I'd Vote for that Daddy

[starteroffire]

Makis Keravnos. I'd suck his cock and his asshole. And I'd swallow his cum. He's 74 and looks like he'd be up all night.

[starteroffire]

Francois Sauvadet

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

Newt Gingrich Former Speaker of the United States House of Representatives

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

Lindsey Graham (R-SC) United States Senator

[idvoteforthatdaddy]

Jim Justice (R-WV) United States Senator

He so massive and that makes me want him more.

[idvoteforthatdaddy]

Sid Miller (R-TX) Texas Agriculture Commissioner

[idvoteforthatdaddy]

Michael G. Strain (R-LA) Louisiana Commissioner of Agriculture and Forestry

You can't go wrong with Commissioner Strain and Lt Gov. Billy Nungesser.

[idvoteforthatdaddy]

Lyndon B. Johnson 36th U.S. President

I wish I was around LBJ just to verify the size of olé Jumbo.

What? It not like he wouldn't show it.

[idvoteforthatdaddy]

The Senator from Louisiana

Featuring United States Senator, John N. Kennedy

Chapter One: A Late-Afternoon Favor

In the heart of Washington, D.C., where power hummed like the engines of the Capitol’s endless subcommittee meetings, Senator John Neely Kennedy reclined in the worn leather chair of his private office. The late-afternoon sun slanted through half-closed blinds, painting golden bars across framed photos of Madisonville sunsets, his wife Becky, their son, and the two dogs that waited for him back home. The room smelled of old books, strong coffee, and the faint leather-and-wood polish of Southern propriety. His mind still lingered on that ridiculous Fox News segment—comparing federal spending to scrambling eggs and Sunday-morning sex. Lord, the things a man said when the cameras rolled.

A soft knock. Thomas Grant, twenty-eight, lean and athletic in a crisp dress shirt that hugged his swimmer’s shoulders, stepped inside with a reporter’s notebook in hand and something far hungrier in his eyes.

“Senator,” Thomas began, voice low and edged with daring, “that interview… those words comin’ out of your mouth were downright disturbing. And hotter than a two-dollar pistol on a Saturday night.”

Kennedy’s pale blue-gray eyes narrowed behind his glasses. He adjusted them with one long, veined hand, his thin lips curling into that trademark dry smirk.

“Son, I’m a married man. Been hitched to Becky since 1990. Methodist deacon, substitute teacher, grandfather. What in the tarnation are you implyin’ with that kind of talk?”

Thomas closed the door with a quiet click and leaned against it. “I’m implyin’ that a man with your charm—those tasseled loafers, that silver hair combed just so, that slow Louisiana drawl—deserves to feel something besides the weight of the Senate floor. Let me show you. One time. Stays right here between us, like a secret amendment nobody ever reads.”

Kennedy’s ruddy face flushed deeper. He felt the unwelcome but unmistakable stir in his khakis, his moderately thick 6.5-inch cock twitching to life beneath the fabric.

“This is pure-dee madness, Thomas. I oughta throw you out on your ear.”

Yet he didn’t move. His long, lean legs stayed planted, narrow shoulders tense under the rolled sleeves of his button-down.

Thomas crossed the room with easy confidence, pausing at the bookcase to lift a silver-framed photo of a younger Kennedy and Becky.

“She looks like she runs a tight ship, Senator. Thirty-plus years… does she still take real good care of you? Suck that cock every mornin’ and night like you deserve?”

Kennedy’s lower lip quivered, the words dying in his throat. Thomas set the frame down gently, stepped closer, and straightened the senator’s collar with deliberate fingers.

“No? Shame. A man like you—sharp as a tack, witty as a fox—oughta have somebody who knows how to worship what he’s packin’.”

The senator’s breath hitched. Thomas sank smoothly to his knees on the thick carpet, sliding both palms up those long, wiry thighs. Kennedy’s hands gripped the chair arms, veins standing out like ropes.

