Mistresses Incorporated Pt. 03

"President?" I asked.

Cheryl shook her head. "Too much scrutiny."

"True."

Scrutiny would be even more of a problem when she told us at dinner, which she arrived at just in time, and as usual Carla created a scrumptious down to earth meal of pot roast, "My husband wants a divorce. He's at least waiting to announce it after the election."

"Decent of him," I said wondering why the asshole would wait since her bombshell would end up effecting her husband's father's company. Not directly, but the Mistresses figured he was in on it at some level. A wink from Cheryl made me figure some pressure had been put on him to have his son wait. "You think your father-in-law put him up to it?"

"You know about that?"

Oops.

"We know about a lot of things," Cheryl explained. "Unfortunately not quite enough to implicate your father-in-law, although we're pretty sure he's involved."

"I know I'm being selfish," Bridgette admitted, "but I'm glad he wasn't implicated. It would mean being implicated just being married to his son."

"I know, and that kept us from really pursuing it."

Bridgette nodded. "Of course you know I'm happy to get rid of the asshole. But it's problematic to say the least. I'm really worried about him getting the kids."

"Don't be," Cheryl responded.

"But raking him over the coals for his cheating can't help looking bad for me for being supposedly blind to it. How can I watch over my constituency when I can't even watch over my husband? Worse maybe if people know the truth, that I was aware of his philandering and didn't give a shit, preferring his chippies to have at it rather than me."

"It won't come to that. Trust us, just as we trusted you with presenting the report."

"How do your kids feel?" I asked.

"Joe!" Cheryl scolded.

"It's fine, Cheryl. They don't know yet, but I'd say my husband has managed to convince our girl that he's the greatest thing since sliced bread while my boy seems to sense what kind of cad and hypocrite his father is, although my job makes me less than immune from hypocrisy, but he even understands that. Despite his age, he sometimes feels like my only real friend. Except for their different opinions of their parents, the two get along pretty well. I don't want them broken up."

"I imagine if you tried convincing your daughter what an asshole her father is...," I started.

"I doubt that would go well."

"No. But maybe your son could."

"Maybe," she smiled. "I'll talk to him."

At the end of dinner, ready to go somewhere private, I finally asked, "How long can you stay?"

"All night if that's okay. Hubby gave me the news and fled to the city to be with his chippy. My mom's watching the kids."

"Fine by me, if you don't mind being with a pregnant girl," said Cheryl.

"You're the most beautiful pregnant woman I've ever seen," said Bridgette.

"I agree," I added.

With Michael gone and Cheryl staying, Mom insisted my pregnant girlfriend use the master bedroom, plenty of room on the king size bed for threesomes when Pat joined us, and a couple foursomes with Molly. When we got to the room, Bridgette asked, "Could I freshen up?"

"There's room in the shower for three," Cheryl offered.

"Sounds good. Give me a minute."

"I could join you, get the shower ready."

"Uhm, that's okay."

The congresswoman couldn't tell us she had to shit. "Just turn on the shower when you're ready," Cheryl suggested.

"I will."

"I still wish it was just us," I whispered to Cheryl while we stripped.

"Pat will miss you too," Cheryl responded, entering my arms for a lingering kiss. I turned her around and undid her bra, my arms moving to surround her, my hands moving on her thickening belly.

"Too bad she's been so busy," I whispered into her ear, nibbling it, making her sigh.

"She's loving the work almost as much as sex," Cheryl chuckled. "I'm thinking I'm going to go distract her after you leave."

"Good idea," I returned, a hand cupping her breast which also seemed to be getting larger. The other hand slipped under her panties, the only thing she still wore. Slickness just beginning at her slit, I brought some of the moisture up to her clit and rubbed. She moaned and pressed back against my developing hardness. Cocking her head back, I lowered mine and we managed to kiss. She hummed into my mouth from my strokes into her and across her clit and my fingers plucking at her already turgid nipples.

The sound of the shower broke the embrace. We finished undressing, her panties and my pants and underwear and entered the bathroom. Bridgette stood at the entrance to the shower stall adjusting the temperature of the water still wearing her bra. "Let me," Cheryl smiled and undid the bra. After tossing it aside, Bridgette followed us into the shower. A couple washcloths waited to be used as well as shower gel, shampoo and conditioner. "Let me," Cheryl said again, meaning taking the washcloth and soap and washing Bridgette. "Joe's already enjoyed that hot body of yours."

