Fucking Lauren Smith

Fucking Lauren Smith

In this fictional story, set in the territory of Cochise in the Country of Acirema, no event or person is real and any relationship to anyone living or dead, or any actual events, is purely coincidental.

Also: WARNING; there is cheating that may not be handled the way you want it to be. Please take this into consideration before you decide to read this story.

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When my dream of ultimately playing professional sports was crushed when I suffered a knee injury my junior year at the University of Cochise (Bolder), I was looking for a new possible career. I had always been interested in politics -- not running for office but helping manage a campaign -- so I started taking courses that would prepare me for that.

One reason that I was interested in politics was to blunt Lauren Smith's re-election as representative to the National Assembly of Acirema. Lauren had done things to reduce the funding for athletics at UC and was an obnoxious blowhard who had mean things to say about everyone and who was despised even in her own party, The Cobra Party.

Since I did well in Poly sci classes, and since I had some local celebrity in the sports I played for the Cochise Bison until my injury during the 3rd game of my junior year, shortly after graduation in the spring of 2024 I got on the staff of a Cobra running for the representative to the National Assembly in Cochise's 4th District.

Cochise's 4th District takes up almost a third of the entire territory and is sparsely populated. Its western edge is near the cities of Bolder and Denvert which are high population centers.

While I went to work for a Cobra, I'm an Independent. I hate the fringes of both the Cobra and Scorpion Parties, the two main parties in Acirema. I long for the days of all parties working together.

The guy I went to work for was more moderate than the others vying for the Cobra nomination. I didn't agree with many of my candidate's positions (I'll call him MyMan so that I don't actually identify him) but that was also the case for the Scorpion running for the same seat. According to the Political Science Professor I most respected at CU, campaign workers who actually are not wed to their candidate's positions can be the most helpful because they give a better perspective, especially in a general election, and that is the attitude that MyMan has. Despite the fact that I was only 22 years old my job was just below that of his campaign manager, enhanced in part because I had a private pilot's license (the one requiring the least air time), MyMan owned a small plane, and some areas of District 4 could only reasonably be reached by plane.

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Shortly after I was hired there was a debate among the candidates in Lovely, the largest city in the 4th District and the closest to Denvert (only about 80 km, 50 miles, away). There I met the other candidates for the first time. The most well-known of them was the one that I despised, Lauren Smith, who was the present representative from the 3rd District but knowing that she couldn't win re-election there had moved to the 4th District. I had seen many photos of her in the news, because she loves to draw attention to herself as, along with Mimi Taylor and Alicia Concise, the most outspoken members of the National Assembly. What I didn't expect was my reaction to seeing her live.

What was my reaction you ask?

Let's just say that I had to cover my crotch with a folder to prevent extreme embarrassment.

Listening to her talk I wanted to put a ball gag on her; looking at her tiny but robust body I wanted to fuck her brains out.

My reaction really surprised me. I'm a big guy; 194 cm tall (6 feet 4 1/4 inches) barefoot, 106 kg (233 pounds) and had always dated tall, if not big, women. Lauren is 153 cm tall (5 feet) barefoot, probably about 48 kg (105 pounds) [I never asked her weight]..

Lauren does have a robust chest; one of the rumors about her is that she had mammoplasty augmentation; I wanted to find out if that is true.

After ogling Lauren pre-debate for a good half hour I finally got my head out of my ass by the time that the debate started, calmed my raging boner, and concentrated on filming the debate, which was my job during it.

After the debate I made a point of seeking Lauren out -- she was being avoided by all the other candidates, and despite her popularity in the 3rd District most of the audience in the 4th who didn't know her yet avoided her too -- and introduced myself. "Hi, Mrs. Smith; I'm Dean Compton, a staffer for MyMan. I filmed the debate and if you'd like a copy if you give me your campaign's email address I'll send one to you."

"Thanks...I think," she replied with a quizzical look on her face, "but why would you do that Dean?"

"Just as a courtesy. Even though I'm not in tune with your politics you seem to be devoted to representing your constituents in the 3rd District so if MyMan can't win the Cobra primary I'd like you to."