“Lord have mercy, boy…”

Thomas unzipped him with practiced care, freeing the senator’s cut cock. It sprang up, thick enough to fill a hungry mouth, the broad pinkish head already glistening with a fat, shiny bead of pre-cum that stretched into a glistening string as it throbbed. The salt-and-pepper bush framed low-hanging balls in a loose, wrinkled sac that swayed heavily with arousal. Thomas inhaled deeply, nose buried at the base, savoring the warm, heady musk—clean skin, faint soap, and pure aroused Southern man.

“Sweet Jesus, Senator… look at this pretty cock.”

Thomas dragged his wide, flat tongue in one long, slow, obscene stripe from the tight, wrinkled sac all the way up the thick veiny shaft, curling around the flared head to lap up the leaking pre-cum with a wet, audible slurp. Kennedy shuddered hard, hips jerking involuntarily.

“Thomas… you’re playin’ with fire, son. I ain’t… oh hell…” The drawl thickened, vowels stretching like warm taffy.

Thomas sealed his lips around the broad head, sucking with wet, rhythmic pressure while his tongue swirled in tight, swirling circles over the sensitive frenulum, flicking rapidly back and forth across the slit to coax out more pre-cum. He hollowed his cheeks and sank lower, taking the thick shaft inch by inch until the head nudged the back of his throat. Wet, filthy sounds filled the quiet office—obscene glucks and slurps as saliva spilled from the corners of his stretched lips and dripped down the senator’s balls.

Kennedy’s pale blue eyes rolled back.

“Goddamn, boy… that mouth of yours is smoother than a fresh jar of molasses. Keep suckin’ just like that—yeah, right there on the head. Lord, you’re gonna make an old man forget his vows.”

Thomas pulled off with a loud, wet pop, strings of thick saliva connecting his shiny lips to the glistening, pulsing cock. He wrapped one strong hand around the slick shaft, stroking with long, twisting pulls while his tongue lapped greedily at the heavy balls—sucking one into his hot mouth, rolling it gently with his tongue, then the other, bathing them thoroughly before dragging his tongue back up the underside in long, hungry licks.

“Talk to me, Senator,” Thomas murmured, voice husky against the wet flesh. “Tell me how good my throat feels wrapped around this big Southern dick.”

Kennedy’s hips bucked, fucking shallowly into Thomas’s fist.

“You filthy young rascal… suckin’ me like a man starvin’ for cream. That tongue—mercy, it’s dancin’ all over my balls like you own ’em. Don’t stop, boy. Milk it. Make me shoot down that pretty throat.”

Thomas moaned around the cock and dove back down, deep-throating with practiced ease. His throat muscles rippled and squeezed around the thick head as he buried his nose in the salt-and-pepper bush, holding there for long seconds while his throat worked in rhythmic swallows. He bobbed faster—tight, suctioned strokes that pulled almost all the way off with a vulgar slurp before plunging back to the root, cheeks hollowed, tongue pressed flat and wriggling along the underside. Saliva poured freely, soaking Kennedy’s balls and the leather chair beneath him.

The senator’s wiry body tensed, flat belly tightening, firm-yet-softened ass clenching in the seat.

“Thomas… I’m fixin’ to… oh sweet mercy, I’m gonna cum, boy. Gonna fill that mouth—take it, take every drop, you hear?”

With a guttural groan that sounded half-prayer, half-curse, Kennedy erupted. Thick, hot ropes of cum pulsed powerfully across Thomas’s tongue and straight down his throat. Thomas swallowed greedily around the throbbing shaft, milking every spurt with slow, firm strokes of his hand and gentle, rhythmic suction, his throat fluttering to drain the senator completely. Only when Kennedy finally slumped back, chest heaving and silver hair slightly mussed, did Thomas pull off slowly, lips shiny and swollen, a stray pearly drop of cum clinging to his chin.

He licked his lips with theatrical satisfaction, savoring the salty, slightly bitter taste.

“Mmm. Tastes better than any damn omelet you ever talked about on Fox, Senator. Thick, creamy… just like a proper Louisiana gentleman should.”

Kennedy let out a shaky chuckle, voice hoarse.

“You’re a dangerous young buck, Thomas Grant. Reckon I’ll be thinkin’ about that mouth durin’ my next committee meetin’.”