"Hot compared to yours?" Bridgette argued.

"Yep," I said, grabbing the other washcloth and washing her too. Her body wasn't perfect, but had really nice full breasts and an ass to match, and a most appealing softness, womanly which I found really sexy. While we treated her to a sensuous cleaning, she returned the favor by taking my cock and gently fisting it and exploring Cheryl's body with her other hand, mostly breasts and belly until she came to the slit which she began to finger. Kissing became involved as well, especially between the two women.

My cleaning became mostly forgotten with my hands targeting sexual places, Bridgette's breasts and pussy and I kissed other erogenous spots like her neck and ears.

Soon cleaning got forgotten completely. Cheryl traded my fingers inside Bridgette for hers while sustaining the kiss and adding tongue. My free hand moved to Cheryl's pussy. Bridgette's tugged at Cheryl's nipples. Cheryl joined Bridgette at my cock, sometimes caressing my balls or fisting my shaft while Bridgette tugged at my helmet.

Bridgette came first, and with the distraction Cheryl took over fisting me exclusively causing my orgasm. Instead of shifting attention to Cheryl, she suggested, "Let's continue this in bed."

A quick, perfunctory drying, we hurried to the bed where Cheryl laid out on her back and Bridgette slid between those long legs to attack her pussy with mouth and fingers. "Bring that penis here," Cheryl insisted, beckoning it to her mouth. I straddled her shoulders facing her, but neither of us found that comfortable. "Lie on your back, Joe, head to the foot of the bed," Cheryl decided.

When I did, Cheryl straddled my head, keeping her ass high so Bridgette could continue tonguing her and fingering her while I watched. My hands reached back to fondle Cheryl's nipples. Bridgette for a woman was surprisingly poor at cunniligus. Too careful I thought, and not persistent enough. So I decided to coach her having had quite a lot of experience with that particular pussy. It helped, Cheryl cumming a couple minutes later.

"Grab a condom from the bedside table," Cheryl ordered the congresswoman. "He's ready for you."

Bridgette rolled it on and straddled my hips. Cheryl remained over me and guided Bridgette's pussy to her mouth. Since Cheryl's had settled onto my mouth, I began working her towards another orgasm. Bridgette's moans told of Cheryl's talented tongue, and by the time Cheryl shifted, bringing my cock to Bridgette's cunt and Bridgette settled down on it, she was near cumming. A few slow strokes later, with Cheryl assisting rubbing her clit, Bridgette did cum. I felt the shimmers inside her try to milk me, but mostly focused on continuing to pleasure Cheryl.

Soon Bridgette started posting on me, angling lower to find the best friction but also to bring her mouth to Cheryl's nipples, Cheryl lifting her torso to accommodate. This time Cheryl came first, and after I enjoyed the flow of sex juices filling my mouth, she hopped off. Bridgette stopped posting, mostly grinding into me, close but not quite there. "Hold onto me," I said, and when she did I flipped us over and began shafting her with more and more power and quickness, which was what she wanted, and she came because of it, and I kept thrusting, speeding up to get my own seconds later.

"Yes!" she shouted as if she could feel my pulses, my expression and undulations probably making it clearer, but it obviously thrilled her that she'd made me cum unlike our last time.

After relaxing for a few minutes, Cheryl asked Bridgette, "What would you like next?"

"Uhm, I'd like to watch you two make love."

Cheryl chuckled. "No problem. Joe?"

"Sounds good," I chuckled too.

"We'll need to get him hard again. Want to help?"

"Can I just watch?"

"Of course. Grab me a couple tissues, would you?" which Bridgette did, and Cheryl used one to enclose the condom and handed it to Bridgette who carefully left it on the bedside table. The other Cheryl used to clean off some of my semen. Once tossed aside, she crawled atop me, straddling my face and we commenced a sixty-nine, our voyeur seemingly fascinated by both our efforts.

As soon as Cheryl got me hard, she moved onto her back and I positioned myself over her, basically kneeling between her thighs which she draped against my torso, legs high and feet hooked near my shoulder at my upper arm. Pregnancy restricted our choices, and this was our missionary version, luckily both of us finding it highly stimulating. Except for it being a bit taxing, and when Cheryl got lost in orgasm her holding herself up also got lost, adding more effort for me keeping her pussy in line with my cock. I managed just fine, adding squeezing her fine ass as part of my stimulation.

