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Nick was just getting into bed when he heard his phone buzz. It was a text from his boyfriend.
Party’s getting pretty wild tonight
I was going to go to bed early
Its your kind of wild
If you know what I mean
I got your favorite chauffeur cuz I figured you wouldn’t wanna walk
Ugh… fine
He was changing out of his pajamas when he heard a knock at the door. He quickly slid on his favorite booty shorts, but he wasn’t fast enough on the shirt. The door was ripped from its hinges, crashing to the ground. Nick could hear an engine revving. It was so hot. A smooth tire climbed its way up Nick’s back to his exposed shoulder. He felt a cool headlight press against his neck.
“Climb inside me you sexy twink. I reserved shotgun just for you,” Lightning McQueen whispered.
“I’ll meet you outside.” Nick threw on his sluttiest top (like a shirt, not Gatsby) and scampered through his mess of a doorway.
It had been a while since Nick had felt the smooth leather of McQueen’s interior. Peter, Miles, and Gwen were all sharing the back seat as usual, sucking whatever surface or protrusion they could get their mouths around. Nick slowly ran his tongue up the dashboard, making sure to savor the taste of the grooved plastic. As he massaged the backrest, he could feel that McQueen had already turned the heated seat on. Leaving foreplay behind, Nick squeezed the gearshift through his juicy lips and began to deepthroat it. McQueen moaned as he released a few ropes of pre-exhaust from his pipe. With his mouth still around the gearshift, Nick slid off his booty shorts and shoved the seat belt buckle as far up his ass as humanly possible. The blunt edges made the way up there pleasurably painful. It was a shame the ride to Gatsby’s was so short because by the time the buckle had reached Nick’s prostate it was already time to leave. He pulled his booty shorts up as he shimmied out the window.
“Bye Nick, you dumb hoe!” shouted Peter. Nick gave him a wink.
But as Nick opened the front door, he realized something was off. There was no light coming from any of the windows, and no sound of crowds. He opened the front door, and sure enough, no one was there. Nick scurried up the stairs to Gatsby’s suite to figure out what was going on. When he got to the door he realized. Nick recognized that moan. He threw open the door, and, as predicted, there was the whore in chief himself, Bill Jefferson Clinton, in nothing but a leather thong.
“Hola, Nick. Quiero revolver mi enorme polla por su apretado culo, pero ambos sabemos que no puede tomarme. Usted intentó atrás antes de mi campaña, pero ni siquiera el más poderoso de los fondos de poder puede tomar mi hot dog corpulento de quince pulgadas. Gatsby está en el cuarto de baño vomitando porque cometió el error de tratar de profundizar en mi garganta. Kinky, ¿verdad? Usted puede intentar si usted desea, he crecido para gozar de los gritos de los tornos arrogantes que mi polla penetra, pero primero usted debe firmar esta renuncia que promete que usted no me demandará para cualquier daño físico o psicológico causado por nuestro intento fallido en sexo anal. He pasado una fortuna en juicios a lo largo de los años, y no puedo pagar otra. Necesito que sepas en qué te estás consiguiendo. Soy Bill Clinton y mi polla no es ninguna broma. ¿Me oye? Firme aquí. Oh, ¿no tienes un bolígrafo? Si me hace bastante caliente puede utilizar mi pluma de quince pulgadas. He hecho que los jueces acepten firmas en el precum antes. A Daddy Bill le encanta cuando se trata de unos twinks como si se mostraran sus enormes asnos, así que échales esos pantalones cortos y twerk para mí. Eso me encenderá. Si Gatsby está hecho en el cuarto de baño que dos podrían poner en un espectáculo. Ya que no puedo superar a nadie por más de treinta segundos antes de que se ejecuten gritando me gusta tener anal vicariously a través de hotties como usted dos. Abre las mejillas de tu culo de par en par y deja que Gatsby deslice su polla enano directamente allí. Quiero ver.”
All of the spanish intimidated Nick, because he didn’t speak spanish, but then he remembered that Bill Clinton’s spanish was translated for reader convenience, so he understood.
“Gatsby, what have I told you about bringing Bill home. We can have a threesome with any other man but this one. I’d be down with Bush, Obama, Biden, even the dump truck himself, but Bill is too much.”
“I know Nick, I promise this will be the last time. But we can’t let him go on telling the world that no one can take him. You and I are both veterans of Bill Clinton’s cock and I think it's time the two of us take him down together.”
“What do you mean together?”
“You bottom and I’ll be here for moral support.”
Nick wasn’t sure he liked this plan, but he loved a good opportunity to prove himself. for too long, bottoms had been subjugated in the bedroom. Nick was tired of being treated like a sophisticated sex doll by Gatsby and every other man he bottomed for. He was tired of the assumption that bottoms are submissive by default, because that wasn’t true. After Nick defeated Bill Clinton, he would show Gatbsy who’s boss. Nick would be the dommiest bottom his whore-of-a boyfriend had ever topped for.
“Mr. President, I’m ready to fuck,” Nick said, in his authoritative dom voice.
“¡Crees que puedes derrotarme! La NSA ha confirmado que mi polla es dos veces el tamaño de la siguiente americana más grande. ¿Dwayne Johnson? Tengo doce pulgadas sobre él. Pero me haría reír para ver la mirada en su cara como le causa un dolor más fuerte que su orgasmo más fuerte de la próstata.”
Nick ripped his booty shorts from his ass with the strength of an ox, leaving the tattered remnants on the floor.
“You can clean up with those when you finish, William.”
It was a powerful move on Nick’s part, calling the ex-president by his full first name like that. But Nick was a powerful bottom. His muscular thighs bulged, veins clearly visible. He spread his legs and pulled them back, thighs against his chest, signaling to Bill that he was ready for cock.
Bill unzipped his cargo pants to reveal his weapon. The tip slid in with ease, no lube required. Nick could see the sweat on Bill’s face. Bill pushed further, hoping the girthy stick would be too much for the rowdy young power bottom, but Nick took it with ease. Bill was now balls deep in Nick Carraway, the sluttiest twink in West Egg. His jaw dropped. Nick pushed Bill’s shoulders against the bed and began to ride him. Nick bounced for hours until Bill finally came in defeat.
“Nick Carraway, el torso más mato de West Egg, me has derrotado. Nunca pensé que vería el día en que un fondo podría tomarme, pero lo hizo. Usted es el fondo más poderoso de Estados Unidos. Lo has hecho Nick. Me ha estepado. Ahora tomaré a Alex Jones suplicentes de la ampliación y me reuniré con usted de nuevo en tres meses de tiempo en un intento de recuperar mi gloria.”
Gatsby ran to give Nick a hug.
“Baby you light up my world like nobody else!” Gatsby shouted with glee.
Nick didn’t know it then, but that day was the end of an era. The era of top-supremacy. For the next hundred millenia, bottoms would reign supreme as the dominant partner in the bedroom. As news spread throughout the country, hundreds of tops went into hiding, fearing their now liberated bottom boyfriends. On Grindr, bottoms began sending unsolicited ass pics and there was nothing tops could do about it. Take that.
The End