Mitt Romney Writes Erotic Fiction

About Himself

It was 7:30 pm on a Wednesday, and Mitt Romney, former Governor of Massachusetts and presumptive Republican nominee for President, had made a decision. He was going to have sex with his wife Ann Romney. He was going to use his penis to do it. His real penis. And it was okay for him to do that because they were married and also because she was home. Just thinking of her was giving him a stir in his testicles.

But he wasn’t just going to go in there and do it now. First, he had to get ready. He was going to make himself a chicken breast. He went into the kitchen. He found a chicken breast in the refrigerator. He put it in a bowl with a marinade made up of equal parts mayonnaise and strawberry jelly. He stirred it around. He was good and hard now.

Then he boiled a pot of water and dropped the chicken breast in to boil. It swirled around in the hot steamy water, developing a film of mayonnaise and strawberry jelly on the surface of the water. But Mitt knew what was cooking beneath that film. It was chicken. He ejaculated a little bit in his pants. When the chicken was done, he stood at the counter and ate it, just like he would someday stand at the presidential podium, only then he wouldn’t be eating chicken probably.

Mitt was ready now. He walked down the hallway to the TV room. Ann was lying under an afghan, because she was chilly. She was slightly hypothyroid. He shivered just picturing those Lee jeans she was wearing under that afghan. He knew they went all the way down to there, and all the way up too, all the way to her natural waist. And he knew there was something between her legs. Something he wanted. And it wasn’t a maxi pad. But he knew what a maxi pad was. He also knew what a tampon was, even though it freaked him out. But Ann didn’t need any of those things. Because she was in menopause.

“Ann,” Mitt said, “I would like to make love to you, if that’s okay.”

He knew she would probably say yes. She usually said yes unless she had her period, which she didn’t anymore because of menopause. She had even given him a blow job one time when he was sad because his boat was broken.

He took her hand and they walked up stairs. Mitt was breathing heavily with anticipation. He hoped he could hold on until they were naked.

“Oh look,” Ann said, "the cat has a piece of yarn stuck in his tail.”

Mitt moaned in ecstasy.

He closed the bedroom door. They both took off their pants only. Mitt looked deep into Ann’s eyes. “I love you Ann,” he said to her, “Thank you for your loyalty, you are a great mother."

“You’re welcome,” Ann said.

Then he put it in her butt.