Brenda Takes Washington,

By Montrose

I moved to Washington DC in the middle of the impeachment trails, or as they call it here, As the In terns. The soap opera reference was a natural. Any resemblance to mature elected officials actually doing there jobs is purely incidental. If you ask me, the biggest trouble with the US is our puritan ancestry. We are still trying to outgrow that mindset today.

But for a struggling photographer, employment is easy. I wound up taking a job with a tabloid for the fun of capturing the power-boys with their pants down.

It was at work that I met Brenda Jewels. Brenda digs the dirt up and writes it down and I sprinkle images around her articles in much the same way I dream of sprinkling my pud-perls around her chest and neck. She's fleshy and dark-haired, like Monica Lewinski, but if the way her cheeks dance under her tight navy business skirt is any indication, she's in much better shape - firm - solid. Her naturally broad shoulders require no padding in her form-fitting jacket. And I gotta believe that her blouses are custom made to fit around those thick arms and massive breasts, yet hug that sweet Italian belly so close.

And I work hard for her, let me tell you. I'm assigned to cover a lot of stories, but hers always get three times the effort. That's how she always manages to get front page. After a few issues, she noticed. She no longer accepts any other photographer, she demands me.

I remember the first night she told me to stay late to discuss one of her leads. She ordered Chinese into the office and we spread her notes out on a conference room table. She discussed the case and instructed me on the kinds of shots she wanted. The only shots I wanted involved me, her, and a saddle. I didn't even care who was the horse. Although, I knew she would crush me to the ground.

I couldn't concentrate. Every time she slurped up a wad of noodles or leaned over to grab a distant paper I stopped breathing. The heat from her hips burned my face from three feet away. I just wanted to drop to my knees and ram my face up her skirt! If Monica had looked this good it would have been the Commander and Chief who was on his knees. And Ken Starr would have begged to be next.

"Hey,  Shutter-bug." Her voice dropped an octave, catching my attention - drawing me out of my fantasy.

"Huh?" My eyes moved from her ass, up her strong back to her face. I was caught! I flushed even more.

"Why don't you take a picture so you can masturbate on your own time?" She wiggled her butt and stuck it out a bit more.

I just stood there with my mouth open.

"Go ahead and snap it." She commanded. "Do you think I want to stand with my buns stuck out like this forever?"

She was serious! In a flash the image was mine.

"Now can we get some work done?" She asked in her low voice.

"Yes'm." I replied in a crackling voice. I cleared my throat as she turned back to her notes. "But I'm gonna have a hard time coming out of the darkroom with this roll." I was regaining some confidence.

"That's nice," she replied. "At least we know you wont have a hard time coming with your roll IN the darkroom."

Zing! A body and a smart mouth too! I was in love. "Ouch. You know me too well."

She stood straight and stepped up toe-to-toe. In her 4-inch heels she was 5 inches taller than me. Her breasts bobbled back and forth just under my chin. "Are you going to be able to concentrate, or do I need to hold you under a cold shower?" She asked.

"Cold, hot, I don't care... just hold me." I winked up at her.

She chuckled. I chuckled back. She stepped closer and her firm body pushed me back. I grabbed on to keep from falling backwards. My hands were dwarfed by her hard rump.

Suddenly, she grabbed my jaw in a crushing grip and pulled me up on off my feet to see her eye-to-eye. "You may be cute, Shutter-bug, but you haven't earned the right."

I clutched at her hand and forearm in vane. When she was damn good and ready, she dropped my. I fell to one knee before her gasping and massaged my face.

"Can we work now?" She asked in a voice cold as steel.

I nodded my compliance.

She softened. "Good  boy. Just get that blood out of your cock and into your brain for ten minutes." She turned back to her notes. "Oh, and after you finish beating off to that picture, give me all copies and the negative."

"Yes'm." I whispered.

At the next meeting she held out her hand and I gave her an 8 by 10 image of her ass plus the negative.  She sat back and admired it. "Wow! You do nice work! Could my ass be any rounder?"

"It doesn't do you justice." I replied honestly.

"But it’s amazing!" She gasped. “It’s so hot!”

"You are better."

She smiled at me, fanning herself with photo. Then she leaned down and planted her full lips on mine for a brief moment. She put her hand on my shoulder as she pulled away. Were it not for that hand I might have fallen over! Her kiss alone was like hot sex with any other woman.

"Then maybe you should keep trying until you get it right." She said in her low voice.

We have had many more meetings and they always have the same agenda. She orders Chinese and strikes a few seductive poses, sometimes opening an article of clothing - never exposing enough flesh. Then she gives me an assignment. At our next meeting I give her all the images and negatives, for which she kisses or hugs me. I think she gets off on the images of her body as much as I do! She certainly becomes passionate looking at them.

One afternoon, before our meeting, she found me hoisting one of those big water cooler bottles onto the cooler. I'm no wimp - I was doing fine. But I needed to steady it on my hip before placing it in.

"Don't have a heart attack, Shutter-bug. Let me do that for you." I didn't see her coming. She snatched that bottle up in one hand and flipped it in at arm's length! I couldn't have even held the bottle like that, let alone control it!