Thomas stood, adjusting the obvious bulge in his own trousers and giving the senator a teasing view of his firm ass as he bent to grab tissues.

“Something for next time, maybe? When you want more than just my mouth on that pretty cock.”

He left with a wink, the door clicking shut behind him. Senator John Neely Kennedy sat alone, pants still open, spent cock twitching against his thigh, wondering how on God’s green earth he was going to explain the sudden, sinful smile on his face when he got home to Becky and the dogs.

Disclaimer: This narrative is entirely fictional, satirical, and erotic fantasy, invented for entertainment purposes only. It does not reflect any verified events, actions, or inclinations of John Neely Kennedy or any person named Thomas Grant.

[idvoteforthatdaddy]

Chip LaMarca (R-District: 100) Member of the Florida House of Representatives

Is it just me or does Chip looks like the type of guy who keeps a twink in a Florida or DC apartment so he could get dick down?

Nah… there's no reason for me to think that. Other than he wears way too much pastel, hasn't knocked up that wife yet and has a little dog.

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

“Lt. Governor Nungesser”

Featuring Lieutenant Governor of Louisiana, Billy Nungesser & Chef Emeril Lagasse

CHAPTER THREE: A Memorable Night in the French Quarter

The grand event honoring Chef Emeril Lagasse, hosted by the American Academy of Chefs in New Orleans, had wrapped up in a blaze of applause and clinking glasses. Billy Nungesser, the round faced, barrel chested Lieutenant Governor with his hazel brown eyes sparkling under the chandeliers, had delivered a heartfelt speech praising Emerils tireless support for Louisianas culinary students. Dressed in his classic black tuxedo, crisp white shirt, and shiny patent leather shoes, Billys broad, approachable smile never faded as he shook hands and posed for photos. But as the night wound down, an invitation from Emeril changed everything.

On the way to the hotel, Billys mind raced. Lord, is this man for real? he wondered in his thick Louisiana drawl, his fair, ruddy cheeks flushing beneath the streetlights. He kept stealing glances at the stocky chef beside him, wondering if he could hold back from reaching over and touching that powerful thigh. Dont lose your composure now, Billy. Youre a married man with a reputation to uphold.

They slipped into the elegant hotel suite overlooking the Mississippi. Emeril poured two stiff bourbons from the bar, his salt and pepper hair slicked back, the ceremonial medal ribbon still draped around his neck like a badge of honor. The chefs deep, booming voice with that slightly nasal New England edge filled the room.

“Kick back, Billy. We earned this.”

Emeril sat on the edge of the king sized bed and casually unbuttoned his black suit trousers. The zipper slid down with a slow rasp, and out sprang his thick, uncut 7 inch cock, hefty girth, bulbous head already glistening, nestled in a dark natural bush. Billys hazel eyes locked on it, hypnotized. Without realizing, his own thick 6.5 inch cut cock had swelled rock hard inside his trousers, straining painfully against the fabric, the bulbous pink head leaking a wet spot.

Lagasse noticed immediately and grinned, his warm brown eyes twinkling.

“Looks like you like what youre lookin at, huh?” he said, voice laced with playful energy. Billys face burned crimson. “Dont feel badly about gettin a hard on, cher. Why dyou think I asked if you had anything goin on tonight? First time I saw you tonight, I wondered if you liked to play around with guys. Ive been thinkin the whole damn evening how I was gonna ask you to spend the night and fool around in the sack. Bam!”

Billy swallowed hard, his thin expressive lips curving into a sheepish smile.

“I felt the same way when I first saw you, Emeril. Hell, I been fightin it all night.”

The ice shattered. Emeril already had his heavy cock in hand, slowly stroking the foreskin back and forth over the fat head. Billy reached over, wrapping his broad, thick fingered hand around the chefs girth.

“Damn, thats a beautiful piece,” Billy murmured in his folksy Southern tone, voice husky with enthusiasm. His own cock throbbed visibly, begging for release.