Other stimulation had also been added. "Come play with my tits, Bridgette," Cheryl asked soon after I entered her. It was obvious my position made it difficult for me to do so. The more we fucked, the more Bridgette participated, starting with hands on tits, then mouth on one and fingers rubbing Cheryl's clit. Finally, after Cheryl came hard the first time, Bridgette moved her fingers off the clit and brought it to her own and began kissing Cheryl with tongue. Cheryl pulled back from Bridgette's mouth to let forth the gasps of her next orgasm, and not long after Bridgette created her own. That seemed to end Bridgette's participation until Cheryl approached her climax, and my strokes had quickened also nearing mine, and Bridgette must have noticed, returning to fingers on clit and nipple and mouth on the other nipple, and she seemed to put more pressure on everything, and when my last flurry brought me over, Cheryl joined me almost immediately. After the last of the orgasmic throbs ended we all collapsed, me onto my back catching my breath. It had been a long athletic fuck and an intense orgasm and exhaustion took me into oblivion.

Early the next morning, the sun not yet risen, I awoke from a sex dream, Karen's hot pussy fucking me, to the wonderful realization that I did have something warm and wet on my cock, it being Bridgette sucking me while Cheryl sucked her from behind.

"He's awake," Bridgette moaned upon removing her mouth off my erection.

Cheryl handed her a condom which she rolled on. "Fuck her Joe," Cheryl told me, moving from behind her and replacing me on the bed when I replaced her, aiming my cock to Bridgette's hot and ready cunt and pushing in. Thus Bridgette got what she wanted most, being fucked while sucking pussy. I noticed Cheryl guiding her, with words and fingers atop fingers, Cheryl's free hand working her nipples.

I decided I needed to sensitize myself so as not to hold back, knowing part of what Bridgette needed was knowing I'd cum because of her. Bridgette had cum rather profoundly fairly early on in the fuck, her second one minutes later, which I ended up having to hold back for her to get and actually couldn't stop cumming first, although it probably helped trigger hers because hers was particularly enthusiastic.

At Bridgette's insistence Cheryl and I remained in bed watching her dress and, after a couple quick kisses, left. As soon as she did I pulled Cheryl atop me having her suck me hard again while bringing her close. She had orgasmed once from Bridgette's attempt, but it didn't seem all that strong. I remained sucking even after she got me hard until I teased her to the edge and then had her remain on her front on the bed, fucking her doggy style through a quick orgasm and a couple more.

"Okay," Cheryl moaned. "Enough."

Chuckling, I separated from her only to have her mouth take my cock in. "Cheryl...," I sort of objected.

Her eyes spoke her desire, so shrugging I let her do her best, and surprisingly her best was good enough to have her swallow what little I had left as far as ejaculate.

We showered together after, in a way saying goodbye to each other's bodies for a while. We dried and I dressed, her just throwing on a long housecoat, and we headed downstairs. Molly waited for us, giving us a nod. My mother sat beside her continuing that weird friendship. Carla stepped into the dining room. "Pannekoeken?" she asked.

"Do I have time?" I asked Molly hopefully.

"Yes," she said simply.

"Cool," I grinned.

Chapter 14

After endless seeming travel to Georgia, the ex-soviet one, even with a day and night break in Amsterdam where Molly managed to track down an old high school friend of mine whose dual citizenship, his father British, allowed him to stay in the permissive city and indulge his fondness for marijuana, and of course we copped some at a coffeehouse and smoked it at his favorite bar with some friends before he gave me a tour of the red light district where, being a writer, I experienced my first time with a prostitute, a particularly sexy young black woman whom I paid extra so that after an adequate blow job and a surprisingly enthusiastic fuck we could talk, I arrived at the resort ready to rest for at least a day.

No one met me at the small airport, which surprised me. My Russian, at best adequate, got me a cab ride, probably overcharged, to the hotel sitting right on the Black Sea. A bellhop looking to be about my age, slim and fairly tall with surprisingly long brown hair in a ponytail took my bags to the second floor facing the pool rather than the Sea, the room small, probably the least expensive. After my generous tip he gave me a smirk which I could only call slimy and let me know he could provide extras if I so wanted.

"Good to know," I basically replied in Russian, not exactly encouraging him, mostly getting him out of the room without it going any further. I tried calling Lizzie in her room without answer. Lying back, resting, I was too worried to drift off for a nap. About a half hour later the hotel phone rang.

"Hello?"

