If walking through the Hall of Presidents or staring at Mount Rushmore has always left you a little hot and bothered, there’s a new erotica series for you (warning: explicit content up ahead).
More specially, if you fantasize about Abraham Lincoln performing cunnilingus or hate-fucking Richard Nixon, Zara Tiff’s Sex with Presidents will fill the presidential sexual void that the Pornhub and YouPorn simply cannot fulfill.
Sex with Presidents is pretty much exactly what it sounds like—a series about a woman on a mission to bang all of the leaders of the free world.
Actually, it’s a tad more complicated than that. The protagonist, Ilene Cumberbatch, is the 30-year-old survivor of a May-December romance. Her deceased husband created a time machine because he knew “what I truly desired was Presidential dick.”
And Cumberbatch finds plenty of it as she travels through time seducing various presidents—and it ain’t for the faint of heart. Even sainted Honest Abe (1861-1865) gets down and dirty:
His warm beard rubbed against my clit and his mole massaged the softest part of my thigh. His oral skills were as good if not better than his oratory. It felt like he was repeating the Gettysburg address against my genitals.
To ground the time-traveling-presidential erotica in a bit of reality, Mr. Cumberbatch left his horny young widow a set of rules to not interfere with history or create any (other) White House love children. Also, no kissing. (I can only assume the Cumberbatches loved Pretty Woman.)
But perhaps the most complicated element of all in the Sex with Presidents series is that Zara Tiff is actually Jake Cannon, a 25-year-old heterosexual man who has decided to take up erotic writing after getting laid off from his job as a production assistant.
“There was this AMA (Ask Me Anything) thing on Reddit where a woman explained this [writing erotica] is a way to make money. She said she eventually made $3,000 a month,” he told The Daily Beast. “I thought, ‘Well, that’s more than I made in my production job, and I’ll be unemployed for a while. I can pump out a lot of these, and I always liked writing.’”
At the time of our interview, Cannon had made a whopping $8.35 with downloads, but he’s hopeful more will come as they’ve only been available for about two weeks.
He charges 99 cents for each of the presidential sex tales, which are about 11 pages in length, and Amazon gives him about a third of that money.
While he’s written some screenplays and comedy for his stand-up, Cannon never considered erotica before this bout of unemployment. He began this foray by penning a couple of other pieces of erotica— including one about the popular podcast Serial and one inspired by millionaire and alleged murderer Robert Durst—before sexing up the White House.
“When I first wrote the first ones [before Sex with Presidents] it was all foreplay and weird humiliation stuff,” Cannon said. “I was afraid to write a sex scene, so I generally wrote about masturbation and humiliation probably because that’s what I was going through after I lost my job.”
The array of self-published erotica in Amazon’s Kindle store proves once again that the Internet never fails to deliver on the most seemingly niche sexual kink. So, how did Cannon choose to go the presidential route?
“I wanted to write something that had never been done, but then I thought, ‘Oh, this is a really interesting idea,’” he said, before adding that in fact, presidential erotica has sort of been done. “There was some [erotica] that involved sex with four presidents, but they were all consecutive. No one had sex with William Howard Taft (1909-1913) but also Richard Nixon,” said Cannon.
The sex scenes are a doozy—but also, surprisingly enough, reasonably historically accurate.
Cumberbatch performs “mouth congress” on Lincoln’s “dick [which] was every bit hard and fitting for his 6’4” frame.” But she doesn’t go down before a few jokes are made about Seward’s folly (then-Secretary of State William Seward’s purchase of Alaska from Russia).
Prior to being party to Cumberbatch’s sexual encounter with Tricky Dick (1969-1974), you need to plow through the nearly seven pages of his 1974 farewell address to the nation—it’s an all-but-certain boner-killer.
Multiple exchanges with Nixon’s press secretary, Ron Ziegler, don’t exactly set the mood either, but you may not be eager to think about sex with Nixon. The coitus itself is pretty repugnant, as one would imagine sex with one of the most despised and arrogant presidents to be.
