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Voulez-vous Coucher Avec Trump, Justin?

Justin Trudeau looks longingly into the mirror of his hotel bathroom. He picks a grey hair out of his head and notices the bags under his eyes in a rare moment of peace and reflection the Canadian Prime Minister used to relish before his life changed forever. He used to be Canada’s bad boy, but now he’s just another bureaucrat. His hair greying, rock hard abs softening.

An ache of loneliness sinks in Justin’s chest, if only he could have a connection with another person, just the physical touch and smile from a friend. Here he is in a foreign land for yet another bureaucratic meeting between world leaders. Ugh. Justin would kill to be back home in his cabin, sipping maply syrup and munching on poutine.

Suddenly there’s a knock on the door. It’s Donald Trump and Justin is very, very mad at him for saying stuff and the tariffs. Though upset with his fellow North American leader, Justin has always had a thing for bad boys, and Donald Trump is the baddest boy of them all.

“Mr. Prime Minister,” Donald shouted as he barged into Justin’s room. “I’m here to discuss our relationship.” Our relationship? Thought Justin with a feeling of glee. He hadn’t had a successful relationship in months, could this be the companionship he had been searching for?

Looking to the floor to gather his thoughts Justin tried to scold the US President for his sudden entrance, “Mr. Trump the way you’ve been acting, the things you’ve been saying,” Justin muttered before his eyes caught gaze of Donald’s thick American dick in his Brooks Brothers Premium Relaxed Fit Trouser™. “They’re so naughty.”

The US President scoffed at the thought of criticism from a dirty Canadian. “You take that back you moose-riding Canuck,” Donald said with conviction in his voice. “You can’t just say that to me. I’m the motherfucking President, and you will treat me as such.”

As the p-word fell from his lips Justin could see the outline of Donald’s all-American cock fill with blood. The President’s rage excited the Prime Minister, and with his hotel room all to himself he decided to finally go for it.

“Oh yeah, Mr. President?” Justin questioned while reaching for Donald’s dick. “Make me.”

His hand tightened around the leader of the free world’s willy, and with his grip came thoughts of the slack snake he was gipping. This is the dick of Donald Trump, he thought. The meat cannon that built Trump Tower, the presidential prick that had not only fired Lil Jon and Gary Busey, but Dennis Rodman too. This dick was once home to Eric Trump. He thought.

As the thought of Eric crossed his mind, the Canadian leader couldn’t hold back any longer. He wanted it, and he wanted it now.

Taken off-guard, Donald gasped with surprise.

“When I told Canada to suck my cock this isn’t exactly what I meant,” he said embarrassed. “But it’s exactly what I wanted.” Donald said while trying to hold in a moan, his hands gripping hard at the dresser he had been leaning on.

With one swift zip the Canadian Prime Minister unleashed Donald’s meat hammer and basked in all its glory. As Justin and Donald’s rock hard shlong stared at each other eye-to-eye, Mr. Trudeau couldn’t help but think that this was the companionship he had been longing for. With each stroke and lick the leader of Canada felt more and more complete.

Justin quickly stood up, untucked his dress shirt, and pulled his dress pants to the floor. Once bent over the bed, the Prime Minister spread his legs to reveal his freshly waxed asshole. He had used his grandmother’s extra sticky syrup recipe to clear his hole of all hair in anticipation for the summit.

“Fuck me, Mr. President. Fuck me like you’ve fucked your country.”

Donald complied, immediately stripping off his collared shirt to reveal his buff chest and sweat soaked upper body. Donald inserted Cock Force One into Justin’s welcoming ass and went to pound town. With each pump Justin’s eyes rolled back and Donald came closer and closer to finishing the job.

Finally, with one strong pump, Donald finally shot his thick load all over Justin’s back while screaming, “MAGA!”

Both panting frantically while laying back in Justin’s king sized bed, the two cuddled up for a minute to catch their breath while splitting a cigarette. Justin turned to Donald with loving eyes, “Can I do you now?” he asked while running his hand through Donald’s beautiful, golden hair.

Donald shot up in disgust while getting dressed. The President buckled his belt and looked back at the quivering Canadian Prime Minister and flicked the lit cigarette to the ground, “I do the fucking around here,” he said. “And I think It’s time I get back to fucking my people.”

The door slammed shut as Donald left the room and the rush of wind blew through Justin’s already disheveled hair. Justin sat alone crying at the thought of his sexual endeavors. Why do I always fall for assholes? He thought. His mind raced as he lit another Hookie Poke Saskatchewan Cigarette. Never again.

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