Michelle & Me

Ever since I learned of the existemichellence of Mrs.Obama I’ve had a “thing” for her. She is a “sistah”, a “sistah’s sistah” you know? It’s just something about her. What’s funny about the whole thing is that she is really not my type. What I thought I liked was natural haired, dark skinned, slim, “earthy” chics but it’s something about her. I heard that her hair was indeed natural and that she presses it out. Oh to see Michelle with a big and puffy Black Power fro…America would have a heart attack, and I would have a hard-on for way more than 4 hours. She seems really down to earth. Her hips speak in a language I know very well like she would lay me down to sleep. So, these and other thoughts like it have kept me awake tonight. As a writer there is only one cure to inspired insomnia…and so I present to you an erotic tale featuring Michelle Obama and myself entitled “Michelle & I”:

8:53 Zulu, 4:53 Local time.

Air Force 2 touched down at Pope Air Field at the exact second it was scheduled. Presidential escorts and Secret Servicemen could be seen talking into their sleeves and making abrupt movements. Snipers were standing by on the rooftops of every building within a three-mile radius of the airfield. Every national and local news station documenting every pseudo-happening…the usual. I was watching it all on camera from inside the command post. The entire office behind me checking and double checking every notification I made. She was more of a logistical hassle than usual, being that it was election season. Barack was off in Idaho, trying to convert the left winged nut jobs into conscious thinkers, a futile endeavor. Everything and everyone was buzzing around me in excitement and anticipation of the First ladies movements. Calculated and coordinated chaos. Me? I just wanted to go home. 6:15am Local was approaching fast and the next shift was already in place since there could be no one in or out of the base while she was around. She got off of the plane, shook a few hands and made her way into the Presidential limousine.

10:13 Zulu, 6:13am Local.

The motorcade, 13 cars long, made its way off of the flight line and towards the road. In the office we all took a sigh of relief knowing that the “Circus” would not be back until it was time for her to depart. Everyone went back to their normal stations. I began to log off of my computer as shift changeover started. I had gathered my bags and was standing by as shift changeover was coming to a close. The command post phone rang, and just as it had begun to ring, every other phone in the command post rang right after it. Every radio began to blare loudly with someone’s chief yelling to the top of his lungs. Apparently, there had been a big snag in the carefully calculated chaos. I picked up the phone but could barely hear the caller over the chief’s yelling “…the fucking gate!!! Why isn’t the…”

Command Post Airman Freshley…

Send someone to unlock the green ramp gate NOW!!!

I looked up on the camera display to see the entire motorcade halted at the gate that my office controlled. Onlookers had begun to walk towards the area. I dropped the phone, grabbed the keys and sprinted as fast as I could out of the door. I could hear my office higher-ups running from the back towards the front office to see what all the commotion was about. Once outside I slid down the flat top railing over the stairs to try to save time, big mistake. I hadn’t realized how fast I was going and what I thought would be an awesome slide turned into an out of control free fall. My feet hit the ground at what felt like 30 miles per hour and I couldn’t stop my momentum. I felt myself flipping forward and in a last attempt to keep from completely road-rashing I threw my hands up with the key ring around my thumb. I was on my feet. I had no idea what had happened but I knew the gate was still locked. I briskly strolled over to the padlock, opened it and pushed the gate back. The motorcade speed threw and as the last car passed I heard a thunderous applaud behind me. Little did I know that the whole happening, 8 seconds at best, had just become youtube gold. I waved at everyone clapping and made my way back up the steps into my office. The whole office fell silent as I entered.

What… what did I do?

The only other black person in the office and close friend of mine loudly exclaimed:

Daaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyum Ninja!

Everyone erupted into laughter. It was a good one. A good play on words apparently. I still had no idea what happened. I sat down to catch my breath and saw the playback of the happenings on the news with the headline “Acrobatic Airman Saves the Day”. I watched myself in awe as the playback showed me sailing off the railing and performing a forward handspring flip as if I had planned it. I couldn’t believe it. We all shared a good laugh about it and I went home. I couldn’t wait to get into bed. I paid no mind to the incident the entire 12-minute drive home. I stepped into my little 2 bed 2 bath trailer and launched myself across my bed.

