President's Girlfriend 06 - The Sins of the Fathers

PROLOGUE

TWELVE YEARS EARLIER

Dutch Harber stood at the wall-to-wall window that overlooked
a panoramic view of Vegas at night.
 
He
gulped down the last of his drink as laughter roared in the adjacent room.

“They’re
waiting for you,” Max said as he stared at his long-time friend.

Dutch said
nothing.
 
He continued to stare out of
that window, and at the swirling nightlife that surrounded the well-placed
hotel.
 

Max looked
at that nightlife, too, and then looked at his friend again.
 
“Dutch, they’re waiting for you,” he said
once more.

Dutch
finally looked at Max.
 
He was, by far,
his oldest and dearest friend.
 
“Care to
join us?” he asked with a wicked smile, already certain of the answer.
 

“Thanks, but
no,” Max said with a note of distaste in his voice.
 
“Besides, Senator McKenzie hates my
guts.
 
He’ll choke on his own vomit if I
showed my face in there.”

Dutch
laughed mildly, although, in Max’s mind, it was hardly funny.
 
Dutch Harber and Crader McKenzie were both
well-respected United States Senators attending a winter retreat for the
congressional reelection committee, and were behaving like this.
 
Not funny at all.
 
Boozing and banging, that was all they’d been
doing all weekend long.
 
Boozing and
banging.
 
And although Dutch would
declare he was only slightly tipsy, Max knew he was practically stoned.

Dutch did
manage, however, to hand Max his empty glass.
 
Their hands touched in the exchange, with Max gripping Dutch’s hand
slightly longer than was necessary, as if to keep Dutch with him and out of
that room.
 
Dutch felt his friend’s
momentary grasp, but pulled slightly harder to release his hand.
 
He was no abstainer like Max.
 
He had to have it, and he had to have it
repeatedly.
 

“I’ll see
you in the morning,” he said with what Max thought was a regretful look in his
sharp green eyes.
 
And then his tall,
lean body headed for the bedroom.

Max stared
at that body, at the way he moved so elegantly.
 
Why he wasted his gifts in places like this was a mystery to Max.

But he
wasn’t so mystified that he mused over it long.
 
He had a job to do.
 
That was his
role, after all.
 
He was, if he were to be
honest with himself, nothing more than Dutch Harber’s clean-up man.
 
He’d played that role since they were kids in
boarding school.
 
He always danced to
Dutch’s tune.
 
Always.

But what was
the alternative, he thought as he placed the glass on the
hotel’s
wet bar.
 
Dance to
his
own
tune, and without Dutch?
 
He
knew that wasn’t a possibility.
 
Dutch
Harber was going places, and he was going right along with him.

He proceeded
to tidy up the cigarette butts and empty beer bottles and numerous wine glasses
that lined the room.
 
This was all in the
aftermath of the get together Dutch had thrown earlier for other members of
Congress.
 
Max couldn’t chance having
some cleaning crew see this mess, take pictures, and sell those pictures to the
tabloids.
 
Then some tabloid story comes
out proclaiming this was how so-called public servants spent their weekends,
not to mention how they were spending the American people’s tax dollars.
 

So dutiful Max tidied up the entire room.
 
But he wasn’t about to leave the suite.
 
Not yet.
 
He needed
insurance.
 
Always had
to have that insurance.
 
He pulled
out his small, trim-line camera, walked over to the closed bedroom door, and
waited.

His wait was
short.
 
Because within moments of his
arrival at the closed door, Dutch let out one of his loud roars that allowed
Max to crack open the bedroom door without being heard.

And there
they were.
 
The Honorable Senator Crader
McKenzie and
The
Honorable Senator Walter “Dutch”
Harber.
 
Both naked on
the bed.
 
Both
cocks thick and long and being given serious head by the same gorgeous girl.
 
Beautiful Elvelyn, the
blond bombshell Max hand-picked to spend the night with them.
 
She was a good girl from a good family and
she knew how to keep her mouth shut.
 
And
she loved to fuck, as long as the guys were hot.
 
Dutch and Crader, even Max had to admit, were
scorchers.

And Max took
pictures, all sorts of pictures, of their scorch.

They were
lying across the bed and she was on her knees on that bed, positioned between
both men.
 
Her long, blonde hair kept
slinging around her face and she had to keep slinging it back out of her
way.
 
And although she would pleasure
Crader McKenzie, Max knew she favored Dutch.
 
She’d give Crader a few licks, a mouthful even, but then she kept moving
that mouth back to Dutch’s massive rod.
 
She’d not only lick Dutch, but would go all the way down on him, and
would fill her mouth with that gorgeous pink cock like it was a bite of
porterhouse steak.
 
Max licked his lips
just imagining how it tasted.
 

Dutch was
laid back, his arms over his forehead, his beautiful eyes closed.
 
