Another pang of regret hit the President. And he leaned back on the Resolute Desk, arms folded. "What's wrong with you Tyler, that's your fucking kid....." Blakemore whispered to himself. He cursed his libido. It had been like a curse, in fact, an affliction that hounded him since his early teens. A need to objectify and just...fuck the shit out of any woman he found attractive. His weakness was curves, an angel face and a nice ass. Hence his wife. And apparently now his daughter. The President. Momma showed him how to line his lips first.Carefully tracking around the edge. Then handed him a tube of realwoman's lipstick. Her turned the bottom, having seen women to it on TVand movies, and watched the red stick rise out. With his hands shaking abit he pressed it to his lips and coated them. Like a woman would.When he was done, that was when Marc found himself looking at the mirrorfull on. Up till now he had been concentrating on what ever area theywere working on. Not looking at. More

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