“Lets get more comfortable and release some tension, partner,” Emeril boomed. He grabbed Billy by the face with those rugged daddy hands, thick powerful arms dusted in dark hair pulling him in, and kissed him deeply, tongues wrestling as he undid the Lieutenant Governors trousers. Fabric pooled at their ankles. Billy shoved Emerils pants down fully, unleashing the chefs low hanging balls and that beer can uncut cock. They collapsed onto the bed in a hard, hungry hug, barrel chests and soft pecs pressing together, before tumbling back onto the sheets.

Emerils rock hard chubby belly and tree trunk arms enveloped Billy as the Lieutenant Governor went south instantly. Billys mouth engulfed the hefty uncut shaft with eager hunger, lips stretching wide around the thick girth. He sucked slowly at first, savoring the salty skin and the way the loose foreskin slid back and forth over the swollen bulbous head. Billy worked the foreskin with his lips, pulling it forward then sucking it back while his tongue swirled deep inside the warm, slick sheath, lapping up the steady flow of thick pre cum that oozed like rich gumbo gravy. He moaned around the cock, the vibrations making Emeril groan louder, then popped off to lick long, wet stripes up and down every veiny inch, kissing and sucking the sensitive underside before diving back down to take him deeper into his throat. Billy nuzzled his face into the dark, musky pubic bush, inhaling deeply, then sucked each of those heavy walnut sized balls into his warm mouth one by one, rolling them gently with his tongue while his hand stroked the slick shaft with firm, twisting strokes.

“Ohhh yeah! Thats it, Billy suck it just like that! Bam! You got skills, cher!” Emeril moaned, his booming voice dropping into throaty growls as his thick fingers tangled in Billys neatly side parted hair.

Turned on beyond measure, Emeril flipped the portly politician around with burly strength, manhandling him into a tight 69. Their meaty, rounded asses filled each others hands, Billys full and smooth, Emerils solid and powerful. They devoured each other with competitive fire. Emeril took Billys thick cut cock into his mouth with enthusiastic energy, sucking hard and sloppy, his tongue swirling relentlessly around the bulbous pink head while one hand pumped the veiny shaft in perfect rhythm. He bobbed deep, taking every inch until his nose pressed into Billys dark bush, then pulled back to flick his tongue rapidly against the sensitive slit, tasting the leaking pre cum before sucking the whole length down again with wet, obscene sounds.

Billy matched him stroke for stroke, slurping noisily on the chefs girth, his mouth working overtime. He hollowed his cheeks for tight suction, twisting his head as he bobbed, one hand cupping and gently tugging those low hanging balls while a finger from his other hand teased and circled Emerils tight hole. The room filled with wet sucking noises, heavy breathing, and muffled moans as both men tried to outdo the other in pleasuring the thick, throbbing cocks filling their mouths.

Billys body began to shake first, breathing rapid.

“Emeril… Im gettin close, cher…” Emeril grunted in response, sucking harder and faster, his powerful throat muscles milking Billy relentlessly.

Billy slipped a finger deeper into Emerils ass, and that did it. Emeril exploded with the force of a fire hose, flooding Billys mouth with thick, hot jets of cum while grunting and moaning in pure pleasure. The more Emeril came, the harder he sucked Billy until the Lieutenant Governor erupted too, pumping rope after rope down the chefs throat. Emeril gagged briefly but swallowed every drop, milking him dry with long, greedy sucks.

Panting and spent, they rolled apart, laughing heartily.

“Well damn, Billy! Im mighty glad we met up tonight,” Emeril said with a big grin.

“Me too, partner. That was one hell of a celebration,” Billy replied, his broad smile infectious.

They showered together afterward, soaping each others broad shoulders, soft bellies, and thick limbs with lazy affection under the hot spray.

Disclaimer: This narrative is entirely fictional, satirical, and erotic fantasy. It does not reflect any verified events, actions, or inclinations of Billy Nungesser or Emeril Lagasse. It is invented for entertainment purposes only.

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

John N. Kennedy (R-LA) United States Senator

Since the loss of Jon Tester, Sen. Kennedy is fast becoming my favorite sitting senator… to fuck.

Although, those shoes are not helping.

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

David Perdue (R-GA) United States Senator

[watchingkaine]

October 17th, 2024.

