Betrayed

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Clinton: “Heh, Monica, looks like you blew it. Putin's gone and married Angelina”.
Her old man's taking him back to England with them.
Monica: “But look kid, if you feel like whoring around with a guy, well, I'm no kid anymore and I'll sure be glad to...”
Shocked, stunned by the news, Monica stood shaking her head in disbelief. Then Clinton's words penetrated her brain. A wild fury seized her. She grabbed Ted by the shirtfront.
Monica:”Whoring around?.... you ... you impertinent little upstart! I was in LOVE with Putin. That's why I let him...”
Clinton:”LOVE? Love hell. He had lots of girls, even while he was going with you, Monica. You were just one of the girls in the line-up.”

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Monica: “Apologize, Clinton! Take that back! You know Putin was in love with me. He told me so. Take that back or I'll break your neck!”
Clinton:”Come on, don't be silly. Let go before I hurt you. It'll be a cold day in hell before I let any girl make me apologize”.
Suddenly something snapped in Monica's mind. This was no longer just Putin's kid brother bearing painful tidings. Clinton was every enemy she had spoken to her disrespectfully, had accused her of ... her strength seemed unlimited. She shoved and twisted until Clinton sprawled to the ground. Immediately she dove upon him and seized his wrists in the most powerful of grips.

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Slowly she pulled his wrists along the rough ground until they were at shoulder level. She pressed her knees against the insides of his elbows, moved up his body until her silken clad thighs were pressing hard against his ears and her silk-pan-tied- crotch rested against his adam's apple. She slapped his face several times each one making clear hand prints on his cheeks.

Monica: “Since you didn't apologize when you had the chance, you'll suffer the consequences!”
Clinton: “Suffer? With a pretty chick on top of me, her skirt up high and her nipple inches from my face, let me suffer like this. Monica then maybe we can go a little further!”

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Monica: “Are you still enjoying yourself, Clinton?”
Clinton: “Watch it Monica. Hey! That really hurts! Come on now ... let up!”
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Breath play: facesitting