They Say Bad Things Happen In Threes. Part two
Copyright Catcher78 all rights reserved.
Author's notes, this is the beginning of a series that touches on elements of loving wives, group sex, interracial sex and transgender cross dresser themes. Everyone fucking during this story is eighteen
We first found Benny Eriksen here:
https://literotica.com/s/bad-things-happen-in-threes-pt-01
If you recall Benny discovers his wife and mother of his kids had cheated on clueless Benny for ever and was going to divorce Benny and marry a dirty cop. Their oldest child was his, but the next two belonged to the ex-mayor of Bremerton and he really wasn't sure about the others. He went home and found his sole daughter, being fucked senseless by a gorgeous shemale who was hung like a donkey and his daughter was totally pregnant. Photo albums showed Cece with the dirty cop and my kids on trips and even a couple of different Christmas mornings. I was out of town with the paving company paying for everything. Lastly Benny found detailed ledgers of a ten year long money laundering
The highway was a two lane affair and I was gentle with my rig, bringing her up to speed, sixty miles per hour stated speed, but seventy seemed to be okay and the little bitch was singing through the tuned exhausts, especially as I double clutched going up through gears to keep up rpms. Bap bap she said and then as I pushed her a little she moaned deeply, awaaaaaah and the noise reverberated in the valley. I was drinking root beer and smoking a Calixto Lopez cigarro de Mexico, a so called Rothchild cut with a fifty four ring gauge and six inches long. It was a great cigar and never disappointed.
If the road's grade steepened, I'd downshift, got as low as third gear and then we'd crested and it was mostly down shifting to coast and it was just past ten when I rolled into Twisp. I parked behind the Cinnamon Twist Bakery. I went in and looked at the menu hanging from the ceiling, then walked up to the counter.
I was going to order some apple fritters and coffee and looked into the green eyes of the hottest, smoke show red head I'd ever seen. There were freckles and a hint of lipstick and a ponytail. Green checked cotton blouse so full of tits, oh fuck, little Benny was painfully awake and untouched in recent memory and needing attention, she filled up some jeans. She defined voluptuous. Little Benny was talking to me, the first time since Miss Oliver's sex education class when she asked me why I had not left my chair after class and I confessed I was painfully stuck, she chuckled and left the room.
Benny was screaming at me now, can't you smell her show me to her.
She spoked to me, "Dude you just going to stare at me?"
"I came up for some fritters and coffee, but staring at you seemed to be the smarter thing to do. Do you have any idea at all what you're doing to me. I might as well be thirteen. You are startlingly hot and I'd do anything to make you feel loved."
Her nostrils flared open when I said, "make you feel loved," fools rush in, "I'm moving here, and have an old cabin, but want to find something better, dinner tonight? I'm not a creep, I'd die of regret if I never tried with you."
"Dinner's fine, "she said, "pick me up at five thirty, address and phone number is on card."
I held her hand and our eyes were locked and I heard myself say, "I'm falling so fast, sweet Jesus, I'm out of control."
She leaned in and our lips touched, her tongue traced my lips and I sucked hard on tongue. She pulled back and patted my face and said, "Don't shave baby, you're hot."
My cabin did have a wood fired cookstove, there was split wood, there was a hot water heater, that was heated by a connection off the wood stove's firepit. It was old, it did not look commercial. There were two gauges one for temperature and the other for water level. I grabbed a stool so he could see the top of the tank and there was a pipe feeding in from the rear wall of the cabin. I got down and went out the front door and around to the back of the cabin. There was an elaborate gutter that was thirty inches wide and it in turn was fed by a pipe from this small creek.
Somehow the water flow was forceful enough to push water up into the pipe. I noticed that there was an old fashion glass electric meter on the side of the house, the old glass ones from the mid twentieth century and it ran down a metal pipe that went into the ground. There was no use of electricity but new power was available. I couldn't figure out what storage device and what was the power used for
I walked away from the cabin. I started to hear the burbling creek before I saw it. It was maybe six feet across. Far more interesting was the steel and sheet metal box spanning the creek and there was a steel paddle wheel. I could hear electrical whining inside.
I walked back to the cabin and went inside and looked for signs of electrical use. I opened a small closet door, I think it had an accordion door. I opened it up and there was a fuse box, with old glass fuses. They were all loose and I tightened them and then there was light. I drove down to the Wheatland bank branch with my trust documents for the fishing camp trust and asked the trust officer about some things I was going to do and then asked him to set up accounts six accounts in banks in Waitsburg, Washington, Baker City, Oregon, Walla Walla, Washington, and Montreal, Quebec, Canada. I wrote something on a piece of paper on a piece of paper.
The water heater filled up as did a cold water tank. I put a hasp on the front door and a new padlock. Wouldn't keep serious folks out but kids for sure.
