Rags to Riches

Cynthia clasped her dress top back together and pulled Bridget's evening gown back up. Bridget slid her arm around the woman's waist, getting a good handful of ass. She giggled, but whispered "Just a minute, please." as she gave her a quick kiss. Bridget was slightly confused until Elliot opened the door and yelled up the stairs. "Aubrey, come down her please." Bridget looked at Cynthia quizzically. A quick pattering of footsteps preceded the appearance of a lovely young blonde woman in a floral print sundress.

"Yes, father?" she said, looking Bridget up and down. "Oh. I guess I'll be spending the night at Suzette's." she said, an annoyed expression on her face.

"Is her brother Teddy going to be there?" he asked, somewhat sternly. "I don't want you going over there if he and his degenerate friends are just going to use you all night now that you are old enough. You know how I feel about that." Bridget was uncomfortable at seeing a slice of family life, but maintained her composure.

"No, Dad; he's not going to be there if he doesn't know I'm coming over. Besides, he's got eyes for "Cynthia" more than he does me anyway." Cynthia blushed badly. Elliot was not having it.

"Just because Cynthia isn't your biological mother doesn't mean she isn't your Mom. You will show her some respect." The girl mumbled an apology as she shouldered passed them before hopping on her bicycle and riding down the sidewalk towards her destination. It was starting to make sense to Bridget now. Elliot must be her father who sired her but ended up marrying someone else. It was a common story in Diesel City. Some women just didn't want to raise a child they were required by law to bear. If the father didn't claim the child (and before paternity testing it would have been nearly impossible anyway), the child went into the system; which meant a direct pipeline from the orphanage to a military academy and onto the front lines. It was a somewhat cruel system that kept the great US War Machine fed, no matter who got chewed up in its gears.

"Sorry about that." Elliot said, showing Bridget in. She took it all in at once. They had hardwood floors and were obviously fans of the art deco style. Everywhere she looked was black and gold and deeply stained oak or hickory. The large staircase that led upstairs had a balcony and a central hallway that separated the main bedroom from their daughter's. At the other end of the living room she walked into was a study full of books and hardwood, expensive furniture, the other direction having a dining room with a lovely long table and a kitchen beyond that. It was the nicest house she'd ever been in.

Bridget thought back to her dirty, concrete walled apartment. She thought about the roaches in Winter and the mice in Summer. She thought about why she had to have a deadbolt when a drunk beggar burst through her door, cock hard in one hand and a knife in the other. It was the only time Bridget ever fired her revolver at another human being. She missed, and by a wide margin; but it sent him running. "I want to see the bedroom." Bridget said. Cynthia's finger tips ran her up back and onto her shoulder before running back down.

"This way." she said with a naughty grin. Bridget let her lead her by the hand up the stairs. They even had some artwork on the walls. She gasped when they arrived at the master bedroom. A massive four posted bed with dark mahogany wood and a thick mattress covered in red and black silk sheets greeted her vision. She glanced over to see Cynthia's large vanity and mirror, and Elliot's standing wardrobe.

"Can I lay on the bed?" she asked. Cynthia chuckled.

"You're using me, remember?" she said, prodding her foreward. Bridget hooked the edges of her dress, and pushed it down. She kicked her shoes off of her pretty toes, and held her arms out to the sides. She closed her eyes and slowly fell backward. She laughed as she rolled over on the bed, feeling the silk sheets against her sensitive skin. It was best bed she'd ever been on, and by a great degree. "So, how would you like to use me, Bridget?" Cynthia asked, already to the point of bending over to step out of her dress. Bridget beheld her voluptuous, pale form as she slowly pulled her cat eye glasses off and walked toward her.

"Come here, right now." she said, her voice full of lust. Cynthia insinuated herself onto the edge of the bed, and crawled up Bridget's nude body. They kissed passionately, rolling over each other as they tore at the sheets until Cynthia ended up on top. Cynthia held her shoulders to the mattress, pinning her. She slowly lowered her DD Cup breasts down so that their nipples would lightly touch when she swayed them slowly up and down and back and forth. Bridget couldn't believe it, but she felt a small orgasm pulse through her.

"Seems you really like girls, huh?" Cynthia said, crawling higher until she was straddling Bridget's chest, kneading and squeezing her breasts in turn. Bridget gasped for breath, her toes curling.

She swallowed hard, and exhaled. "Seems I do..." she said, catching her breath. Cynthia pushed a lock of her platinum blonde hair away from her face. Cynthia slid one knee over her arm, and then the other. Bridget was looking up into her hairless, sopping wet cunt.

"Then you are going to love this." she said, lowering her pussy to Bridget's face while pulling her by the head upwards, mashing her mouth onto her juice-covered sex. Bridget slid a hand down her body and immediately started plunging her fingers into herself as she desperately licked the stunning blonde's spasming sex. Cynthia pulled her clitoral hood back with one hand, and started rapidly rubbing her clit with the other.

"Ugh! Ugh! UGH! UGH!" she moans as Bridget's tongue and finger seemed to possess her. Bridget's eyes flutter as she comes again.

"UGH!UGH!UGHUGHUGHHHH!!!!!!" Cynthia moans as her fingers are a blur of stimulation. She arches her back, and suddenly Bridget's mouth is flooded with her juices. She swallowed quickly, opening her mouth as another spray explodes from the gorgeous woman's vagina. Cynthia laughs, and suddenly digs her nails into Bridget's shoulders as she slides down her body. Bridget looks down as she tosses her quivering legs over her shoulders.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" Bridget exclaims as Cynthia's tongue assaults her clitoris while her fingers rapidly, roughly stab into her. Unnoticed to them, Elliot stands at the doorway, calmly smoking a pipe. He watches for a while, a sad smile on his face. The event that caused his injuries were quite...extensive and he hadn't been able to please her in the traditional way for many years. Still, he tore his eyes away and walked down the stairs.

He listened to Bridget come again and again as he walked into the den and pulled out a small radio. He extended the antenna and plugged in a large metal microphone. Next, he pulled out a larger box and plugged it into that. Finally, he depressed the "talk" button. The end of the antenna split in 8 ways, forming a transmission disk.

"Jawohl. I have a person in my home that knows ze intricacies of ze British Bombadier rocket pack system." A question was asked of him. He laughed. "No! She approached Ingrid for sex, if you can believe it!" Another question. "Nein, nein; she does not know who we really are..." He heard a loud thump on the ceiling and looked up, listening to the final question. He watched the dust float down as Bridget screamed in ecstasy. "Ja, I think that can be arranged." he said, a wicked smile on his face.