Mike Pence Only Has Sex In The Missionary Position

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Foreword:  I write erotic fan fiction dedicated to humanizing the lives of conservative, constitution-defending heroes. SNL, The Daily Show, AOL News, and other liberal outlets attempt to brainwash the public into perceiving Republican icons as dim-witted and boring, mundanely going through life cutting taxes for the rich and stripping away healthcare from the poor. But there’s more to them than that. My erotic fan fiction delves into the more personal aspects of our favorite Republicans. Let’s take a closer look at our charming Vice President’s love life.

 

It was the 19th of October, the third Thursday of the month. For Karen and Mike, the third Thursday of every month is always the night they engage in sexual intercourse. Sure, they sometimes make love spontaneously, perhaps after viewing an emotionally touching, family oriented Hallmark Christmas movie, but their planned sex on each month’s third Thursday leaves no room for confusion or wonder. On these days, both know they’re gonna get freaky.

Mike’s Oct. 19th schedule was filled with fighting LGBTQ rights, an activity many regard as incredibly exhausting, so Karen worked tirelessly all day to prepare their home for the special occasion.

The vase of week-old roses was replaced by a multi-colored, vibrant bouquet of Calla Lily’s, flowers known to represent purity and innocence. Karen inserted the turkey meatloaf into the preheated oven, an entrée Mike adamantly considers an aphrodisiac. After setting the dinner table, she poured two six oz glasses of white wine into her dusty, seldomly used glasses.

While the meatloaf simmered in the scorching hot oven Karen attended to her pristine hygiene, using two recently purchased bottles of Pantene hair spray to ensure that her prestigious bob possessed the optimal amount of volume that her husband finds aesthetically pleasing, without coming off as promiscuous, of course. She then swarmed her closet in search of the perfect outfit, eventually landing on her Thai silk daffodil blouse (Mike’s second favorite of her floral shirt collection).

Then Vice President Pence arrived, announcing, “Honey I’m home!” which is a phrase he always finds incredibly humorous, imagining that he’s partaking in a 1960s sitcom. He missed the way things were back then.

Immediately a wide grin found its way onto his face, as the appetizing aroma of hairspray and meatloaf greeted his modestly sized nose. The two embraced with an affectionate side-hug while maintaining eye-contact, restraining themselves for the erotic, yet chaste, fornication the rest of the night had in store. While making eye contact, Karen noticed an unusual swelling of Mike’s crystal blue eyes, motivating her to ask him if he was okay.

“Ah, I’m fine,” Mike said, nodding assuringly. “Just the allergies in the air, that’s all.”

Mary didn’t question him any further, aware that Mike had not wept since their honeymoon, claiming that only women and “the gays” cry.

Dinner was very successful, as the two honorable Christ followers chowed down the medium rare turkey meatloaf. They were more physical than usual over the course of the meal, gently touching the tips of their sketchers under the table and occasionally patting each other on the shoulders following a witty pun. Their good-natured back-and-forth banter was very enjoyable to them. Finally they reached the meal’s conclusion, as Mike gestured towards the bedroom with an uncomfortable wink, to which Karen acknowledged with an attempted seductive lip bite, coincidentally removing the remaining residue of barbecue sauce from the meal. The two scurried off in a giddy manner, giggling to themselves about how they rebelliously chose to not wash the dishes before their “fun time.”

The Pences abided by their traditional bedroom conduct that evening. Karen and Mike stood on opposite sides of the room, each observing the other carefully undressing. Mike struggled to unbutton his shirt due to excitement and general clumsiness, but Karen waited patiently for him to finish. Then they embraced with a fully-frontal hug in the middle of the room, prayed the Lord’s prayer, and the sexual intercourse commenced.

Mike always situated himself on top of his wife the third Thursday of every month, sticking to the typical missionary position. One time when they were newly weds they kissed with tongue, however, that was following an entire bottle of champagne. They immediately regretted it the next morning. During breakfast they ranted about how vile that type of kissing was, fiercely condemning the French for having the gaul to invent such a thing.

While making love Mike would constantly ask Karen, “Is that good?” to which she’d always reply, “I enjoy this, yes.” But this time she was lying; Karen didn’t enjoy it, she was bored. She wanted to be adventurous and try something new, so she did.

Karen rapidly turned over, so quickly that Mike had to blink twice to make sure it was real. She then positioned herself on all fours, with her derriere invitingly protruding out towards her husband. Noticing that Mike was utterly disoriented from this sudden change of events, she backed into him and softly said, “Let’s try what the millennials are now calling ‘doggy style.’”

But to Karen’s chagrin her husband terrifyingly scrammed away from her, leaping off their Tempur-Pedic, Queen-sized bed and crawling over to the corner of the room, as tears flooded from his eyes onto their newly refurbished mahogany floor. The recollections of his daily activities engulfed his fragile mind once again.

That morning he met with democratic senator Elizabeth Warren, who insisted that he actually learn about the LGBTQ community before attempting to maliciously condemn them. Vice President Pence had been berated for his homophobic ideologies before, yet nobody had penetrated his psyche the way Warren had that morning. Naturally, the research began.

Pence’s google history ranged from various questions relating to the LGBTQ community, such as how do gay people eat, what species of dogs lesbians buy, who is Ellen Degeneres, and so on. The final question he typed in was, “How do gay people have sex?” to which he found millions of results, yet decided to click on a video possessing a title that mirrored exactly what he searched.

‘What does a pizza delivery have to do with gay sex?’ he questioned to himself, completely unprepared for the following plot of the film. As the two spray-tanned, muscular men began an intense love making session, Mike couldn’t believe what he was watching. Horror infiltrated his feeble psyche, but he was unable to remove his glare from the screen of his MacBook Air. Amidst the apprehension occupying his mind, Mike’s veins began flowing with unmitigated arousal and thrill. When he was finally able to forcefully shut his laptop, he slowly glanced down towards his trousers, which were ineffectively hiding his blatantly obvious boner. His entire world had been flipped upside down.

Mike remained in the discrete corner of the bedroom, lying stagnantly on the frigid wooden floor, incapable of removing himself from the fetal position. Karen, completely caught off-guard by this abrupt shift in behavior, tended to her visibly distraught husband.

“Was it something I did?” she inquired.

“No no, not that,” Mike sobbingly uttered, “Just a real rough day at work. I’ve been having homosexual issues lately.”

“You’ve been having what?”

“I mean…I have been having issues with the homosexuals, lately.”

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