Bad Things Happen in Threes

They Say Bad Things Happen In Threes. Part one

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

I'm Benny Eriksen. I'm thirty eight will be married to Cecillia twenty years, this July 19th. Our oldest daughter Sally, is nineteen almost twenty, we'd been married three months when she was born, middle daughter is eighteen Bev and her younger sister by twenty minutes Betsy is eighteen as well.

I work for a big paving company in Bremerton, most of the work coming in the Puget Sound Naval Shipyards. Today as I arrived for my Monday shift, we were all directed to this big, now empty building that dated from World War II where they worked on Destroyer Escorts, tiny little ships, no longer in the Navy inventory. Once we were all milling around in there talking softly asking if anyone knew this was about a Navy Captain, the equivalent of an Army Colonel came out and said. "From this day forward you all are in a temporary force reduction. You will receive notice in your mail confirming this as well any rescinding of this action should it occur.

I trudged out to the parking lot and where my 1990 Isuzu Trooper waited. V-4 3.0 liter, fuel injected, with tuned exhaust, five speed, auto locking hubs, cruise control. I was thinking I'd head home to Seabeck, Washington which is on the Eastern Shore of Hood Canal, but Cece worked as a barrista on Wheaton Way that I'd drive by and get a coffee and say hey, we would be okay, moneywise, I rebuilt these troopers and did well doing it.

I headed up the Warren Avenue Bridge which turned into Wheaton Way, since our shift's overlapped she had told me she wanted to be working when I came by. Her place was a little offset from the road by eight hundred feet and there were overhanging branches from tall alder trees, I got in line and the car was really close to her window and I don't see like I did as a teenager, but I did have some binoculars, so I got those focused and my Cece was being face fucked by this fat bellied guy who had a big dick. Finally he grabbed the back of her head and nutted.

I pulled out of line and backed away into the corner of the lot. I looked at my smart phone to see if I could shoot video's that were visible. The next guy was a teenager with a skinny little dick. I shot the video for about twenty seconds. Played them back and they were quite clear. I set up a Google photo storage, to put the videos into so I didn't blow up my phone cloud storage. It worked.

For four hours she gave blow jobs, fucked a bunch of guys and at two o'clock it was culminated by a Bremerton Cop Car, a Ford SUV driven by this big black sheriff who parked off to the side and she came outside her little barrista shack and climbed into the back seat and closed the door.

I quietly walked down towards the cop car on the passenger side and I restarted the video, (I was Bremerton's Oliver Stone now) her legs were wrapped around his thick neck and the biggest dick I'd ever seen was easily going in and out of her very sloppy cunt.

"Tommy I've loved you since high school, Benny's a good dad, I want to be as nice as I can in this process when I divorce him. Can I have your baby, I'm a good mom..."

There it was right there. I'd thought at first she had daddy issues and I could help her and be supportive through slut therapy, but nope.

She'd been doing this for ten years. Five guys per hour times ten hours is fifty johns getting blow jobs or getting fucked every day, five days a week times fifty two weeks a year times ten years. We are talking millions of dollars maybe. I paid the bills.

I drove home to Seabeck and it took about twenty five minutes and I parked in back. Took my half boots off and came into the kitchen and I could hear the sounds of more sex. Cece could not have beat me home. The smack of hip into ass from doggy style fucking and grunts and my daughter Sally saying, "Right there bitch, destroy my cunt, you big ass slut."

Then another voice, a throating woman's voice, "You're jiggly fat ass always makes me cum."

I took my phone out and started my second movie. Sally was bent over the end of our couch and this tall red headed woman, with the biggest dick I'd ever seen, even bigger than Cece's soon to be husband's BBC. I backed away quietly and left the house and started towards Silverdale. I texted Cece and said I was going to bachelor party for guy from work, Bobby, and not to wait up. I then turned my phone off.

I drove off towards Poulsbo and got a motel room and for only sixty nine dollars and it was new and clean. I drove over to central market and got two extra large pizzas Canadian bacon with pineapple and jalapenos. Then a meat lovers with hamburger, sausage, bacon and extra parmesan two beers and a half gallon of two percent milk.