He was an Adonis to Max, his ripped abs so
taut and tight he looked like the prime pump in a sea of prime pumps.
 
And that massive tool
between his legs.
 
It mesmerized
Max.
 
So long, so thick, and oh so
juicy.
 
And his camera clicked furiously.

But when
Dutch suddenly moved Elvelyn to where she was on top of him, and rammed his
dick deep inside of her in one swift shove, causing the woman to scream out in
ecstasy, Max almost spilled his beans right where he stood.
 

Crader then
got on top of her, ramming his cock up her ass, and they were going at it like
sex-starved teenagers, with Dutch easily holding all of their weight.
 
All Max could see of the woman was her legs,
sandwiched between these two so-called dignified senators, and they were
tapping that thang of hers so hard Crader’s own ass was shaking as he pounded
her.
 
And these were supposed to be the
pillars of their community, Max thought.
 
Two of the most powerful men in the Senate, and among
the most powerful in all of the United States.
 
Two sex perverts, if you asked Max.

Dutch and
Crader were both nearly drunk, and Elvelyn wasn’t far behind, but Max hadn’t
had a drop of liquor.
 
He was stone cold
sober as he watched.
 
As he took his
pictures but kept stopping to watch.
 
As
he unzipped his pants and kept watching Dutch thrash into that girl, harder and
harder, as if she was just his plaything.
 
And Max couldn’t take it.

He pulled it
out, to release the pressure, and immediately found himself jerking off.
 
He jerked so hard he could hear himself began
to grunt it out.
 
He jerked so hard that
he soon created a huge puddle of cum at his feet.
 
And it kept pouring out.
 
Because he couldn’t stop watching Dutch
thrash her.
 
He wanted to be in that girl’s
position.
 
He wanted it to be him, and
not some
got
damn bitch, Dutch was
filling up.
 
He wanted to fill up Dutch!

And as soon
as that rush of emotion ebbed, and his cum was drained out, and he was just
standing there jerking on an empty, limp dick, he was ashamed of himself.
 
Deeply ashamed.
 
He wasn’t even gay, for crying out loud!
 
How could he have such dirty, horrible
thoughts!

And like
every bad turn his life ever took, including this spontaneous act of shame, Max
just knew this was all Dutch Harber’s fault, too.

CHAPTER ONE

TWELVE YEARS LATER

Dutch stood
quietly in the shower stall long after his bath was over.
 
He ran his fingers through his silky black hair
and leaned his head all the way back, to absorb the shock of full-forced water
as it poured down every curve of his muscular, sinewy body.

He had been
at the Helsinki Summit for three days now.
 
Three long days of negotiations by
all of the
major world leaders and they were no closer to an agreement on Europe’s debt
crisis than they had been on day one.
 
He
missed his wife, he missed his son, he even missed the back and forth of DC
politics.
 
At least in Washington he knew
where people stood.
 
Here, in Helsinki,
Finland, some forty-three hundred miles away, it wasn’t even about taking a
position.
 
It was all about
not
taking one and wasting everybody’s
time
not
saying so.
 
Of all the wack-ass duties he had to perform
as President of the United States, and there were many, attending these useless
summits ranked highest among them.

He turned
the water off and prepared to leave the shower.
 
At least today was the last day he planned to remain in town, agreement
or no agreement, as those long, drawn-out meetings were set to resume in less
than an hour.
 
Problems had better be
ironed out today, he had already warned his counterparts, or they weren’t going
to be ironed out with assistance from the United States.
 
But as soon as he opened the shower door and
stepped out onto the bathroom tile, another problem was staring him in the
face:
 
His daughter.
 
Jade.

Jade stood
in the middle of the hotel’s bathroom anxiously anticipating her father’s
appearance.
 
She was dressed comfortably,
in a printed cropped blazer and a pair of white slim-leg pants.
 
The layered curls of her long, brown hair
fell over both her shoulders, and her dark green eyes against her light-brown
skin gave her a stunning appearance.
 
She
knew she was a mixed-race beauty.
 
Her
parents, she felt
,
were both far too attractive for
her not to be a looker.

But
sometimes she felt unsure of herself.
 
She felt uncomfortable with herself.
 
As if she was a nuisance to everybody who knew her, but they didn’t have
the guts to tell her so.

When her
father stepped out of the shower stall, and saw her standing there, he was
startled by the sight.
 
Jade’s eyes
immediately trailed downward, from his muscular chest and washboard abs, to
what she could only describe as his remarkable endowment.
 
But when she saw that he was displeased by
her bold appearance in his bathroom, and especially by where her eyes had
trailed to, she immediately sprang into action.
 
It was difficult, but a tear did come.

“What’s the
matter?” Dutch asked as her pretty brown face suddenly became a mask of
anguish.