Ahhhhhhh sleep.

14:30 Zulu, 10:30 am Local

It seemed like I had just laid my head down when my phone began to ring off the hook. I couldn’t even get my eyes open good, but I heard every notification on my phone sounding off. I sat up and saw a plethora of missed calls, e-mails, text, and voicemails.

What in the hell…

My accident had gone viral and every news station and media outlet wanted to have a word with the “Acrobatic Airman”. All of my friends and family had called or text to let me know they had seen me on the news, facebook, and youtube. I began attempting to answer every notification  I had missed but there were just too many of them.

18:52 Zulu, 2:52pm Local

All this hoopla over nothing. I just wanted to go back to sleep. At this point I had been on 3 radio shows, patched into 4 daytime talk shows, and 6 magazines, websites, and newspapers had taken my statement: “I was just trying to keep myself from falling.” I was scheduled to go back to work at 6pm but there was no way that I was going to be able to go back without any sleep. I called the office to let them know that I was going to take a sick day.

Command Post Sgt. Bello, how may I help you?

Hey sir, it’s Fresh. I’m going to have to…

Hey! I’m glad you called. Don’t worry about coming into work tonight. You have been scheduled to go to the White House tomorrow *chuckling*


Yea…that flip you did got a lot of attention which I know you have figured out by now, and the First Lady wants to use you as a face for her “Let’s Move” campaign.

So I guess no one told them you were trying to put me out of the military for P.T. failure huh…

Yea…about that. Don’t mention that at all. It’s been “taken care of”.

Like all things in government…figures. Well, what time is the flight?

My boss and I chatted out the details and I sat back down on my bed in bewilderment. I called my mom to tell her the happenings. Then I skyped my daughter to see the smile on her face. I couldn’t wait to say “look, daddies on T.V.”.

02:37 Zulu, 10:37pm Local

I woke up in a panic and thought to myself “Hmmmm…. that was a peculiar dream”. Only it hadn’t been a dream. The pilot came over the P.A. system in incomprehensible mumbles as the flight attendants prepared for landing. I was really on the way to D.C. The media knew to move fast on something like this because its popularity was fleeting. The news is always slow during election season and people wanted something “cool” to look at. My “flip” was exactly what was needed. It helped bring attention to Michelle’s programs and brought overall attention to the democratic ticket. As soon as I got off the plane there were suited men waiting for me, holding a sign with my name on it. They escorted me to baggage claim and briefed me on all the Do’s and Don’ts and the itinerary for the next day. I was scheduled to do a live-action commercial and voice work for a cartoon commercial being drawn, both with the first lady. The men escorted me to the car and driver that would be assigned to me while I was there. The driver took me to my hotel at the Donovan House and I crashed out.

8:00 Zulu, 4:00am Local

There was a wake-up call scheduled for me that I didn’t know about. I was told that I was to be ready and in the lobby by 5am. Breakfast with Michelle was to be at 6am and the commercial shooting was to begin at 7. I was excited. We pulled up to the White House 15 minutes early for the breakfast meeting. I was given another briefing and patted down by secret service. I was escorted to the “Green Room” at the White House where Michelle was already seated. News cameras were already in place. I sat down at the table and she greeted me. It was apparent that there was a scripted list of questions and topics that she had for me. I figured that I wasn’t privy to any of it so that the whole thing would come off natural. Michelle extended her hand to me across the small table and welcomed me. We made small talk. She asked me things like had I ever been to the White House before, how long I had been in the military, boring stuff. Her last question was, “So…I know a healthy young man like you eats a good breakfast every day. What would you like to eat this morning?” I locked eyes with Michelle and was at a loss for words.

Awkwardly, I finally let out ” 2 eggs over easy, fruit drizzled with honey, buttered toast, and turkey sausage if you have it”.

“Good choice Airman Freshley. You hit all the food groups.”

