Why did that guy said December 7th was gonna live in infamy?
CW For Graphic Sexual Content
The year was 1941. The world was at war. As the world had just been at war and that was called the World War, this second world war was given its now common name, “World War B.”
The American president, Franklin O. Roosevelt, had been pressured from all sides to join the war on the side of the British, who he had just successfully defeated in the Revolutionary War. Roosevelt however, was well aware that if he joined England against Germany, treaties were in place that would force him to declare war on their ally, Japan, as well. Roosevelt was not willing to fight the Japanese, as he was a great fan of the culture and nation. So great was his devotion that his middle name, Ouiabeaux, would later become a term for foreign infatuation with Japanese culture.
In November of 1941, Roosevelt invited the Japanese Emperor Hirohito to the American capital of New York to sign an accord that would prevent any possible combat between America and Japan. Hirohito arrived at JFK airport to a spectacular parade thrown by Roosevelt. The parade took the two world leaders to the Waldorf Astoria hotel, where Roosevelt and Hirohito met briefly in the Golden Board Room for just under an hour to sign the accord. It was then that Hirohito invited back to his own hotel room to participate in a private ceremony.
Roosevelt asked what kind of ceremony. Hirohito only grinned. Roosevelt, intrigued, nodded back and, excusing his entourage, headed to the room of the Emperor. There, the Emperor turned downright flirtatious. Removing his uniform before the American president, he gazed with a sultry expression toward the president and asked him for help with his undershirt.
Franklin gently lifted the man’s shirt, revealing his muscular, firm back. The emperor’s pants fell to the floor after and the president stepped closer behind him.
“Your back is so smooth, so fine and firm,” said Roosevelt, caressing his shoulders and touching the line of his back with his forefinger, on down to the dimples on his ass. Franklin couldn’t take it anymore. He kissed the Emperor’s shoulders and didn’t care if the man kissed back. But he did. Hirohito turned and locked lips with the sturdy American, desperately grasping at his belt and taking his pants down revealing the stone solid bulge in his underwear.
“You’re so hard, Mr. President,” said the Emperor. Roosevelt ripped off the last remains of the Emperor’s garments and rubbed his own manhood hard against his fellow ruler. Hirohito moaned gently and kissed him harder, grabbing his cock and rubbing it forcefully. His desire burned so hot that Roosevelt couldn’t stand it anymore and threw him onto the bed where they fucked like animals, like monsters in lust. The subtle pains and heaving pleasures they experienced bonded them together for life like swans who could never again part. Their bodies, entwined in powerful thrusts and finally in such intensity that their fluids drenched each other in steaming white oceans of passionate discharge.
They lay together, spooning, sticking together, grasping each others skin until morning when their entourages demanded at the door to know they were okay. They were okay. They were okay in a way that two men in love can only dream of. They were as one, as a single being, bound together in absolute devotion and admiration, even, the love of leaders, the love of rulers whose nations depended on them. The love that only power can betray.
And so it was that as Hirohito returned home, his advisors again demanded war with the Americans. With his rule in danger, Hirohito acquiesced to their demands and ordered the attack on Pearl Harbor. Roosevelt was enraged beyond measure. Betrayed, lied to, his love had not only abandoned but wounded him deeply, so deeply that he changed his middle name to “Deeply” and was known ever after as FDR. He addressed the nation.
“December 7th, 1941,” he said, “A date which will live in infamy. The United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.”
Roosevelt wiped away a tear, thinking of the man he’d known- He realized- so briefly before. Of the moment of love they shared.
“The United States was at peace with that nation and, at the solicitation of Japan, was still in conversation…”
He felt like he couldn’t go on. He thought of the man’s hands on him. The man’s firm cock pressing into his skin. He pushed the images away. He was a leader of a nation. He had to say it.
“With its government and its…" he gasped, "Emperor… Looking toward the maintenance of peace in the Pacific.”
He thought of the sweetness of his cum, the hot drips on his chin and cheek.
“As Commander in Chief of the Army and Navy, I have directed that all measures be taken for our defense. But always will our whole nation remember the character of the onslaught against us.”
He declared war against Japan, and the rest was history.
FDR never saw Hirohito again. He died in April of 1945, alone. Harry Truman accepted Hirohito’s surrender without a word in regard to the man that the Emperor had so intimately known. Hirohito lived to 1989, ending the Showa era. He was called, formally, “The Emperor Who Had Known Loss.”
But it was not the war he had lost. It was, truly, his own heart.
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