She was looking at me funny but didn't respond. I gently touched her arm and said "I didn't mean to bother you, if you're not interested..."

She cut me off; "No I'm interested it's just that I'm not a very trusting person and I'm not sure that you're being straight with me."

I smiled; "OK, I'll be honest. You are the last person I want to win if MyMan doesn't, but you're really hot so as a horny heterosexual red-blooded Acirema man I just want to get in your good graces. Does that make you more trusting of me? You chose which of my two explanations you want to believe."

"I'm married you know," she replied with a diabolical grin.

"Does that make you less hot?" I chuckled.

At first she got a startled look on her face; apparently noticing my constant iridescent smile she said "Bullshitter," but then pulled a card out of her purse and said "My campaign's email address is on there."

I made sure to touch her hand when I took the card; she noticed but didn't pull away. "I'll see that you get a copy," I replied with an even bigger smile, and then turned and left. When I got a few feet away there was a big glass panel and given the lighting it almost acted as a mirror. I swear that Lauren was looking at me the entire time that I was walking away.

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I saw Lauren at least a half a dozen more times during the primary campaign. The second time I saw her I asked if she got the video of the debate; she said that she had and thanked me for it. Then she actually engaged me in a short conversation before a potential constituent approached her, so I made myself scare. I always said "Hi" and smiled at her each time that I met her.

The fourth time that I met Lauren I noticed that there was something wrong with the back of her dress. I walked up behind her and said "Mrs. Smith; please don't turn around; it's Dean Compton. There's something wrong with the back of your dress that I know that you'll want a female staffer to address."

"Are you teasing me?" she asked, just turning her head, not her body, to look at me. She saw the serious expression on my face.

"I assure you that I am not; you don't want an embarrassing incident especially after the movie theater incident in Denvert," I replied. She had an "issue" with a man not her husband at a movie theater about 14 months earlier that got her unwanted attention.

"Thanks for reminding me of that," she snarled.

"Look, I really am trying to help. I see your female staffer about twenty meters to the right. Walk over to her, I'll walk behind you so that no one can see the wardrobe problem, and ask her to help."

Lauren paused for a moment, and then said "OK, but if this is a trick I'll have your balls."

As we walked over to her staffer I thought "You can have my balls in your mouth anytime."

The problem was real, the staffer fixed it for her, and Lauren actually thanked me at the end of the night.

My view of Lauren was the weirdest of my life, by far. The more she talked the less I liked her not just for her views but the way that belittled people; she was way too radical and mean for my tastes. The more I ogled her, however, the more I wanted to fuck her. I don't know if it was her pheromones, something fucked up in my own brain, or what. I couldn't understand it but my #1 mission in life was to eventually fuck her brains out.

**************

Shortly before the primary election there was an event in the 4th District that was about 240 kilometers (150 miles) from Bolder, but not far enough to fly, so I drove there. MyMan was arriving from Denvert with his campaign manager so we didn't drive together.

I greeted Lauren as I normally did, being careful to surreptitiously ogle her ass as she walked away. She had come there separate from her campaign manager too.

After the event Lauren went off in a remote area of the venue to talk to a potential donor while I did a bunch of cleanup things for our campaign. Her campaign manager had already left, as had MyMan and his campaign manager, before I saw Lauren walk out to her car. She came back in after a few minutes red-faced. Apparently her car wouldn't start.

I really (cough, cough) don't know why her car wouldn't start. I mean there was nothing wrong with it when I approached it with a Slim Jim and a screwdriver earlier that night (lol).

Lauren went straight to the event organizer and complained, like it was his fault. He got on his cellphone in an attempt to reach a local car repair place in this very rural area, but it was after 20:00 (8 p. m.) and he wasn't having much luck.

I approached Lauren and the organizer; "Mrs. Smith, pardon me for eavesdropping. I'm not in a rush to get back to Bolder or Denvert so I can either give you a ride there, or if your car can be fixed by tomorrow take you to a hotel and then drive you to the repair place tomorrow morning. As you know, there are no suitable hotels here; the closest one is probably 30 kilometers away."