"It's Molly," I heard.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Mikhail called me," she explained. "Apparently Lizzie had given him my number in case anything might happen to her. They had plans to meet where you are, and then nothing."

"Shit," I muttered. "Karen..."

"Probably not a good idea visiting. I suppose you called their room."

"When Lizzie didn't show up..."

"I understand Joe. Let me give you an address. Some friend of Mikhail's from school who's a waiter between acting gigs or something. Just bring your passport and maybe a change of clothes and of course anything that might be valuable. Take the back stairs and use the back exit. Do you have something to write this down?"

"Just a second."

I brought out my notebook and a pen and she gave me an address and the directions to get there, obviously working off a map on her computer.

"I'm not sure if George will be there," she added, "but he's sharing the place with someone who works later shifts, so someone should be able to let you in."

"Thanks," I said.

"We'll get them out, if Lizzie hasn't already," she continued. "I'm working on something that will help. And I'm coming there."

"Good."

"If Lizzie tries making contact, I'll make sure her call gets transferred to Cheryl while I'm in transit. I'll give Cheryl George's number. I'll be there by tomorrow."

"Okay."

"I know you're worried. We'll get them out, okay?"

"Yes Molly."

Since I obviously hadn't unpacked, I shoved my passport into a zippered pocket in my shoulder bag which already contained my laptop, my smartphone, a couple magazines and a paperback book. I added a shirt and some boxer underwear for a change of clothing. Since it was relatively cool out, I put on a cardigan sweater under the linen sports jacket, my choice of travel jackets, and tore out the directions before shoving in my notebook and left it at that.

Nerves on edge I padded down a thankfully empty hallway to some stairs, just a couple flights down to the main level and out the side door. Once on the road that bordered the beach I headed right, past another resort hotel before pulling out the directions again, getting them memorized, and headed towards George's apartment.

Five blocks later I stood in front of the old apartment building that had seen better times. After buzzing the apartment and waiting, I tried the inner door of the entrance area and found it unlocked. The thick magic marker written on some brown cardboard posted over the button on the elevator I couldn't translate, it being written in Cyrillic, but I figured "Not in Service" would be the likely translation, so I took the stairs, ending up on the third floor. Knocking lightly on the door brought no response either, so I decided to settle onto the floor and wait. The lighting provided just enough light to read.

Surprisingly, maybe 10 to 15 minutes later, the door opened and a chubby man probably in his late thirties, looking into the apartment while tucking in his shirt, exited. I decided to wait a couple steps away. When he noticed me, he smiled nervously and walked away quickly.

A tall, somewhat plain blonde woman stepped out wearing a flowery housecoat. "You must be Joe," she said in Russian. "Don't worry, he thinks you are my next customer. Come in."

The apartment was old but well kept, a one bedroom it looked like, with a small kitchen to the left, a square table for four occupying much of it, and to the right a couch and armchair, flowery matching upholstery similar to her robe, a fairly large wide-screen LED tv their focus and a low wooden coffee table close to the couch. She gestured to the armchair and lay out on the couch like it was a chaise lounge, the coat opening a bit giving me a glimpse of cleavage and a hint of nipple on full, pert breasts, and what appeared to be a firm belly. Her face may have been plain, but she seemed to have a really nice body.

"You speak Russian?" she asked once I settled in.

"Some."

"French?" she asked in French.

"A bit better." I responded in kind.

"Good," and in English, "My English not so good."

So we spoke in French, the foreign language of choice for me both in high school and college, and I spent most of a summer there to get even better at it after getting my Bachelor degree.

"My name is Lara," she told me. "You are surprised to see me?"

"I thought...," I began. "Mikhail is..."

She laughed. "We are only roommates and we work different shifts. I am a dancer at night."

"For gentlemen?" I asked.

Again she laughed. "Gentlemen, yes. Perhaps not so much gentlemen as you. If you pay perhaps I can find out how gentle a man you are."

"You know that is not why I'm here," I said.

"Yes of course, But I like sex and I like money, both the same, yes?"

"You have a beautiful body," I told her.

"I know," she grinned. "And so?"

I found my decision easy, and not just because of her obvious assets. Considering my state of mind, her calm and her amusement seemed to relax me. And it would be like payment for having Mikhail's friend give me sanctuary. "Do you have a bath?" I asked while pulling the wallet from my back pocket. I had exchanged for some Georgian Lari, but also had some dollars. "American or Georgian?"