Some people would think I'm saying that it's wrong for my of age daughter to be in love with a transgender woman. Nope, what I was upset about as I watched that video again was that Sally had a discernible belly bump and I was going to be a grandfather. A soon to be divorced grandfather. I was wondering if Cece knew Sally was going to be a mother and why I didn't. I'd never had a cross word with Sally. I mean turn the TV off and do your homework stuff.

I re-rented my room for two more nights. I had some microwaved pizza and milk and went home. It was eight thirty. Cece's bed had been slept in.

I had never been in her walk in closet at all or her dresser, so maybe I'd find something. It did not take long. I found ledgers, detailed ledgers, bank statements, a photo album with her lover and all my girls, birth certificates, DNA tests. I was listed as the father on the birth certificate. The DNA tests indicated that only Sally was mine. We both had AB blood type and the test said I was 99.6% father. But the pictures of them hugging on trips meant I was not in anyone's heart.

There were banks in Bremerton without my name, Vancouver, Canada and fucking Geneva, Switzerland. The money in Wells Fargo in Poulsbo, was $400,000, Vancouver's Canadian Bank of Commerce $2.4 Million and I didn't know about the balances at the Edmund de Rothchild Group. She had an old desktop computer on the little desk in our bedroom and picked up the keyboard and all the names and passwords were there.

I opened up the Rothchild account and it was four million dollars.

I was in control of a functional trust, for a forty acre site that my great grandfather had purchased in the 1930s in the Methow Valley near the small town of Twisp. There was a creek and cabin and I leased out the land for farmers to grow corn. A few wild apple trees, maybe a dozen. I had not been there since I was maybe eight years old. The North Cascades Bank Trust department managed everything taxes any maintenance required.

The trust was named the fishing camp trust. My name was not recorded.

I started going through the detailed ledgers. There was money that would come into the two foreign accounts, big chunks and then after a fashion she had started buying more coffee shacks and then she'd sell them every four or five years and buy others. I was not a forensic accountant, but surely she was laundering money.

I wired four hundred thousand from the Swiss bank and the Canadian bank to the trust department at North Cascades Bank in Twisp. She updated her ledgers usually in the first week of the month. It was June 9th and she had already done that. I had a month before the shit hit the fan.

I put everything back except the journals and skimmed through them. At first I was mentioned, but never again. She had affairs with the Mayor of Bremerton, a Kitsap county council person a married woman, and countless others. Our twins father was the mayor, a guy from Bellevue, Washington. I put them back.

I left all of my clothes, disappearing was the effect I was looking for. I had one Trooper completed and I had a triangular tow bar and connected it to the Trooper I was driving. I had an account in a credit union in Silverdale Boeing Employees Credit Union BECU. I Took $35,000 in cash from the account and left five thousand dollars and had the statements sent to the North Cascades Bank Trust department.

I took my wedding ring off and put it in a drawer in a basin in our bathroom, buried it under some old unused make up.

I sent an email to my employer, the paving company, tendering my resignation and asked that all correspondence be delivered to the North Cascades Bank Trust department for the fishing camp trust. I caught the ferry from Bremerton to Seattle, took an hour and it was just after seven p.m. It would be light out until 9:30.

I was tired and hungry by nine and pulled into a restaurant in Mount Vernon, Washington and it was next to the roaring Skagit River, late run off from the Cascades, snow melt.

It was a Burgermaster. The oldest and best hamburger place in Western Washington. I ordered four double baconmasters, plus four fried split length wise hot dogs on white bread with mustard and ketchup. Two fries, two onion rings, four tartar sauce, two extra large root beers. With tip $117. 24.

I stayed in the Wyndam Motel for $49. Place to park rigs in back. I reminded myself to buy a new phone in the morning at one of the outlet stores, a mile away.

There was a gigantic bed and a huge shower in my room. I hid the thirty five thousand dollars in the room safe. I turned on Netflix and watched an episodic thing about the CIA called the Recruit. Then I ate. First the hotdog sandwiches, with onion rings and root beer. Tartar sauce for the onion rings. It took me forty minutes to do all the sandwich, onion rings and one baconmasters.

I couldn't and wouldn't eat like this for long, but I knew it was grieving of a sort. I gave a minute or so to what did I do to deserve this, sort of the Am I the Asshole here moment, and knew I was not. I was a tool, maybe a clueless beard, that she hid who she really was. I thought about that for a bit and concluded I was still clueless and needed to move on and fully disappear I turned off the Netflix show.

