unknown author
starring Sarah Palin

None of this would have happened if I didn't have a weakness for betting on my Jets and blindly laying the points each time they were a favorite. You'd think after all these years I would have learned to bet with my head and not my heart, but each Fall it seems like I slip face first into the same enticing trap. I'm not going to tell you just how much I was in hoke for, I'll just say that there were a few people out there that would have been content turning my knee caps into those crumbs you see at the bottom of a potato chip bag.

I did have a good job in a large metropolitan city, one where I made enough money that it perpetually kept me in trouble. The more the accelerant, the bigger the fire....

I was in upper management of a worldwide hotel and resort chain, and in the position I worked I was privy to most of the comings and goings at the hotel, not to mention having full access to every nook and cranny of the place. What's the old saying about giving someone too much rope?

We got a memo one morning last Summer that one of the presidential candidates might be staying at our hotel while they were in town giving a speech. Needless to say the trouble of going through the security protocols and getting enough rooms secured for the entourage wasn't a walk in the park, but it was the marquee type event the board members loved. About 72 hours before the mystery guest was supposed to arrive, we found out that it was going to be Sarah Palin making one of her first solo visits on her campaign to become McCain's Vice-President.

While I'm in 'coming clean' mode, let me also say this situation wasn't exactly the first time I'd done something of a similar nature, just not with someone quite so famous.

A long time acquaintance of mine is a private investigator. He's done me several favors over the years, and on more than one occasion, really opened my technologically inept eyes to some of the neat gadgets and gizmos people can use when doing surveillance. That's not to say the benefits of our friendship haven't been reciprocal. My P.I. friend has always had somewhat of a problem over the years staying faithful to his Wife. With me being a longtime worker in the hospitality game, I've always been there to fix him up with a nice room free of charge, so he can discreetly impress the lady he was seeing at the time.

About two years ago, the PI friend I spoke of showed me the neatest little contraption, a small lighted vanity mirror that fit perfectly on a bathroom sink. The mirror also happened to have a small camera built inside.

Against my better judgment, and every bit of morals I'd been raised with, I placed that mirror in the room of a couple of girls from a college volleyball team staying in town for a game. It was probably the worst thing that could have happened because the sick endeavor went off without a hitch.

The resulting footage of the three girls sharing the room that night was quite vivid. After successfully trying this technique several more times, the biggest concern I started to have was that one of the women I was secretly filming might steal the mirror because of how cute it was. While that device did provide hours of perverted glee, like any adrenaline junkie I eventually found myself pushing the envelope for an even higher high.

Even easier than filming the random attractive and unaware woman in her room, capturing some of the goings on between the newlyweds in the Honeymoon Suite was like stealing candy from a baby. Granted, most couples these days aren't sharing each other for the very first time on their wedding night, but there were still a definite passion and intensity to their efforts once they were alone, behind closed doors. An intimacy they certainly wouldn't have felt comfortable sharing if they knew they were being watched.

Instead of the vanity mirror trick, in the Honeymoon Suite I used a tiny remote camera mounted in the chandelier light fixture hanging above the bed. When the light was on, it was impossible to discern because of the brightness surrounding it and when the lights were off, it didn't give the slightest hint of its presence.

If I'd just been content pulling off those self gratifying voyeuristic capers, I could have lived happily ever after. Instead, the lure of trying such a thing on a celebrity became an overriding and all consuming challenge. The overwhelming urge to set up something in Palin's room before her arrival was too much to fight.

Considering the attention to detail needed, and chaos created, when a guest of that importance made a visit, I was pretty much run ragged during the Governor's entire stay. All I could hope for was that the camera that I aimed was pointed for maximum effect inside her room.

To my utter shock, my efforts paid off better than I could have ever imagined. I'm not gonna go into detail about the ingenious camera set-up I used in then Governor Palin's room, but it was amusing, if I do say so myself, watching her security detail make a thorough sweep through the suite and not find a damn thing. The subsequent footage was, on a multitude of levels, amazing.

The initial cavalcade of handlers, speech writers, aides and image consultants was seemingly never ending. Palin's entourage filled up the largest suite in the hotel to the point where it simply looked like a cramped subway car at times. It didn't take David Gergan to see if a candidate needed that much help putting a positive face forward, that same face would likely melt under the harsh glow of the world spotlight.