Cannon describes how Cumberbatch “kept edging—-masturbating until right before I came” to force herself to be turned on enough to have sex with Nixon. “I had about edged myself out. I’d have fucked a fire hydrant if it had been available, and not unlike what I thought it would be to do it with Milhous.”
The sex is shameful and sweaty—as Nixonian as it could get.
“We fought to be on top. We tangled, our parts brushing against each other. And even though he had nuclear capabilities, I wrestled him down. Missionary. I forced it into me, trying to break the thing off. Nixon moaned. I slapped him across the face for America. You humiliate me, I humiliate you. I choked him a little bit as his cock thumbed around me. When you choked Nixon he sounded exactly the same.”
“I could feel his sweat dripping on the my back. Each drop was accompanied by two more. It felt like I was in a misty rainforest. I reached back and grabbed some. I ran it over my tits… I came like a little girl for daddy,” Cumberbatch recounts in a scene that would even make Rose Mary Woods, Nixon’s infamously devoted secretary, recoil in disgust.
However, that actually wasn’t even the most irksome president to read about en flagrante delicto.
The sex scene with James Buchanan (1857-1861) comes upsettingly close to rape. It is believed by many that Buchanan was actually gay and had a relationship with North Carolina senator, William Rufus King. They were often referred to as Miss Nancy and Aunt Fancy.
Staying true to this belief that Buchanan was likely gay, Buchanan refuses Cumberbatch’s initial advances as she aggressively forces herself on him: “As I kissed his neck, a cold drop of liquid ran onto my forehead…. Buchanan was crying. ‘Please, no more, please.’” The text explicitly states a few lines later, “I had almost raped a President of the United States.”
To Cannon’s credit, he doesn’t sexualize this violence. Instead, Cannon conjures a sexual scenario where Buchanan desires Cumberbatch because he believes she is a man, and specifically his rumored lover, King.
The scene is also rewarding for history buffs who negatively remember Buchanan for failing to take a strong stance against slavery and keep the union together.
Cumberbatch dresses as King, in an effort to re-create a sexualized ghost. To complete the cross-dressing get-up, she makes an anti-slavery statement of sorts by choosing a black dildo—“protest in subtle ways, only this subtlety was a huge black cock.”
Cumberbatch proceeds to enter the 15th president from the rear with very few details left to the imagination.
I reached around to grab his stiffy. It was a little sticky from pre-cum which would make a perfect lube. I loved the way it felt in my hand. It relieved it. Like my hand had been searching for it across a desert and it was water. I tickled the head with my thumb. I rubbed the pee-hole and more cum came out.
Some may find this scene disturbing for the peculiar sexual trickery involved. Some may be perturbed at the bringing of a vibrating strap-on into the White House decades before light bulbs would even arrive at the building.
And others may find it irksome simply because they consider the Oval Office sacrosanct and shudder to think of it sullied with sex (not that presidents haven’t already done that themselves).
“It’s kind of anarchist in a way,” Cannon admits. “But that’s not what I’m thinking. I don’t find it offensive. They’re all dead. When I write one about Barack Obama (2009-present), I’ll feel badly. For some reason, I think I’d feel bad about Jimmy Carter. I’m not sure why.”
Yet Cannon remains committed to writing a story for each of the presidents. “I have to,” he said. “I promised it to Amazon in the description. I could go back and change it, [but] I think it’s an achievement to have written an erotic novel about all the presidents.”
So far, 15 have been published on Amazon. Cannon told me he has another five waiting to go up, and he already has ideas for the rest, like a threesome between John F. Kennedy (1961-3), Marilyn Monroe, and Cumberbatch.
It’s important to him that sex scenes are actually enticing.
“I’m thinking if someone is actually reading these, the sex has to be pretty good,” he said. “Taft can’t be too tired to have sex. You don’t want to see that Lincoln can’t get it up. People are having so much bad sex, but if people are downloading it, [it’s like] ‘You brought me to this watering hole. Give me some fucking water.’ Let Lincoln be an amazing lover, as he should be.”