Lauren paused her conversation, motioned me off to the side, and then asked "Why would you do that?"

In a low voice with a smile on my face I said "Because it's the noble thing to do and I'm a modern day Paladin."

She stared at me for a second, and then said "Bullshit," but with a smile on her face.

"OK, if you don't believe that, how about even though I almost completely disagree with not only your politics but the way that you espouse them I think that you're hotter than a Roman candle and I'd like the opportunity to ogle you?" I replied with a bigger smile.

Lauren gave me a stern look, put her hands on her hips, and stared at me; she had to really look up because I'm almost a foot and a half taller than she is. "You've said almost the same thing to me before; you really are the cheekiest bastard I've ever seen in my life," she retorted, with a facial expression that was either a half snarl or half grin.

Right after her statement, where we were staring at each other, the guy she had been talking to got her attention with "Mrs. Smith; I've got a repair shop that will tow your car to their shop tonight and unless it requires a difficult to obtain part can guarantee to have your car repaired by 11:00 tomorrow."

Lauren walked over to the guy, took the phone from his hand, exchanged information with the party on the other end, and then hung up. I was standing watching -- and probably perving at the same time although I obviously couldn't read my own face. After she hung up Lauren turned and walked toward me.

"I don't know if I can trust you Dean; why should I?" she said/asked.

"Because I have no agenda and I'm an Independent. If you're nervous you can take a photo of me and my driver's license to send to your campaign in case I'm a rapist or ax murderer, and I might actually even be able to help you with your son's problem with the law," I smiled. Her son had been arrested a few months before, causing her some more embarrassment.

I hoped that she would take as humorous my statement about not being a rapist or ax murderer, and my statement about helping her son as intriguing.

After staring at me for what seemed like a long time she said "OK, take your license out of your wallet and hold it in front of you just below your chin." I guess she really was going to take a photo even though she and her staff knew who I was, but I wasn't going to object even if my recommendation that she do so was factitious. I did as asked, she said "Smile," and then took two photos with her cellphone, one portrait, the other landscape. She played with her phone a few seconds -- obviously forwarding the photos to someone on her staff with a text, and then said "OK, let me get my go-bag out of my car and then you can drive me to a hotel."

The nearest decent hotel turned out to be almost 48 km (30 miles) away, not twenty about 30 km; as we drove we had as pleasant a chat as could be expected by two people with opposite views on many issues. She saw that I was perving on her thighs as her skirt rose up well above her knees, but she did nothing to move it back down. I think that she liked the attention.

During the drive -- which was in the opposite direction from Bolder or Denvert -- I told her that I was going to stay the night too since it was too late to drive back that night and that way she'd be sure to have a ride to her car. She didn't seem to have any reaction to that. As we pulled up to the hotel I said "I need to eat something even if not a complete dinner; can I treat you?"

She looked at me somewhat askance and then said "Are you trying to get into my pants; you seemed to be perving on my thighs despite the fact that I'm 37 and you're what -- 21?"

"22," I smiled, and then continued "Hey, I just asked about treating you to some food and maybe a drink or two. If I want to get into your pants I'll ask you directly for permission. You've got to realize that even though you haven't known me for a long time that I'm a very direct guy."

After a pause, as I parked my car in front of the hotel, she said "I do have to eat something too and after that event need a drink, so OK.'

When we got into the hotel's reception area I let her check in. After she did I asked "In the hotel bar area, or drive somewhere?"

"Let's just stay here," she said, "Let's meet in 45 minutes."

"OK," I replied, then pretended to check in myself. However, I didn't check in; I planned to spend the night in Lauren's bed, so I just chatted with the receptionist for a while, found out if there was a nearby truck stop where I could get a shower and change -- there was one only a kilometer away -- and then drove there. I took a quick shower and changed into the clothes in my go-bag, and then waited in the hotel lobby for Lauren.

Not to brag, but that night I pulled off being suave and debonair better than at any other time in my life; despite my antipathy for Lauren I was a man on a mission, and although my purpose was controlled by hormones I had all my brain cells working. While I was charming in general three things got me to the Promised Land.

