50 Shades of Orange

Chapter 1// Familiar Faces

I awake from my thoughts at the sound of pounding coming from my hotel door. I get up to answer, but more knocking arouses. I quickly grab the knob and fling it open. A dashing man, around the age of 70, is standing in my doorway. His attire consists of a blue blazer over a white dress shirt, and a contrasting blood red tie. His hair is swept over his forehead, leaving wisps of yellow hang in his face. His orange skin contrasts with his whole look, in a sexy kind of way. He is looking down the hall, with his body draped on the door frame. He hits me with a smolder, and my knees begin to weaken. I know this man all too well. I see him every time I close my eyes, and lying in bed with me in my dreams; the man is Donald J. Trump.

"Expecting to see me?" he asks, with a condescending rasp to his tone. "My sources have told me that students at the local university have decided to watch a rally of my supporters. I see that my assumptions were correct on who was going to attend." He eyes me up and down, and smirks to himself

I blush at his comment, and reply, "I don't know what you're talking about, Donnie. Why are you here, anyway?" He seems shaken by my answer, but continues to persist.

"Tell me something," he says, waltzing into the room. I can smell his scent as he passes by: sweat and sage, a deadly combination. "Why is it that you beg me to see you, but ignore my calls whenever I'm in town?" He tries to meet my eyes, but i turn away.

"Shouldn't you be at a conference or something? You must have better things to do then flirt with a college student. You should have learned that the last time we talked," I reply, slamming the door behind me.

His skin folds down his hip, forming perfectly shaped love handles. My mouth begins to water at just the thought of gripping him close to my body, but i shake away the feeling. I'm here for schoolwork, I thought, not to flirt with the sexiest man alive. Donald looks around my room, and my face flushes from embarrassment. Textbooks are pouring out of my bag, and scribbled papers line my floor and desk area.

"Angelica," he says, pulling me towards him. "Why am I the only one who's trying to make this relationship work, huh?" He tilts my chin up to meet his eyes, and I cant help but get lost in them. I slowly move closer to meet his pouting lips, but regain my senses and pull out of his grasps.

"There is no 'relationship' here. Why can't you see that, Donnie? I can't continue on with this thing we're doing-"

"What thing?"

"THIS thing, Donnie!" I say, motioning around the room. " The 'random hookups' thing. The 'constant flirting' thing. The 'utter failure in romance' thing..." My voice falters at the last sentence, and my eyes become wet with memories. I back away near the bathroom and become alone in my thoughts.

I almost forget I have company, until my hips are grasped firmly by strong hands. I turn around, trying to protest, but instead I am pressed against the wall, our lips interlocking in a divine act of raw emotion. I kiss him back, first tender, then strong, attempting to hold his back, but my hands end up grasping his extra skin. I open my eyes and find the skin I have clasped is stretched out at least a foot beyond where he stands.

I move forward, and he follows, not daring to break our connection. As he removes my shirt and unclasps my bra strap, I follow suit and unbutton his blazer. I try to remove his tie, but it gets caught in between the many folds of his neck. He breaks our kiss, and flashes his ravishing smile, making my heart melt into a puddle of red.

He grabs the ribbon of fabric by the knot and whispers," You gotta work at it for your prize." I see what he means, and a wave of arousal washes over me, as I bend down and grip the knot with my teeth. I tug and tug until I feel it loosen, then yank it once more, and the cloth itself breaks in half.

"Son of a biscuit..." I mutter under my breath, but Trump meets my eyes with pleasure. "I wanted a new tie, anyway, sweet cheeks." His breath smells of garlic: So fracken sexy. I pull him close again, but this time I go for the pants...

Only three minutes later are we stripped to the nude, and underneath the sheets. " Come on, Daddy," I say in a joking matter," Spank me. I've been VERY bad." Donald flashes his orgasm-inducing grin, and raises his hand above his head. I shut my eyes on impact, and I feel a sharp sting on my left ass cheek. I am tempted to cry out in discomfort, but I do not want to displease Donald.

"You aren't going easy on me, are ya?" I say, holding back my tears.

"Only the best for my little bitch," he replies, pulling me into another tender lock of the lips.

I turn to lay on my back and face my lover dead on. He leans down and presses his prune-like body against my smooth breasts, and I can feel each individual wrinkle overlap each other. It's warm and saggy, and feels like molding baloney. I stroke his sagging penis, until it can hold it own shape, then leave the bed in search of one of my toys.

"You're just gonna leave a man alone while he's erect?" he says, with a cunning laugh. " You really are cruel, aren't you?"

"Oh, you'll see... " I lift the object from my drawer, and slam it shut with a pelvic thrust. The light reflects back into my eyes, filling me with glee. Skipping back to bed, I hide the object in my buttocks, so Donald won't find it.

"Okay, close your eyes..." I say, and he follows my orders. Slowly, I unplug my anus and lift up the rusty spoon to penis level. Donnie open's his eyes, but it is too late, for I have already began to cut. I saw and saw at the erect penis, not minding the squirts of blood that shoot up on the occasion. Finally, I feel it go limp, and it falls into my hands.

Mr. Trump is in shock, but I do not mind, for I have what I want. I lower my new dildo down to my crotch and precede to insert it into myself. I let out a wail of pleasure, and move it in a back and fourth motion. My hand soon runs out of energy, so i switch to the next. Eventually, I cannot take it any longer, so I remove the dildo.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" he says in between heavy breaths. I almost laugh, but a sharp pain in my lower side pierces my senses, and I let out another wail, though this time, the pain is not pleasurable. I look down at my vagina to find a mixture of cum and blood pooling out of it, and I let out a panicked breath.

"Baby, whats wrong?" he asks with concern. I look up with fear in my eyes, and I feel my stomach expand.

He looks down with shock as he replies, "It has begun." My hips widen to the size of a watermelon, and my uterus expands to the size of a barrel. My breaths quicken, and my vision begins to fade. I let out another scream, and begin to push: push like i never have pushed before. I push for Trump. I push for our relationship, and I push for our child. This is what will save our romance: save US. I push for that. Trump takes a deep breath of air, as I feel the creature leave my body. Finally, it is over.

"Honey, what does it look like?" I ask with pride, but Donald is at a loss of words. I am confused, but as my vision clears, I gasp at the sight of my child: it is tall and thick, with two cone shaped ear-funnels penetrating the sides of it's head. It wears a beige tunic with a brown belt and black clogs. Its smile is engraved in my eyes, as it whispers in a deep, Scottish accent," It's all ogre, now..."