A suited waiter rushed off and, what seemed like instantly, came back with the food plated on Presidential china. Michelle and I ate as the news cameras filmed. The entire time I was plotting on how to sneak in a shameless plug for my website wordbending.com. In the midst of my plotting and chewing, I began to feel something rubbing up against my leg. I made sure not to make any sudden movements. That was one of the many things that I had been briefed repeatedly, and I wanted to make sure that I didn’t get shot. The rubbing continued and after careful consideration, I realized what was happening. There were only two people at the table, Michelle and I, and she was playing footsie with me. I dropped my fork mid-bite to make sure that I wasn’t going crazy. Before the suited waiter could rush off again to bring me another I held my hand up in a stopping motion and went under the table for it. As I lifted the floor-length tablecloth I saw her legs extended over to my side of the table. As I began to come back up I saw Michelle uncross and recross her legs slowly, revealing to me her secret. She wasn’t wearing any undies. It was so much light in the room, focused directly on us due to the cameras that I could plainly see she was cleanly shaven. Her lips were unique. They were long and protruding past her labia majora. The right lip was a little longer than the left and it sat folded against her right thigh on the cloth chair. I imagine that the motion from above appeared mundane, but oh man, it was a show…down below. All I could think to myself was “damn…how did she pull that shit off”. I hurriedly finished my breakfast and the event came to a close. I stared at her for some form of confirmation but there was nothing. She had an un-breaking poker smile as she extended her hand to say goodbye.

10:45 Zulu, 6:45 Local

Again, we arrived 15 minutes early to the studio so that I could be re-briefed and patted down. Everything was a blur from then on. A world wind of events going down and I knew that soon I would be dumped back off in “Kansas” with Toto. The commercial and voice-over work went on normally. Michelle had given me a few glances during. I thought to wink at her but decided against it.

00:57 Zulu, 08:57 Local

It was all over. The men escorted me back to my car and driver. In the car, there was a gift bag with the presidential seal filled with trinkets. I was mad at myself for not being more forward with my shameless plug. I kept playing the mornings events over and over again in my head.

Mmmmm….Presidential pussy.

I laughed out loud at myself at the thought of getting a go with Michelle but dismissed it. The driver, an older white male, glanced up at me in his review mirror. I snapped back to reality and enjoyed the sites on the way back to the hotel. Once there I was briefed that I would be flying out on a 10am direct back to Fayetteville, N.C.and that a wake-up call had been set for 6am.

02:22 Zulu, 10:22 Local

I had spent the rest of my time in D.C. site seeing and chatting with friends about everything sans the “show”. There was no telling with my mouthy friends. That whole incident was prime for someone to tell the media and make a few bucks.

My hotel room was plush and secluded. The bed was some sort of pillow top that hugged your entire body as soon as you laid on it. It didn’t take me long to drift off to sleep.

04:10 Zulu, 12:10 Local

There were three quiet raps at my door. At first, I dismissed it as my imagination but it came again.

Knock, knock, knock

I popped up and peered towards the door across the expansive hotel room.

Okay, I know I didn’t imagine that.

I opened the door to two tall, suited men. They rushed past me and began to search every nook and cranny of the room. One of the men took my phone off its charger. He proceeded to take the battery out as I turned from the door and exclaimed:

What are you doing?

Mr. Freshley do you have any other devices in the room or on your person.


Are you sure?

Yea! I’m sure. You checked the whole room. What is all this about?

You’ll see shortly…

The suited man spoke into his sleeve as the other stood next to him eying me.

Alright, “Storm” is clear to move.

Just as quickly as they had come in they were gone down the hallway. Before I could close and lock my door, another suited man appeared with a young, long-haired white woman in shades, dressed in a long trench coat. She stepped in and closed the door behind her. The new, suited man stood outside the door. The woman slowly walked around the room, inspecting all the corners and crevices. She came to an open window and stopped. She closed the curtains and turned to me.

Hello Airman Freshley…

Who the hell are you? And what the fuck is going on around here?

The woman laughed as she took off her big shades and reached for the back of her neck. Everything came off at once. It was a mask. I stood there with my jaw on the floor as Michelle Obama approached me with nothing on but black heels and lace boy shorts.

Did you enjoy the show at breakfast?

My heart was beating out of my chest. I had no idea what to do. A million things were racing through my head. “Do I go for it?”, “Has she done this before?”, “Barack is going to have me dumped off in a lake never to be seen again and my whole existence erased…”. In the middle of my panic attack, Michelle kissed me deeply, forcing her tongue into my mouth and pushing me towards the pillowtop bed. Her lips were soft and puffy like I had imagined them. Her tongue expertly explored my mouth as we fell on the bed. She began pulling at my shirt as she let me up for air.