Palin, and her hive of worker bees, left the room for dinner and a scheduled speech in town that was set for 6 pm. Fast forwarding the tape through all that dead time once I was finally able to sit down in private and watch, the Governor returned to the room a little after 10 that night, this time with a much smaller cast of characters. Thankfully she'd made the trip without her Husband or her dozen or so kids, so at some point I was confident everyone else would leave and I'd get her on film, all by herself.

The cadre of advisors sat with a visibly tired and somewhat aloof Palin until just before Midnight when they all called it a day. I guess like any other normal wife and mother who was stuck several time zones away on a business trip, Palin pulled out her cell phone and appeared to call home for 15 minutes or so. After hanging up, she flipped open her laptop for a few minutes and did a few things online before exhaustedly dragging herself off to the bathroom.

For just a few seconds as I sat there and watched the content I'd taped the day before, the guilt that welled inside of me almost caused my finger to click the stop icon on the monitor. Even though she was one of the most famous women in the world now, she was still just an average and unsuspecting woman going about her nightly routine, oblivious to the fact her every move in that room was being recorded. I was about to press my finger down on the stop button when the decayed and diseased marrow of my psyche screamed 'NO...NOT YET'.

That internal battle was still raging when Palin stepped out of the bathroom, with nothing but a towel wrapped around her freshly showered body. A large puff of steam billowed out behind the Governor as she made her way across the room to the large suitcase sitting on her bed.

Leaning forward anxiously in my seat as I watched the grainy pixels on the screen, I literally felt my entire body grow numb as my chin dropped down like a rock against my chest.

There wasn't a drum roll, or even a hint of fanfare for what was to come. Sarah Palin simply dropped the moist towel from her body as she stood beside the bed, her rear end exposed towards the camera as she dug through her luggage for a night shirt to wear.

The same woman who countless computer geeks were online at that very minute trying to morph her face over another woman's naked body was standing there on my screen in all her stark and vivid glory right in front of me. Hefner and Flynt had even ponied up seven figure offers for Palin to bear all, and yet here I was witnessing it for free. Other than the Governor's Husband and maybe her doctor, I was probably the only man to have seen her naked in a long time.

Not that the image was that detailed, but it was clear enough to tell exactly who it was. Once she'd fished a tee-shirt from her bags, Palin turned back towards the center of the room and for a few seconds I could see the melon-shaped swells of her breasts hanging heavily from her chest. The paleness of both orbs bounced side to side as Palin walked by the camera shot and for the briefest of moments, you could se the pelt of dark brown hair that covered her crotch. Hitting rewind and re-playing those images over and over several times, it dawned on me that someone from the wilds of Alaska probably didn't have that much use for a Brazilian Wax job.

Eventually allowing the tape to play on, I watched as Sarah slipped into the oversized teeshirt then disappeared under the covers. An instant later she flipped the reading lamp beside the bed off, and considering how tired she seemed from the rigor the campaign trail had, I assumed she'd be asleep within a minute or two. Keeping the tape running as I got up to get myself something cold to drink, I nearly choked on an ice cube when I walked back, seeing she'd switched the light back on.

Its an eerie, and admittedly unsettling feeling spying on someone's every move without their knowledge, one that could give a guy a "God complex" if he wasn't adequately grounded. Despite all that, once again I couldn't bring myself to switch the video off as Palin propped herself up in bed and turned on the TV.

It was definitely strange looking down at her without her make-up or glasses, not to mention the pony-tail she'd pulled her hair back into as she flipped through the channels. Taking into account what time it was, I assumed Palin wasn't tuning into any of the late night talk shows considering the tenor the campaign was taking at that stage.

For just a second I thought how funny it would have been if the Vice Presidential candidate had somehow ordered the adult PPV option on the hotel's cable service, but after skimming through the dial several times, Palin switched the tv off and read through a packet of papers she's left on the nightstand.

Within a few minutes she'd put the packet back in its place and rolled her head side to side several times against the headboard, looking somewhat like a bored cat contemplating its next move. Sliding back down beneath the covers, Palin laid there for quite awhile without reaching up to turn out the light.

Between the scant amount of light and Palin's position on the bed, it took a few seconds to finally figure out what was happening under the sheets. Seeing a slight, tent-shaped bulge grow in the center of the bed, it was clear from the way that protrusion seemed to bounce and rotate in jerky circles that she was masturbating. Nearly missing the chair when I tried to re-take my seat in front of the computer monitor, I stared on in stone silence as Sarah Palin rubbed herself between her legs.

"She didn't put her panties on before crawling into bed..just her tee-shirt," a voice in my head reminded.