She bent down and flipped two full bottles up onto her broad shoulders easy as you please. And while wearing spike heels, mind you. "Here put these away behind you."

She dropped the first bottle onto my shoulder, driving me to knees. When I struggled back to my feet she plopped the other bottle into my chest. I sprawled backwards onto a table and the bottle went rolling. But Brenda leaped on top of me and grabbed the bottles before they left the table. She straddled my chest on the table with the bottles back on her shoulders. The weight of her and the water kept me from breathing. She could have killed me just by sitting there.

Instead she slid off over my face and placed the bottles in the rack. For one brief moment her ass was on my face! It smelled as good as I had imagined.

She straightened her skirt and smiled down at me. "We meet in 5 minutes. Bring your camera."

When I arrived she was seated, cross-legged. Her notes cluttered the table.

"You really are strong." I said respectfully.

For the first time, she blushed.

"I mean it!" I continued. "Of course, that wasn't a fair contest. I mean, you've had years of experience toting around tremendous jugs." I nodded at her ample breasts and smiled.

Her eyes got dark. I had stepped over a line.

"So you want a fair contest?"  She snarled.

I answered truthfully, without thinking, "I would die for it."

"Remember you said that." She said as she stood and slipped off her jacket.

I picked up my camera and snapped a picture of her anger as she rolled up the sleeves of her frilly white blouse.

"That's right." She snarled. "Document your own death."

"What?" I asked in a shaky voice. "Are we gonna fight now?"

"No." She replied as she slipped off her shoes. Now she was only an inch taller than me. "I'm just going to crush the smart-ass out of you while you beg for mercy." She flexed her arms and stretched. Her confidence was obvious. She even turned her back.

"And how much am I paying for this?" I retorted.

"That depends. Do you have good insurance?" She replied. I didn't answer - I just took another picture of her thick, powerful back straining her silk blouse to the limit. "Are you ready?" She asked.

"Brenda, baby, I was born r..."

I never got to finish.

She effortlessly stuffed my head under her heavy arm and locked it there. Then she twisted my arms to the limit, holding both of my wrists in just one hand. Already I could do nothing against her! I squirmed, but I could hardly move.

She pulled back hard on my arms and I yelped. She let up a bit.

"That's right, little man. Just let me know if I'm going too fast for you." She purred.

I struggled again for all I was worth - nothing.

"Start putting up a fight or I'm going to get mad." She snarled. "Do you need some motivation?" She let me go, lifted my face, and slapped the living crap out of me with one open hand.

I fell to the floor. My face burned. Gentleman or not, now it was she who had stepped over the line.

With everything I had, I raised up and planted a fist in her gut, then another, and another. On the third punch my wrist gave out and snapped. She laughed with her hands on her hips.

I moaned and crumpled to the floor again holding my arm. The pain shot up to my shoulder.

I felt her fingers dig into my hair and she lifted my head, guiding it up between her thighs, face down. She began to squeeze.

"Now I've got you where I want you!" I yelled defiantly. "Don't even think of begging for mercy! I'm just getting warmed up!"

She laughed again, then tightened her grip. I felt my skull creak! I pushed at her meaty legs with no affect. My heart pounded in my ears.

"Had enough?" I asked. She tightened her grip even more but did not respond.

"If I pass out," I said as spots danced before my eyes. "I will not be held responsible for throwing up on your feet."

"Oh yuck!" She whined and parted her legs. I fell face down, nearly gone.

Nothing happened for a while, so I thought it was over. I used her legs to push myself up to my knees. When I looked up I saw she was just taking a food break, sucking down Chinese. She wiped her mouth then looked down at me struggling to keep my balance in front of her hips.

She grabbed my hair.

"Okay." I gasped. "I give up. You win."

She wasn't listening.

She pulled me to my feet, then pushed me into a chair. I was spent, dizzy, and hurt. She was getting off on how easily she was beating me. She strolled over to me, lifting her skirt up to her hips as she walked.

Again she was taking my breath away - just by letting me look at her.  She grabbed my camera and snapped a shot of her own magnificent hips - nothing but cotton panties between the lens and heaven.

"White cotton?" I slurred. "I would have guessed black lace."

"You like them?"

"God yes! Anything on you is fantasic." I replied.

She gritted her teeth. "Then get a real close look!" She snarled.

Then she stepped over the chair, bent my head back, and planted her muff and rump all over my face and shoulders. Her amazing legs clutched my head once more. She dropped her skirt down, obliterating my view.

"Tommy!" She said in a high, tense voice. "What are you still doing here?"

Tommy was our mailroom attendant. I must have looked to him like she was standing behind a chair - nothing more. He wouldn't have been able to see me behind her ass from the door.

"Just leaving, Ms. Jewels. You're the last one here. Would you mind locking up?"

"No trouble, Tommy." She replied.

I stuck my tongue out and up her ass crack.

"OH!"

"Yes, Ms. Jewels?"

I licked again, digging deeper.  And kept going.

"OH! YOU!... hmmm... You have a nice... oh... NIGHT... Tom... oh... Tommy."