Yes, Cannon is standing by the vow he made on his Amazon author profile—though that profile is for Zara Tiff, a name he said he chose after initially considering “Agatha Christie Cummings” (get it?).
He realized Googling that name would more likely yield hits of the actual author, so he scoured baby name sites for unusual girls’ names and tested them out on Amazon searches—hence, Zara. “Tiff” is an old-fashioned slang term for sex.
There are few similarities between Cannon and “Zara Tiff” (perhaps except that they both attended UC Berkeley). However, before I interviewed Cannon, I never suspected that Sex with Presidents, which is narrated from a female point of view, was not written by a woman.
Cannon said he had a female friend read through early drafts to make sure the voice wasn’t obviously male. “She said, ‘You’ve got to stop saying ‘pussy’ and just say ‘me.’ No woman would say ‘pussy.’ Just try to be more poetic,’” he said.
He also tries to imagine himself in Ilene Cumberbatch’s position—literally.
“Sometimes I move my body to imagine what I would be feeling if that was happening to me, which is hard because I’ve never been a woman having sex. Sometimes, I have to imagine what it would be like having Millard Fillmore’s dick in my mouth,” he said, adding “And then, I catch myself.”
There are few reasons Cannon took on a pseudonym other than the female factor.
“My family doesn’t know,” he said. “It would be weird to tell them. ‘Hey, remember when you sent me that check for $100? Yeah, I did that so I could write erotica fiction for a week about U.S. presidents, some of whom you elected.”
Besides, he himself seems to have, at best, mixed feelings about his potential erotica notoriety.
He roundly dismissed my suggestion that, perhaps, he’s not only seeking fortune but fame with his Sex with Presidents series.
“No! I would not like to be known for this, for god’s sake.”
Sex With Presidents is available to buy here.
Extracts (reprinted with the permission of the author)
I licked the base of his cock all the way up to the tip. Lincoln stood up in his seat. His body loomed over me like a giant beanstalk. He took his hat off. I put it back on.
He was smooth in my mouth, and my tongue could feel his rapid heart beat. Its length tickled my tonsils. Saliva was dripping from my mouth, but lubing him up for whatever was to come.
I grabbed his ass forcing his cock deeper into my mouth. I thrusted his ass against my face again and again. I was choking myself, but it was soaking my panties.
When he was harder than he was before, I removed my underwear, sat him on the couch. I mounted him, inching his cock up into my body. He grabbed my back as we formed a beast with two.
His long, bony fingers dug into my spine as he started to bounce me on his ferocious cock. His strength was unrivaled. He’d bounce me up so high I’d leave him for a minute floating in orbit and then plummet right down back on top of it.
When we entered the bedroom. Nixon began undoing his pajamas still mumbling about Hippies and Vietnam, and then he was silent. He took a sheet of paper from the desk and wrote on it. “This room is tapped, bugged, it’s voice activated. So we need to be quiet.” He signed it as if I wouldn’t know who wrote it.
He stood naked in front of me in all of his moral illness. He held out his arms to his side as if to say, “Well, the best you’ve ever seen, right?”
I dropped my robe. He dropped his rigid jaw. I slid out of the red negligee. For the briefest instance, I thought about giving him head, but I wouldn’t respect myself in the morning, it was going to be straight dick to vagina action.
I gripped the rubber cock and tapped it against Buchanan’s ass. He spread his cheeks wider. His cold flesh tingled against my legs as I assertively inserted myself. I went deeper and deeper into his bowels until my thighs were pressed against his.
I gripped his gelatinous love handles with delight. The vibrator on the dildo rattled against my clit. But it was more about the giving tonight. I was taking control now. Moving in and out, it was my first time with the apparatus, but it wouldn’t be the last.
I felt like there were little hands all over me, giving me pleasure from all angles. I kept humping him. He used his left hand to start playing with my hole. The soft squish of his finger against my ass was perfection.