[dadsinsuits]

Ted Cruz

[bigguyinbigskycountry]

The Senator from Montana

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Almost Heaven on the Potomac

Featuring Farmer and former United States Senator, Jon Tester

The Almost Heaven rocked gently on the Potomac, but inside the master bedroom, the air was thick with heat and anticipation. Jack Lucas, his stocky 5'10" athletic frame already slick with nervous sweat, followed Senators Jon Tester and Joe Manchin down the narrow corridor. The pizza and beer from dinner sat heavy in his stomach, churning alongside the raw, electric want that made his skin prickle.

Tester led the way, his 6'1" stocky build filling the space—broad shoulders, thick arms, prominent belly straining his casual shirt, sturdy legs carrying him with the solid certainty of a man who'd spent decades working Montana dirt. His graying brown flattop caught the dim cabin lights, and his weathered left hand—missing the middle three fingers from that childhood meat-grinder accident—flexed at his side. Jack's gaze dropped to the heavy bulge in Tester's jeans: thick, uncut eight inches of Montana beef already straining the denim.

Manchin, towering at 6'3" with his sturdy athletic frame, broad shoulders, and sun-weathered olive skin, walked beside them. He'd already ditched the Hawaiian shirt as they boarded, revealing a chest dusted with moderate graying hair and a solid torso honed from years of boating, hunting, and West Virginia grit. His shorts clung low, and the outline of his cock—nine thick inches, broad flared head pressing insistently against the fabric—made Jack's mouth go dry.

Lucas stopped short on the gangplank, eyebrows shooting up as he took in Manchin's casual boat attire. The senator turned, catching the stare, and flashed a warm, knowing grin.

"Like what you see, Lucas?" Manchin drawled in that deep, resonant Appalachian cadence, warm but edged with steel. "This old coal-country boy still got plenty left in the tank. Don't be shy now—we're all friends here on the Almost Heaven."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, Manchin," Tester rumbled in his deep, folksy Montana drawl, slapping Jack's back hard enough to jolt him forward. "Kid looks like he's seen a damn rattlesnake in his boot. Let's get inside before he hightails it back to the Hill. C'mon, Lucas, quit gawkin' and move your ass."

The bedroom was all polished wood and crisp white sheets, the king bed like a throne in the center. Tester wasted no time, unzipping with a growl and hauling out his thick, uncut cock—veiny shaft, blunt wide rosy head already glistening, heavy low-hanging balls nestled in dense graying pubes. He wrapped his mutilated hand around it, stroking slow and deliberate, the scarred stump adding a rough friction that made his breath hitch.

"Strip, Lucas," Tester ordered, voice gravelly and profane as ever. "Show us that tight little staffer body. Ain't got all night—got wheat to check back home tomorrow, and I ain't leavin' without plowin' this field first."

Jack's hands trembled as he yanked off his shirt, revealing his broad shoulders, solid chest, and the light brown trail leading to his seven-inch cock, already hard and leaking. He kicked off his pants, and Tester let out a low, filthy chuckle.

"Goddamn, look at that thing standin' up like a damn flagpole. You're eager as a bull in spring, ain't ya, Lucas?"

Manchin stepped closer, shedding his shorts. His nine-inch beast swung free—thick cut, broad flared head dark and slick with precum, pendulous balls heavy in salt-and-pepper pubes. He gave it a casual tug, eyes locked on Jack.

"On your knees, boy," Manchin said, voice warm but commanding, that Appalachian drawl rolling like slow river water. "Time to show some respect to this West Virginia steel. Been haulin' coal and runnin' boats long enough—now you're gonna haul somethin' else."

Jack dropped, knees hitting carpet as Manchin's cock loomed huge and hot, musky with salt and man. He leaned in, tongue flicking the slit to lap up the bitter bead of precum, then stretched his lips wide to take the head. Manchin groaned deep, fingers carding through Jack's tousled light brown hair.

"That's it, son—suck it down nice and slow. Just like that. Fuck, your mouth's warmer than a July day on the river."

Jack hollowed his cheeks, working the thick length, gagging as Manchin pushed deeper, the flared head battering his throat. Spit dripped in thick strands down his chin, pooling on his chest.

