jimmy heard the 55 year-old lady say as he felt the head of his cock grow cold. “I haven’t done that in such a long time.”

Attempting to regain his serious pose, looking down at his now drained dick and the smiling slightly flushed lady below him, Jim tried to put himself away and turned slightly…

“Not so fast, honey, you’re sworn to take care of me, aren’t you?”

“Ma’am, I…”

“Now Jimmy, don’t be like my asshole husband and leave me hanging.”

Just being compared to President Boyle was enough to make Jim’s anger boil up over again…and his balls twitter slightly with electricity. Smiling as he covered his wet head, he looked down at the first-lady’s luminescent light eyes, eyes that had graced magazine covers through-out the known world and agreed: ”Yes, I am sworn to do my duty ma’am.”

Although ten years his senior when Jennifer Boyle peeled off her dress she presented a taut tanned body. Ample, maybe even slightly large breasts faced Jim in a deep, slightly pushed-together cleavage of a satin blue bra; the first lady wore high-cut soft panties the same robin egg blue.

Sitting back and spreading her long taut legs, Jim knelt to the Presidential meal being offered, smiled as Jennifer did, then kissed first her inner upper left thigh, then her right. ”Oh, Jimmy,” the first lady moaned as he opened his mouth, leaned in and breathed over the tightly pulled material covering the her hot pussy.

“Jimmy,” Jennifer Boyle repeated as her secret service man pushed his tongue into the hammock that was her panty. Jimmy sat back just as she held her breath. Looking up at the panting woman, he pulled the left side of the First-Lady’s now soaked panties aside exposing the woman’s glistening cunt.

Lapping at her thick lips, Jimmy became infected with Mrs. Boyle’s hot sex smell and dove forward to lap long licks between her gloppy lips.

“Oh…oh…” the lady panted, pushed back and up in the leather squeaking chair as Jimmy slid the woman’s panties aside even more and found her little engorged clit with his nose.

“Your Secret Service detail is ever on the job…ma’am,” Jim said, leaning off the lady for one last look up the amazing expanse of her lean body, then dove head first into her wet and waiting pussy.