"Sure thing, Ms. Jewels.  Are you feeling all right? You look a little... flushed."

Her clam began to drip through her panties already and onto my nose.

"Nothing I can't take CARE... care of, Tommy. GoodBYE." She stammered with every stroke of my tongue.

"Yeah... sure, Ms. Jewels. Good night." And I heard him leave. I began to sing up her butt.

Heaven... I'm in heaven

And my tongues so wet that I can hardly speak!

                                As my nose is making your honey pot leak,

As I lay here with my mouth beneath your cheeks!

She laughed and let up on her grip. She reached down and with one mighty tug, ripped her panties away and into shreds. Then she tenderly offered her muff to my mouth.

And there she kept me for hours, rocking my head under her hips. Sometimes I ate her to climax. Sometimes she took control and got off on my face. I ran my hands all over her massive cheeks and tummy feeling the muscles work. When I stretched my arms all the way I got to support her massive, wobbling boobs as she humped my head.

Eventually, dripping with sweat, she slid down my chest and landed her pie in my lap. She admired the snail trail she left before leaning onto it and crushing me into the chair. My boner slid between her cheeks, still captive in my pants.

"How many times have you beaten off looking at pictures of me?" She asked

"Me? uhm..."

"Five times?" She asked.

"It was five times the night after I took that one butt shot." I admitted.

She smiled and bounced her cheeks on my iron-hard rod. I could hardly breath, but I was loving it.  "Horny bastard, aren't you?"

"Well..."

"You want me even though you know I can beat you up." She said. "You've got more balls than most men."

"Thanks for noticing." I replied grinding my solid log up at her.

She smiled and pressed down on me, but didn't make a move to help me get off. "How many times do you think you'll beat off when you get home tonight?"

"What?"

"You didn't think I was going to let you get off on the real thing, did you?" She asked in a mock innocent voice. “Not just yet…”

"But..."

"No butts." She commanded as she stood. "At least not mine."

I inhaled, but did not stand. It felt like I was a part of the chair.

"You be a good boy and keep bringing me pictures and we'll see what develops." She looked down at my lap. "Excellent lap snake, by the way." Her eyes sparkled.

We worked, and then she let me go home to beat off.

The next morning she handed me my coffee as I walked in. She looked fresh as a daisy. "So you made it in!" She chirped.

"Sure." I replied. "A few broken ribs doesn't deserve a sick day."

"Oh I took it easy on you." She smirked.

I slugged my coffee and sized her up over the cup. I recognized the signs. She wanted more. Her sexual energy was turned up and I was responsible. I was at once delighted and terrified.

"Do you have some grubby cloths?" She asked.

"In my locker." The question caught me totally off guard.

"Good. We're staking out the Speaker's apartment tonight. I have an unreliable tip that he's paying a bimbo to spank him and I want proof." She patted my belly and walked past, making sure her breast pushed my shoulder out of the way.

This was big! The Speaker of the house with his pants down sure would make Monica-gate look silly. For a second it even took my mind off of planking Brenda.

By midnight we had been camped in his bushes for an hour and nothing happened besides Brenda using me to warm her hands and her body to warm me. She crouched over me, pressing me to the ground as she looked through her binoculars at the Speaker's window. My stiffy dug a trench in the dark earth.

When the limo drove up a guard from the house came out and opened the door. He was a hulking brute. Out of the car stepped a leggy blonde dressed in a school teacher outfit. She carried a riding crop. The guard escorted her toward the door and the limo drove off.

“Now!” Yelled Brenda and she leaped off of me and charged the guard.

He had plenty of time to prepare for her; he saw her coming from 3 yards away. But still she bold him over and crushed his head into the drive way. She stood over him.

He got to his knees between her legs. She yanked his head up and tucked it under her ass, then she rode it back into the pavement. She got up again. This time He lay still.

While this happened the bimbo was my job. She was watching Brenda take apart her protector, so I snuck up from behind and put her into a full nelson. It was like grabbing a bull by the horns!

First, she stomped my foot with her spikes. When I let go she cracked my head with her elbow. She was on top of me, beating me with the crop when Brenda came to my rescue by lifting the hooker off of me. She grabbed the crop away, then threw the girl several yards toward the street. The girl limped away into the night.

Now Brenda snatched the guard’s keys pulled his head from the ground. “What room is he in?” She asked. He didn’t speak, but he was awake. She smacked his face with the crop. Before she could ask again he answered.

“The den… Front room…” And he passed out, probably from the weight of Brenda on his ribs.

She let us into the house and burst into the front room. I stayed out of sight.

“Where’s my usual girl?” Asked the speaker.

“She couldn’t make it, so I’m here to beat some sense into you.”

“And I’ve been very bad!” Said the gleeful speaker.

But he wasn’t anticipating the beating Brenda handed out. She didn’t maim him, but she just about broke that crop over his ass a few times. After a while he was crying so hard I could walk right in and take pictures without him seeing me through his tears. Brenda posed him a few times kissing her ass, and licking her feet.

After an hour she grabbed the money he offered and we left. The next week he was exposed on the front page.

She won an award for that article. And I finally became worthy.