Leaning forward in my seat to get a better look at the gradually changing expression on the married mother of five's face, I watched as her lips parted into a perfect oval as she increased the speed of her fingers beneath the sheets. Even though there was no sound from the recording, I could literally imagine the sweet slick echo of Palin's fingers slicing through the wetness of her crotch as the bedsprings began to rhythmically squeak.

My eyes focused, flipping between the bulge of Palin hand under the sheets and her steadily scrunching face, I pretty much devolved into a hypnotic state watching it all unfold. It was clear from the determined efficiency she put into her efforts, Palin knew exactly how to make herself feel good. Watching the way her knees seized up a little higher into the air with each passing second, it wasn't long until the presumably high thread-count sheet covering her body morphed into a crude magic carpet dancing in waves above her.

Narrowing my gaze the best I could, I leered on as an spine tingling orgasm eventually tore through Sarah Palin's body. Watching her head cork-screw side to side on the fluffed pillows, it appeared as if her knees had become wings, and for just a brief instant, I swore she was going to take flight when she came.

Absorbed completely by what I was witnessing, I'm enough of a man to admit I was touching myself as well watching the visceral display on the pixels in front of me.

Assuming Palin was done when she collapsed into the fetal position beneath the now strewn sheets, I leaned back and tried collecting my breath until she reached up and grabbed the bottle of spring water on the nightstand.

"Well..that was a Hell of a show," I thought to myself, thinking her next step was cutting off the light after she'd replenished her fluids.

Once again, I couldn't have been more wrong.

An insane, almost Jack Nicholsonesque voice cackled over and over in my head," You just saw Sarah Palin masturbate and you got it on tape!"

On some level I knew I was witnessing something that would be worth a lot of money in the right hands, but for the time being all I could do was sit there in breathless silence watching as she pulled the sheet down to her knees to allow her overheated crotch to cool off. Even though the quality of the recording wasn't perfect, you could still see the puffy, bubblegum pink lips of Palin's vagina glisten in the lamp light as she reached down with her left hand and rubbed her fingers through the dense patch of pubic hair.

My heart fluttered in my throat a few seconds later when she reached up with both hands and pulled her tee-shirt up over her chest, allowing each of her tits to spill free. Caressing both her palms around her more than ample bosom, I watched as the Governor tweaked and twisted at her visibly plump nipples like they were dials on an old radio as she allowed herself time to recover from her orgasm.

It was difficult to see Palin's face and get any sort of read on her mental state. Watching her chest rise and fall as she slowly regained her breath, I assumed she was just settling herself down before eventually switching off the light and going to sleep. When she rolled both her hands down the length of her belly and clamped them down over her still steaming crotch however, I sensed she wasn't done.

"Bitch is insatiable," I muttered under my breath, staring a hole in the glowing monitor in front of me.

It wasn't long before Palin's breasts began to swing out to each side of her arms as she leaned forward slightly and dipped her fingers into her still spasming pussy. Watching the sweaty woman play with herself for another minute or so, I literally jumped backwards in my seat when Palin lurched up unexpectedly from the bed. Like a zombie that had just risen from its tomb, the half naked Governor staggered across the room until she'd dug her hands anxiously back inside one of her personal luggage cases.

"What is she digging for?" I wondered, thinking I might have a "Marion Barry" situation on my hands if I caught Sarah Palin reaching for her stash of coke.

Focusing the best I could as Palin fumbled through her bags, I held my breath when she pulled a smaller bag from the bottom of the larger suitcase. Flexing my fingers together as she reached inside, I exhaled with frustration when she pulled yet another wrapped package from the smaller bag, this one covered with a large piece of fabric or scarf.

"Must really be something if she went through that much trouble to hide it," I thought as Palin turned and carried whatever she'd retrieved back to bed.

When I finally realized what it was, the thing in Sarah Palin's hand would have even caused Mayor Barry to blush.

From the way Palin recklessly threw herself back into bed and quickly parted her knees, I started to get a sense of what was about to happen. When I saw the oblong, cylinder shaped mass in her hands, I knew for sure.

"She smuggled a fucking dildo all the way across the country..through airports and everything....the bellhop probably even brought the thing up to her room," I shook my head and laughed.

Palin wasted absolutely no time shoving the instrument between her legs, instantly causing both her outstretched feet to rise high in the air and start hovering in slow, jerky circles. Seeing the muscles in Palin's arms flex, I watched her head bounce up and down on her pillows as she stabbed the phallus home with both hands.

