El Camita: Kaltia's Naughty Night (Aka A Tortured Soul Gets Some Healin' Sex)
By Miss Cam

With surprise pairing, done a la My Inner Life. NC-17, badsmut ahead!

El Camita: It was a hot, hot night, so hot the stars themselves seemed to shimmer with heat. It was the kind of night made for hot summer lovin' and Kaltia wasn't getting any. She pushed her fingers lazily through her silky hair, which was framing her paled face and eyes of misty pink. Her dark lips let out a misted sigh, deep in want and sexual frustration. She wanted sex. She wanted hot manflesh to caress with her alabaster hands, so that she might forget her tragic past and her evil stepmother, who had so cruelly denied her a true woman's right to wear mini-skirts at the age of five.

Kaltia closed her eyes and thought of male muscles flexing in the dying sunlight, like smooth geckoskin. So smooth, like pearls on silk threads.

"Kaltia!"

The harsh voice tore away her dream like an evil step-mother would rip away a poor child's self-esteem. It was Miss Cam, that dratted Scandinavian with the giant tits.

"Yes?" Kaltia intoned, irritation surging threw her body. She wanted to growl like a tiger for having her lovely fantasy interrupted.

"How dare you insult Scandinavia!" Miss Cam growled and stepped into the room with an air of deluded self-importance.

"Huh?" Kaltia replied, but before she could say more, she felt the hands of the Scandinavian amazone grab her by the hair.

"I've had it with you!" Miss Cam declared. "Your tragic past make you irate and insulting. It is time for some healing sex!"

Kaltia thought of protesting, but then she heard the word "sex" and could feel her skin tingle with anticipation. Sex! For her!

How long the Scandinavian Viking lady dragged her, Kaltia did not know, for she was in a daze. But at last she felt herself being tossed and a door slammed shut behind her.

It was dark; as dark as her troubled soul. But then she felt hot breath tingle on her skin and something hard pressed against her buttocks. It could only be...

She gasped as a virgin touched by a penis for the very first time and turned. Hot lips bared down on her, kissing her until her lovejuices dripped and she moaned like a female tiger in need. But suddenly the lips were gone and she moaned, bereft.

"I'm sorry, I thought you were George," a British voice said.

"George?" Kaltia muttered, trying to summon her wits (which was hard, since she had none in the first place).

Just then, the door opened again and in the doorway stood a tall man, grinning like a mad money being spanked. She would know his face anywhere.

George W. Bush.

She turned to see light fall on the face of her kisser and gasped again.

Tony Blair!

"Tony," Bush said, sounding perplexed. "I thought you were... Um... Alone. For our get-together on how to better British-American... um... Affairs."

"So did I," Blair replied.

"Pretend I'm not here?" Kaltia suggested.

"Okay," both men said at once.

Blair looked loving at Bush and a small male tigerlike cry escaped his lips. "I want you so, George. Make love to me until I cum."

Bush need not be asked twice. He leaned forwards and licked Blair's neck with his tigerlike tongue. Blair moaned.

"Oy boys! Don't forget me!" Kaltia cried out, feeling herself grow hot and hot feelings surged threw her body. The two men at once eyed her and Bush pulled her into a tight embrace, leaving Blair to fondle her bum.

"Mmmm, Presidental lips..." Kaltia groaned tigerlike. Presidental hands were fondling her boobies, making her nipples perk and harden like flowerbuds opening. Blair had pushed up her mist-blue mini-skirt, stroking her pussy until she wanted to meow with pleasure. The prime minister seemed pleased with her eagerness, moaning like a male tiger, his erection hard and pulsating. She could feel Bush too now, as she eagerly freed his manhood from its prison of cloth.

"Oh, cum inside me," she moan. Her flower felt lovingful as it anticipated Bush's flaming sword of passion to enter.

In one swift motion he claimed her as his and pure pleasure surged threw her body. And then Blair's hot staff entered her other hole and pure ecstasy surged threw her body.

"I love... American... British.... Relations..." she gasped, feeling a tigerlike orgasm coming. White light blinded her and she gushed her hot lovejuices to the floor.

"Oh... My.... GODS!" she screamed and collapsed against Bush's hairy chest.

And at that moment, her tortures soul was healed, for 'lo, nothing could withstand the healing sex. And she was cured and free and happy and had twenty orgasms more that night and all three lived happily ever after and raised the lovebaby of Bush and Blair in Holy Threesome Forever. The End.

I really can't add anything to that.