Behind him, Tester pumped his own cock, the wet schlick-schlick loud in the room. "Goddamn, Manchin, he's slobberin' all over you like a calf at the teat. Look at that mouth stretch—fuckin' obscene."

Manchin bucked gently, fucking Jack's face with measured thrusts, heavy balls slapping his chin. "He's a natural, Jon. Bet he's been practicin' on half the Hill. Easy now, boy—breathe through your nose. That's good… real good."

Jack's jaw burned, throat raw, but his own cock throbbed untouched, leaking steadily. Tester's patience broke.

"Enough jaw work. Get him on the bed—I'm takin' first crack at that ass."

Tester hauled Jack up by the armpit, tossing him face-down on the mattress. He spread Jack's legs wide, exposing the tight pink pucker. Tester spat a thick gob into his palm, slicking his girthy cock, then another directly onto Jack's hole, watching it drip down the crack.

"You ready, Lucas? This ain't some gentle fly-fishin' trip—this here's Montana rough country."

Jack managed a shaky "Y-yeah, Senator," before Tester lined up and slammed in, the blunt head popping past the ring, eight thick inches burying deep in one brutal thrust. The burn was fire, stretching Jack wide, and he yelped, clawing sheets.

"Fuck—Senator, slow down, you're fuckin' splitting me!"

Tester laughed, dark and dirty. "Slow's for city boys, Lucas. You’re takin' every goddamn inch of this farm-raised beef." He pulled back and rammed again, balls smacking ass with meaty thuds, each thrust grinding against Jack's walls, dragging over his prostate.

"Fuckin' tight—shit—gonna ruin this hole, Lucas. Squeeze me like you mean it."

Jack's cock bounced against the sheets, smearing precum as Tester pounded relentlessly.

Manchin climbed in front, straddling Jack's shoulders. "Open wide again, boy." He slapped the wet head against Jack's lips, then shoved in, filling his throat until pubes tickled his nose. "Choke on it while your boss wrecks your backside. That's it—take it all, like a good staffer."

The dual pounding was merciless: Tester's thick girth plowing his ass, wet squelches and skin slaps filling the air; Manchin's longer cock battering his throat, gagging slurps and drool everywhere. Jack's body shook, pleasure-pain spiking with every hit to his prostate.

"Switch," Manchin rasped, pulling out with a slick pop, spit strings dangling. They swapped—Joe behind, Jon in front.

Manchin probed the wrecked entrance, then plunged, nine inches spearing deeper, bottoming out with a groan. "Lord have mercy, this hole's like a hot damn furnace. Squeezin' me tighter than a miner's grip."

He thrust slow but deep, grinding balls against Jack's taint, bruising hips in his strong hands. "Fuck, boy—feels like home."

Tester grabbed Jack's hair with his mutilated hand, shoving his ass-slick cock into the waiting mouth. "Taste your own ass, Lucas. Lick it clean—every fuckin' bit."

Jack moaned around the girth, tongue swirling the veiny shaft, ass clenching on Manchin's length.

Manchin came first, a guttural roar as he flooded Jack's guts with thick, hot spurts. "Take it all, son—every drop from this old river rat!"

Tester followed, pulsing down Jack's throat, bitter ropes choking him. "Goddamn—swallow it, Lucas—fuckin' drink it!"

They collapsed in a sweaty tangle, cum leaking from Jack's gaping hole, dripping thighs, coating his chin. His own cock remained hard, untouched, a puddle beneath him.

Tester slapped Jack's ass, leaving a red print. "Fuckin' A, kid. Tougher than you look."

Manchin exhaled, grinning lazily. "Round two after I catch my breath. This boat's still rockin', and we ain't done yet."

Jack groaned, wrecked and sated, wondering if he'd ever walk straight again—or if he even cared.

Disclaimer: This narrative is entirely fictional, satirical, and erotic fantasy. It does not reflect any verified events, actions, or inclinations of Jon Tester, Joe Manchin or any person named Jack Lucas. It is invented for entertainment purposes only.

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

Erin O'Toole Lawyer and former Minister of Veterans Affairs of Canada