'The Senator from Louisiana'
Featuring United States Senator, John N. Kennedy
CHAPTER TWO: Finer Than a Frog's Hair
The Louisiana sun beat down like a jealous lover on the carport of the Kennedy home in Madisonville, the humid air thick enough to wring out like a dishrag. Sen. John Neely Kennedy, seventy-something but still spry in his red bandanna and workout shorts, gripped the handles of "Margaret," his beloved elliptical trainer named after the Iron Lady herself. Sweat poured down his weathered face, tracing the lines of a man who'd grown up poor in Zachary, clawed his way through Vanderbilt, UVA Law, and Oxford, and now traded barbs in the Senate. His t-shirt clung to his average, sturdy frame, flat chest, small soft belly, wiry limbs, and minimal body hair. His legs pumped steadily, the motion flexing the flat, firm-yet-softened butt beneath his shorts.
From his vantage on Margaret underneath the carport, John spotted him: a young man jogging along the quiet suburban street, shirtless, golden skin glistening under the relentless heat. The jogger was in his mid-twenties, with a runner's tight, athletic build, defined abs, strong thighs straining against loose shorts, and a mop of dark, sweat-damp hair. He went by the name of Tyler Broussard, a local grad student home for the summer, with a smooth Cajun drawl and an easy, curious smile that had turned more than a few heads in town.
John waved him over, slowing Margaret to a stop.
"Hey there, son! Come on up here outta that sun 'fore you melt like butter on a biscuit."
Tyler jogged up the driveway, breathing hard but grinning.
"Senator Kennedy? Damn, sir, didn't expect to see you out here grindin' on Margaret. Saw that video. Whole state's talkin' about her."
They chatted under the shaded carport, the conversation flowing easy like the Mississippi. John's folksy charm was in full effect, laced with that sharp wit and deadpan humor. Tyler admitted he'd always found the senator intriguing, powerful, quick with a quip, that Southern gentleman vibe hiding something hungrier. John's sharp, twinkling blue eyes behind his glasses lingered on Tyler's chest, the way his shorts rode low on his hips. The air thickened with more than humidity. A mutual spark ignited fast.
"You got that look about you, boy," John murmured, voice low and gravelly in his smooth Louisiana twang, glancing toward the house where his wife Becky was inside, likely reading or napping in the AC. "Interested in more than just politics? Or you just out here runnin' around like a free-range chicken?"
Tyler stepped closer, bold in the heat.
"Hell yeah, Senator. Been wonderin' what a man like you tastes like."
They moved deeper into the carport's shadows, behind Margaret and John's parked SUV, hearts pounding as they kept watch for neighbors or Becky stirring. John pulled Tyler in first, their mouths crashing together in a hungry kiss, sweat-slick and urgent. John's hand slid down, gripping the young man's hardening cock through his shorts, stroking it firm and slow, thumb rubbing the tip through the fabric until a damp spot formed.
"Lord have mercy," John drawled between kisses, his Louisiana upbringing coloring every word like cane syrup. "You feel mighty fine already. Get on your knees, son. Let's see if you can handle a senator's agenda. Time to put up or shut up."
Tyler dropped eagerly, yanking down John's shorts and underwear. The older man's thick cock sprang free, roughly 6.5 inches erect, straight with a broad tapered pinkish head, already leaking a clear bead in the steamy air above his heavy, low-hanging balls in their pendulous sac. Minimal body hair framed it. Tyler wrapped one hand around the base and began stroking slowly, twisting his wrist on the upstroke, smearing the precum over the head with his thumb. He leaned in and licked a long, wet stripe from the underside of the balls all the way up the shaft, tasting salt and musk.
John groaned low, one hand resting on Tyler's dark hair.
"That's it… just like that. Work that hand, boy. Feel how hard you got me already. Faster than green grass through a goose."
Tyler took him deep into his mouth, tongue swirling around the broad head, sucking with wet, sloppy enthusiasm. Saliva dripped down John's shaft as Tyler bobbed, hollowing his cheeks, one hand pumping the base while the other reached up to cup and roll the heavy balls. He pulled off with a wet pop and spat on the shaft, stroking faster now, the wet sounds loud in the humid air. Then he dove back down, taking more, gagging softly as the head nudged the back of his throat.
