Here is another sexy Presidential Slash Fiction story! This one also takes place at the same time as Laura Bush and Condi Rice’s hot rendezvous in a White House closet, and Dick Cheney and George Bush comfort each other as only true men can in the locked Oval Office! And guess what? It takes place on July Fourth!

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Rumsfeld’s Sexy Soliloquy

Donald was tired, deathly tired. His head was pounding; his hands alive with the fire of untreated rheumatism, fingers shaking ever so slightly. He refused to go to the doctor; no Rumsfeld man had ever visited the physician, and he would not break that tradition.

Yet here he was, in pain, both mental and physical. How could he get some relief?

His back arched and ached from studying a strategic map of southern Iraq. He saw the blood red markers that displayed IEDs and held back manly tears as he thought of the brave men and women whose life were lost or forever scared from those cowardly attacks.

He could hear the muffled scream of ecstasy from below…he knew what Condi and Laura were up to. From the Oval Office next door he could hear thumping, the thumping from the humping of the presidential team of George and Dick comforting each other…neither of these items of erotic interest were unknown to the secret service, and consequently, not to him either. his hand twitched involuntarily and he found himself grasping his upper thigh lightly.

As his hand slowly and sneakily traced its way up his thigh and into his nether regions, Donald found his courage flare up inside of himself like a mighty supernova, exploding the red white and blue elements of light within his neoconservative soul. HE would have a decisive role in America’s glorious future! A weaker man would crack, but a man as strong as a Rumsfeld mustn’t snap, for the sake of the spirit of America itself.

He could hear the crack of an early firework in the festivities near the grand Washington Mall. The light from a boomer filled the room a fraction of a second before the loud CRACK of the explosion shook the room-as his hand found its way to his own private Iwa Jima itself. The victory of America and his role in bringing that glory to fruition filled him with a mad and joyous patriotic fervor, the likes of which only great stout men can ever hope to feel.

“Don’t shoot until you see the whites of their eyes!” Donald screamed as his ecstasy took hold!

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Happy early Fourth of July from Touching!