A smoker huh…I like smokers. They’re edgy.

I couldn’t resist the moment. I had to say it.

Like your husband…

Michelle kissed me again, assumingly to shut me up, as she threw my shirt across the room. Everything was surreal. Her curves were breathtaking. I gripped her form as she ground her pelvis against my thin boxers. My manhood rose and had begun to poke its head out of the slit in my boxers.

Look who decided to show for the party.

Michelle backed off me onto the bed and took my manhood into her hands with a firm grasp. She put her beautiful lips around my helmet and darted her tongue around the tip. Michelle’s head game was on point. She almost made quick work of me, but 10 minutes into it I opened my mouth with another mood killing “witty” comment.

I see why my nigga Barack is always cool as a fan…

Michelle abruptly jumped back onto my lap, reeled back and slapped me with all she had.

We don’t use that word around here sir!

Before I could sit all the way up and soothe my face, Michelle grabbed both of my wrists and pinned me down. As we hit the bed she spread her womanhood over me and I entered her. Her back buckled as she let out a long moan that echoed through the room. It seemed as if I had just ruined Barack’s fit. I could feel the top of her yoni grinding against my dick, pushing and displacing her walls. Michelle ground out several orgasms. Never opening her eyes to meet my gaze. But I stared at her. I stared a hole through her eyelids. There was no way I was going to let the First Lady get off on my dick while thinking about another man. In the middle of one of her orgasms, I pushed her up and shifted my body weight from under her. She was easily moved. I jumped behind her before she could turn over and began biting her back. I was determined to leave a mark. Convinced that someone would eventually find out, I figured that I might as well go out like a champ. Michelle buried her face into the pillow top mattress as I pressed my Lingham against the meeting of her buttocks and kissed her neck. I slowly made my way down her back and took nibbles of her cheeks as I pulled her rear into position. Once spread from behind I dove into her with all might. Repeatedly plunging as deep and as hard as I could muster. The clapping noise from our commotion sounded like a single, over-enthused patron at the end of a bad play. I reeled back and returned the favor that she paid me earlier to her right buttock. I felt her insides tighten against me and she pushed her hips back against mine.

        Got damn, this is some good dick!!!

Michelle let her top half collapse against the pillow top as she began to dismount. I hurriedly flipped her over before she could get comfortable.

Unh uhhh First Lady…I hadn’t got my nut yet.

I laid into her missionary. I grabbed both of her ankles and held them in my left hand towards the left side of the bed. Most guys don’t know how to angle it to hit the sweet spot. I hit it feverishly. Michelle bounced around the bed moaning and grabbing at the sheets. My back arched as I was about to cum. I momentarily pondered whether I should pull out or not, but again I figured since I was already living on borrowed time that I’d go for the gusto. I let out a stunted grunt as our secretions met inside of her. I felt her yoni throbbing against my manhood and pelvis as I emptied my reserves. I slowly backed out of her and flopped down next to her in bed. We were both winded. She reached over and caressed my face as we kissed. I could feel that hard “post nut sleep” coming on fast. Michelle hopped out of the bed and began to put her disguise back on. She never looked back. I watched her every move. I wanted to remember every detail of this, my last day among the land of the living. As she walked towards the door I called out to her:

    Wait…Will I see you again?

Definitely not…

Well here take this with you.

I ran for my bag and pulled out an advertising card for my website. The now young white woman took it in her hands and peered over her shades at it.

I already know about your site. That’s why I chose you Airman Freshley. You piqued my interest.

And with that, she was gone, along with the suited man. I laid back on my pillow top bed laughing to myself about it all.

17:16 Zulu, 1:16pm Local
My friend Jamaal picked me up from Fayetteville Regional. During the drive back to Spring Lake, he noticed my awkward silence and asked me:

Man, what’s up with you? You have barely said a word. How was it?

I let out an overbearing laugh and turned to him and said:

Bruh, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you…

© Stephen R. Freshley and wordbending, 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this
material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Stephen R. Freshley and Word Bending a secret but not so secret blog with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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