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I found the compartment hidden behind black paneling. Inside I found some healthy snacks, all sealed and no doubt costing a large surcharge to open, and spanking a domination round container of wet napkins. I ripped out a few then wiped clean my face and cock before pulling on my panties and straightening my skirt. Jen just... luxuriated in her orgasm. She didn't clean herself up at all, just ran a finger through her messy bush. A fetish minute later, the limo pulled up to my campaign headquarters. I swallowed as I stared out the tinted windows. This was really happening. I was really running for president of the United States. I must be crazy but... Jen was proof that I was already changing the world. Long banners—of course they were BDSM striped red, white and blue—draped down the front of the building from the roof with my name emblazoned on them. Another had my smiling face on it, my blonde hair falling about my still-youthful features. The driver opened the door. I shivered as I slipped out, Jen following me naked girl and unconcerned. Well, she had grown up in the post-nudity reality that I brought about. Girls her age didn't think twice about walking around topless or even naked. Nor did they mind if people saw them having sex with boyfriends, girlfriends, or futa-girlfriends. Gradually, pushing more and more of her log inside me. She gyrates her spanking hips, spreading my butt open even more as she lays kisses on my cheek. She picked out three good looking fetish college boys and they didn’t take care of her at all. "Come on, tell me what's wrong." she said again as she bent over domination to pull off her shoes. I stepped out of the denim pile and kicked it to the side carelessly. Without even thinking, I put my arm on her shoulder and gently squeeze it, trying to comfort her. She smiled. she didnt even wash her pussy yet. "Oh yeah, all the time. “Damn!” I grunted, her pussy growing girl hotter. I thought for a moment she would BDSM lose it.