"Mmm, yeah. Use that tongue. Goddamn, you're good. Use that head like you mean it."
John's hips gave a gentle thrust into the warm, wet heat. Eyes darted around for onlookers. The risk made it hotter, the humid Louisiana air, the distant hum of cicadas, Margaret standing silent witness.
"You're so beautiful," John remarked, voice thick. "I can't believe this old man's dick is in a fine boy's mouth."
An overwhelming tingling sensation rushed through Tyler's body and he made an audible groan around the cock. Tyler looked down from John's eyes and into the sparse bush directly in front of him.
"That's right, explore it," Kennedy muttered as he pushed Tyler's head deeper, brushing the hair against the young man's nose. "Put your nose right in there. Take a good whiff."
Tyler inhaled deeply. The scent was musky, sweaty, dirty from the workout. Saliva flooded his mouth. He sucked furiously now, deepthroating until John's wiry legs shook. One of Tyler's hands dropped to his own shorts, shoving them down enough to free his hard cock. He stroked himself in time with the bobbing of his head, fist flying over his shaft, precum slicking the way.
They locked eyes for a few moments. Without saying anything more, John softly started pumping his dick in Tyler's mouth, letting out a huge moan.
"I knew you had it in you. Look at you, jackin' that pretty thing while you suck."
It sent a rush down Tyler's spine. He sucked harder, fist pumping faster on himself. John pulled his cock out of Tyler's mouth and tilted his hips. He plopped his heavy balls onto Tyler's face and shoved the young man's head into the soft skin.
"Lick your senator's taint, boy. Get in there good."
Tyler did without hesitation, tongue flattening and lapping at the sensitive strip of skin, making out with every crevice, nose buried against the sac. John's balls bounced lightly against his face as the senator rocked. Tyler stroked himself harder, hips jerking into his fist, the dual sensation of the musky crotch and his own hand driving him wild.
"I'm gonna cum, boy. Make this old man shoot."
Without hesitation, Tyler put Kennedy's cock back in his mouth, one hand still flying on his own dick. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked with everything he had, tongue working the underside ridge.
"Shit, boy, I'm close," John gasped in his signature drawl. "Gonna paint that pretty throat if you keep that up."
He grabbed Tyler's head and couldn't hold back anymore. He pumped a huge load into the young man's mouth, thick ropes flooding over the tongue. Cum dribbled out the sides as he thrust again, filling him even more. He slowly pulled back and gave one more intense pump, unloading the last of it. Tyler swallowed what he could, some spilling down his chin, all while still stroking himself rapidly, balls tightening.
Kennedy sat heavily on a nearby chair, breathing hard, and quickly pulled Tyler in front of him. He took the younger man's cock in his hand, gently cupping the tight balls and then stroking the shaft soft and slow at first, thumb circling the wet head. Then he leaned forward and took Tyler into his mouth. He sucked with surprising skill, soft and gentle at first, massaging with his tongue in wet, warm circles. The older man hummed around the shaft, one hand still rolling Tyler's balls.
Tyler grabbed John's silver-gray hair and started fucking into the senator's mouth. No matter how hard he shoved his cock down that throat, the older man took it and pushed his face against the crotch for more, swallowing around him. Tyler's fist had been replaced by that skilled mouth and the sensation pushed him over.
"Gonna cum, Senator," Tyler gasped.
John only sucked harder, cheeks hollowed. Tyler came hard, pulsing ropes down the senator's throat. Kennedy swallowed every drop, milking the shaft with his lips until Tyler shuddered and softened.
Kennedy stood, tucked his still-dripping cock back into his shorts, and adjusted himself. Panting, they cleaned up quick with a towel from John's workout bag, eyes scanning the street.
"Whew," John chuckled, voice returning to that familiar deadpan humor as he wiped his glasses. "That was finer than a frog's hair split four ways. Better head inside 'fore Becky wonders why I'm takin' so long on Margaret. You come jog by again sometime, hear? Don't make me wait like a cat on a fat rat."
Tyler winked, still flushed, pulling his shorts up.
"Wouldn't miss it, sir."
John retreated into the blessed AC of the house, body buzzing, a sly smile on his broad face as the door clicked shut behind him.
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 Tyler Broussard.