I could tell from the way Palin was straining to grasp the dildo that it had to be immense. Seeing the way she humped her behind off the bed to help shove the thing deeper, I sensed she was well versed in using it. Her tee-shirt pulled her just enough that I could see her left breast swinging each time she lunged upwards, I sat motionless in my seat watching her pussy expand to ungodly proportions, trying to accommodate the serpent in her hands. I just knew I was on the verge of witnessing the most violent orgasm of my life.

Just before the point of no turning back however, Palin twisted to the side and slowed her savage, self-inflicted thrusts. That's when I realized what she had was no ordinary dildo.

Pulling the business end of the shaft from her pussy and raising it towards her mouth, I sat there in awe as Palin darted her tongue around the wet and glistening, bulbous head of the phallus.

"Sarah Palin is a fucking freak," I mumbled as she ingested her own vaginal fluid from the very device she'd just fucked herself with.

Watching the thing bounce like an oversized sausage against her chest as she nuzzled it deeper into her mouth, that's when I realized the thing had two heads.

"My God," I mouthed as she continued to lap and lather her lips over the freshly used end.

"Why didn't she finish herself off when she had the chance?" I wondered, only to get my answer a few seconds later when she lowered the implement back down to her crotch.

Placing the unused end of the dildo against the puffy bloom of her vaginal fissure, Palin urgently shoved the head of the thing back inside her. Her knees quivering as the dry end of the staff quickly became drenched, I could see the half naked woman corkscrewing the dildo until an entire lower third had disappeared. Then she did something that was as unique as it was inspiring.

Contorting her body to her left until she was essentially resting on her side, Palin then raised her right leg high into the air.

"Awfully flexible for a woman with five kids," I noted as the folds of her stuffed labia filled the screen.

Reaching down with her free hand, Palin took the unoccupied end of the shaft between her fingers and blindly bent it into the shape of a horseshoe. My breathing instantly ceased when I saw what she did next.

Situating the lower half of the dildo just right, Palin's chin ricocheted upwards when she pressed the second head against her anus. Keeping the upper part entrenched inside her pussy, Palin held her right leg in the air as she began to inch the rubbery shaft into her ass. Even though there was no sound, I could see Palin's lips part, just knowing a haunting and guttural moan was belching from her throat as she impaled herself, times two.

Reaching down once again to rub my own crotch as I watched, it wasn't long before both ends of the crescent shaped girth disappeared like magic inside her. Once the dildo was securely buried inside both orifices, Palin somehow spun her body around until she was up on all fours.

"What the Hell is she doing now?" I asked out loud.

If she'd put that much thought and effort into her policies and campaign tactics as she was putting into what she was doing on that hotel bed, Sarah Palin might have very well been the Vice President as we speak.
Kicking the pillows away from the top of the bed, Palin braced her bare feet flush against the headboard. Taking her sweaty and crumpled tee-shirt and pulling it over her head, Palin tossed it aside before balancing herself on her knees and elbows. My eyes fizzing like neon orbs as the Governor seemingly stared straight into the disguised lens of the camera, I could see a wanton tint of psychotic glee in her gaze as she hurled her rear end backwards.

"AAAAAHHHHHHHHH," I was sure she screamed when the folded arch of the dildo collided with the unforgiving headboard, forcing each embedded end deeper into her ass and cunt.

Like a fully loaded train churning up a hill, Palin slowly rocked her hips backwards against the headboard until her jerry-rigged double penetration was causing her spine to twist with each reverse thrust. As much as I wanted to get a good look at the twin fists of the dildo plunging into Palin from behind, the chance to see the expression on her face, along with the way her heavy tits jiggled just above the sheets was a transcendent sight.

Digging her well manicured fingers into the bunched up blanket at the foot of the bed, the spastic woman methodically humped her backside against the sturdy and polished hardwood until the entire bed was shaking like an earthquake had hit the city.

Growing lightheaded from the obscenely glorious image before me, I hit the slow motion button and spent the next couple of seconds visually absorbing the straining tide of joy cresting through the woman's pretty face. Eventually hitting the play button once again, I sat back and watched nature take its lurid course.

It took several minutes, but the pace of Palin's efforts grew from slow and cautious to down right ferocious before my eyes. Her fingernails now digging roughly at the bedding below, Sarah Palin's head bounced up and down as a slick sheen of sweat glistened on her naked back.

