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Alternate ending to "Always Faithful".

"

So here I was, having gotten into his hotel room, which was a hell of a lot farther than anyone else had gotten, and I didn't have the slightest idea what to do next. I could just drop the towels and start asking questions, but that would get me thrown out damn quick. So the problem was, how to ask him a bunch of questions without having him think about being asked questions?

Simple: distract him so he doesn't realize it.

And how to do that?

I thought about how all the other reporters who got tossed out were men, and how I was the only woman to try this, and it's like a light bulb went off over my head. Except this was 1936, so make it a gas lamp.

That's a joke.

Anyway, they hadn't seen me yet, so I ducked back out of sight, reached under my uniform blouse and took off my bra, then unbuttoned enough buttons on front to almost, but not quite, let my tits hang out. I looked at myself in the mirror, pulled a couple of blonde curls loose to make myself look really good, then dumped the towels and stepped back into the doorway.

I heard the President say something to Mr. Official-Looking. I couldn't understand it, sort of like a mix of German and Russian, but Mr. Official-Looking didn't like it one bit. They exchanged some sharp words and Mr. Official-Looking stalked out, not even looking at me, mumbling something under his breath that didn't sound nice at all. The President watched him go, then said something which sure sounded like a curse.

I waited for him to stop, then took a deep breath. "Mr. President?"

He finally noticed me and blinked in my direction. I think he was either thrown that I was there at all, or that half my chest was hanging out. "Yes?" he said in this really strong accent, sounding almost Russian but not quite.

"The hotel sent me up for your massage." It was the only thing I could think of that sounded faintly plausible.

Oh, don't look at me like that. What was I supposed to do, tell him, "Hi, I'm trying to get a scoop for the Clarion. Can I ask you about a million questions?"

Anyway, he said, "Yes, a massage. That would be nice."

"Lie down on the bed. Please undress."

And undress he did, right down to his skivvies. He took off his suit and shirt, pants and shoes. He looked pretty good, too -- lots of dark chest hair, nice physique. When he lay down face down on the bed, I straddled him, my legs on either side. Fortunately, I had done some massaging for friends back in Alabama so I wasn't a complete greenhorn at this.

I started on his shoulders, really deep. He groaned like he really liked it and relaxed. I worked my way down his back, kneading the muscles there, and when I got to his backside, I paused for a second. Then I thought "why not?" and just pulled them down and off. He had this really cute tush, tight and masculine. He relaxed even more as I worked his butt, then when I finished with his legs, I got off the bed and told him to turn over. And he did.

I gotta tell you, he had one of the biggest pricks I've ever seen. And in all the years I've been on this Earth, I've seen a lot. He wasn't stiff at all, just lying there. He wasn't circumcised either -- most European men weren't at that time.

So this was it. I could either go for it and somehow get the story -- and I still didn't know just how that would happen -- or I could step back, leave him alone, and lose my chance for the Clarion.

What was that? What did I do? Well, I'll tell you. His eyes were closed. He was totally relaxed. And I knelt down next to that bed, next to him, and I took him in my hand. His dick was so soft and warm, then he opened his eyes and muttered something in his own language, and he started getting hard.

Oh, don't look so shocked. I know I grew up in the Bible Belt, but being from Alabama doesn't mean I didn't know anything about sex. I was over 21. I had been with men before.

Anyway, he just kept getting longer and harder until he was fully erect.

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