1) I honestly told Lauren that the mother of my best friend at University is the lead prosecutor in the city where her son was arrested and that if her son was sufficiently contrite, paid restitution, and agreed to probation I could talk my friend's mother into no jail time. Lauren actually called her son right from the bar/restaurant and he was on board with what I suggested. I got the name of his attorney.

2) Lauren had too much to drink. As earlier indicated she's a little woman -- only about 48 kg (105 pounds) -- and she had three drinks. I swear that she actually ordered a double for each of her second and third drinks; I didn't encourage her but was pleased to note it.

3) I wrote out a "contract."

With regard to #3, since I put my hand on her thigh every chance that I got -- especially after her second drink -- she knew that I wanted to fuck her. "You're a slimy bastard, aren't you Dean, rubbing you hand on a married woman's thigh" she snarled when I rubbed one of her thighs -- she didn't slap my hand away -- after she consumed her second drink. "You think that I'm stupid enough to let you fuck me and then you can tell the entire world and ruin my chances in the primary, and maybe my reputation."

I laughed; she hit me and asked "What's so funny."

"Look," I said, "not to be impolite your reputation was pretty well ruined by the movie theater incident, and you and I are both hot for each other and no one ever will know. I have absolutely no intention of telling anyone about my sex life whether it's with you or anyone else. In fact, let me show you."

With that I got up, got a piece of paper from the reception desk, and while Lauren watched wrote out a contract. The basic tenant of the contract was that if we had any physical contact aside from inadvertent touching, including kissing or sex of any kind, and I told anyone about it I would pay her 50,000 currency units for sure and any other damages she could prove in a defamation suit and I specifically waived "truth" as a defense. I showed it to her and told her that I'd have the receptionist witness it -- without reading it.

After she read it she had a smile, but her initial response wasn't encouraging "You don't have that kind of money," she snickered.

"Oh, but I do," I snickered back. I pulled up my brokerage account on my phone and showed it to her.

"As a 22 year old how did you get over 150,000 currency units?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"My grandparents gave me the money for University, but since I was on a sports scholarship and also got money from local sponsors, I didn't need it, so it's been accumulating dividends and growth in my account since I was twelve," I smiled, putting my phone away.

After that we changed the subject and talked about things relevant to issue in Cochise Territory, and I sympathized with her complaints about the false rumors about her, including that she once was a prostitute (she wasn't, that rumor has been completely debunked), and that she had gotten breast implants -- I just smiled when she complained about that; I was expecting to confirm or debunk that rumor.

After she finished her third drink I whispered in her ear "I promise to give you your best time ever if you let me fuck you," and nibbled her ear lobe. It turns out that her ear lobe is one of her erogenous zones, and she flinched, and then sighed, as I continued to nibble on it. After a minute or so she pushed me away and asked "Are you really going to sign that contract?"

"You bet," I smiled. I had already paid the check so I took her by the hand and marched to the reception desk. In front of the receptionist I signed and dated the contract I had written out and had the receptionist print her name and email address and sign it as a witness; I tipped her $20. Lauren put the signed contract in her purse and then I led her to an elevator.

After some intense spit swapping in the elevator, and me moving my hands over her ass, Lauren seemed to be completely on board when we got into her room. She got apprehensive, however, when we stripped and walked to the shower.

"Holy shit," she said as she touched my half-hard cock and it twitched. "That thing is too big for me; I have a tiny little pussy."

"My cock isn't big for my size," I smiled, "It's just that I'm a big guy. What did you expect from someone six feet four and a quarter 194 cm (6 feet 4 1/4 inches) in height and 106 kg (233 pounds) in weight?" I asked.

"That thing will hurt me," she gasped.

"I promise that it won't," I replied; "I have experience; I'll let you control all the action."

I pulled her into the shower with me and got her all hot and bothered by sucking on her tits -- they're real, not fake -- massaging her ass, and twitching her clitoris. While Lauren's top looks good in a sweater, I was surprised at how big her mammaries were naked. She definitely has a C cup, and her tits are conical. I'd never seen true conical tits before; I really like them; nor had I ever seen tits that big on such a small woman before, even on the Internet.