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I started to object, but she cut me off with a kiss. Her tongue parted my lips, and danced around with my own tongue. I wanted to break the kiss off, and stop her, but I couldn’t. Maybe the beer had made me not care, I don’t know, but I didn’t stop her. I kissed her back instead. My hand moved to her back, pulled her close to me and we embraced passionately, She shifted herself so that she straddled my legs in front of me, and held my face in her hands. Still enveloped in the kiss, she pulled her self close to me, and I felt her crotch grind into mine. She released my face, and reached behind her. A slip of a knot, and her bathing suit top tumbled into the water. She wrapped her arms around me, and pulled herself to me, her bare breasts touching my chest. She started grinding her pussy, covered only by the thin bathing suit material, onto my stiffening cock. I reached towards her chest and enveloped both breasts, one with each hand. I squeezed, and kneaded each one, and rolled her. What a friend!The Monday morning press briefing was a lengthy and hilarious exercise in futility. Ari ordered me, under pain of arrest by the Secret Service, not to be anywhere near the Press Room, and the agent nearest me damn neared died laughing. Ari got hit with all sorts of questions and could barely keep a straight face throughout it. He was hit with the expected questions about what the ‘Experience’ involved (“You’ll need to ask the First Lady that one.”) along with questions about whether the White House was getting complaints about how I played with Stormy (“Yes.”) Some fellow out in LA named Cesar Millan was calling himself the Dog Whisperer and was telling people how bad I was at raising a dog. PETA tried to organize a protest out in front of the White House.The list of complaints was endless. Native Americans, anti-immigration groups, and pro-immigration groups began arguing about the melting pot and whether I was a racist - somebody took the comment about ‘ Heaven only.
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