Repeatedly grinding her asscheeks against the smoothness of the headboard, it was painfully obvious she'd impaled every millimeter of the dildo she could inside her. Wrapping her left hand tightly around the back of her head as if the voices in her head were screaming at full pitch, Palin snaked her right beneath her torso and fondled her own swinging breasts as she ruthlessly drove herself over the edge.

Maybe it was for the best there was no sound on the tape. God knows someone might have been scarred for life if they'd heard Sarah Palin's screeching accent at that high of a volume, but you could see from the intensity that her veins flared in her neck just how much volcanic strain her body was enduring.

Manically rocking on her knees as if some sort of invisible beast had mounted her, I watched as Palin tore at the sheets with both clenched fists before finally burying her face in the blanket, presumably not to startle the agents that were surely stationed outside the room with her screams of release.

I felt my own heart swoon when Palin eventually collapsed face first on the bed.

"Timber," I mumbled under my breath as she came to rest on her stomach.

Laying there motionless, her extremities pointed out like the four hands of a weathervane, I couldn't help but survey the carnal wreckage. The one thing that will permanently stay with me was how the dildo was still buried deep like a stake inside her beautifully round, snow white ass as she desperately tried catching her breath.

Reaching backwards once she'd mustered the energy, Palin carefully tugged the device from her rectum, her face grimacing in the process before she tossed the greasy and still half bent cylinder in the direction of her overnight bag.

There were nearly 40 minutes of solid gold on that disk I thought I'd have to keep for my own personal viewing pleasure until the day I died. Sadly, that was just another, 'not so fast my friend' assumption.

As I mentioned earlier, I've never handled prosperity very well, especially when it came to my little problem with gambling. The first part of the Fall of '08 had been the best few months of my life. Between making the Palin tape and getting a promotion in part for how well I handled my end of the arrangements for the candidate's visit (How's that for irony), my beloved Jets had also started the season 8-3 with much of the success linked to the addition of Brett Favre coming out of retirement.

I almost cringe in admitting I was up five digits after the first three months of the season. I should have quit while I was ahead, but where's the fun in that. Despite an arm injury that Favre shouldn't have been playing with in the first place, the old gunslinger decided he was gonna keep playing and with each interception and under thrown ball he throw, the profit I'd made continued to dwindle. Each week I thought, "Hey the guy's a Hall of Famer, he has to play better this week," but the worse things got. By the end of Week 17 the five digit profit had become a five digit hole, and I was seriously considering a permanent trip to the coldest reaches of Canada. Before I could purchase a couple of mushing dogs and buy my sled however, my bookie's 'collection guys' made a housecall.

Needless to say they weren't going to be satisfied with the $87 I had in my pocket or my modest collection of baseball cards I'd saved when I was a kid. Never one to collect a lot of gold or jewelry, there wasn't a lot of stuff to my name to put a dent into the debt I owed.

It was then I asked if they'd be interested in some of the secret recordings I'd made of some of the anonymous women I'd taped in the hotel over the past year or so. Other than calling me a 'sick perv', among other things, and saying that type of stuff was a dime a dozen on the internet, they pretty much showed no interest.

Playing that card with no success and knowing hemming and hawing wasn't going to get me very far, I dejectedly played the only Ace I had left. Telling the two thugs I had something else on tape that would perhaps be worth all the money I owed plus interest, I insisted on meeting with someone a little higher up the food chain just to make my pitch. As much as I wanted to keep the tape, and God knows why I didn't think to make a copy, I thought the ability to walk or wipe my own ass for the immediate future was more important than seeing Sarah Palin ram a dildo up her ass anytime I wanted.

Thankfully the person they answered to showed some interest and after a few phone calls, they set up a meeting.

It unnerved me just how quickly they traded the tape in exchange for erasing my gambling debt. Despite the immediate relief I felt for my own safety, it gnawed at me knowing the recording was apparently worth so much more than my admittedly ample losses.

But what was done, was done.

Like I mentioned earlier, that all happened last last year ( '08). For several months I laid awake every night wondering where the tape was, and how many eyes might have viewed it. Like most things though, the pain of the memory gradually started to fade and I'd almost put the tape to the back burner of my mind when the news broke over the Summer that Sarah Palin was stepping down from her job as Alaska's Governor.

Considering the gibberish she repeatedly used in explaining her reasons for quitting, it was apparent she was relinquishing her position for reasons well beyond the ones she attempted to offer. Whether it was for financial or political gain, it was clear to me whoever's hands that hotel recording eventually wound up in had used it as blackmail.

I can go to my grave now safe in the knowledge my perversions in some small way altered the course of American History.

And as Paul Harvey would say......