I turned on the shower and washed myself and my clothes and underwear. I rinsed out the clothes and hung them on hangers and hung them from the drapes in the room which was just over the heater and turned on the heater. I had very long black hair and I pulled it into a ponytail.

I put on an old ripped up pair of University of Washington Huskies sweatpants and an old blue wife beater. I put on some flip flops and took $20 bucks with me. I walked slowly down the hall and caught the elevator to go to the lobby. There were vending machines and there was supposed to be freshly baked cookies.

I am six foot one and weighed two thirty five. I had very low body fat. I was not a weightlifter, but I had put on slab muscle in shoulders and traps and pects and abs.

I'd been told women liked my rock hard butt and the small of my back. My dick was seven inches and thick and curved upward..

There were two middle aged women checking in with the manager a woman of similar age, they all had a nice aura about them attractive, maybe fifteen pounds heavier than they were at eighteen. MILFs and little Benny was waking up, they had perfume and what did Al Pacino say in that movie, couldn't remember the title, but he says something about the scent of a woman and made this moment the beginning of a revival, a resurrection and I saw this college aged young woman and she was biting her lip and we locked eyes and then one of women said something to me.

"Ma'am I missed what your said, " I have a very deep speaking voice.

"Do you work here?"

"I am a guest, but might I assist you in some way, " the silent one was blushing and she too was biting her lips."

"I'm sorry I thought with your muscles you were a bell boy."

"I worked to get those honestly, not in sport and I'd be glad to help such lovely women. Where is your car?"

She pointed to a Range Rover outside the front door and handed me the keys. I looked at the young woman and said, "Are you going to bake some more cookies?"

I grabbed the five bags and put them on a roller cart and brought them in and them back to the silent one and asked her if they could handle this to their room and I walked back to the vending machine and bought some milk and some peanuts and waited on the cookies.

The obnoxious bitch, such a shame with that body, turned and asked me what I did for a living. I stared at her and said, "That is none of your business."

Undaunted she asked, "Well we have a farm, my wife and I need a foreman to build it back into shape."

"I am not a day laborer."

She said, "Muscles the honest way?"

"I have a net worth in excess of $1,000,000 and I get by."

"Recently divorced? The pale band on your finger."

"Miss Marple, perhaps?"

I stood up and strode to where the manager stood and said, "Can I get a call when the cookies are ready?"

I turned and walked towards the elevator, but took the stairs.

I locked the door and went into the bathroom and took a shower for about five minutes, one minute warm and then four minutes cold, trying to make the erection go down.

I put my sweatpants on and I heard a knock on the door and walked out to answer it. The scent of chocolate chip cookies filled my room as I opened the door. It was the manager and there were a dozen cookies. "She said, I could not let my daughter come up here and try to rape you. Mrs. Kennedy-Rice writes mystery novels and she completely hates men. I apologize for the community."

I said, "Thank you very much, I have to get some sleep, dead tired. First day of separation after I found my wife had been a whore most of our marriage. Rough day."

"Hang in there it gets better. I was ten years along raising my daughter after we were abandoned and I found a nice stand up guy, who loves me and Jordan."

At eight thirty, I slid out of bed and put on the wife beater and went downstairs where there was a free breakfast. I got four English muffins split them and toasted them, grabbed four hard boiled eggs and four cartons of peanut butter and four of cream cheese.

I carefully returned to my room and smeared peanut butter and cream cheese on the bottom of the English muffins and sliced up two hard boiled eggs and made a sandwich.

The hamburgers and fries were microwaved until they were edible. Peanut butter and eggs were added to them and I gorged on them with milk and the mini drip coffee maker. I gorged myself and the combinations sounded weird, it reminded me of Indian Food. After a bit, I walked down to the office and rented the room for another night. I was suffering from early onset blues I think.

I turned on the Netflix CIA episodic thing and somewhere along I fell asleep and woke about eight in the evening. I ordered three large pizzas from Dominos, sausage, hamburger, spinach, extra cheese and onions. It was about three blocks away, got some more Root Beer.

Once it was there I watched this hilarious Netflix show Emily in Paris, Lily Collins the daughter of the rock star Phil Collins. I got through about four episodes, she fucks her besties husband, her little brother, her bosses husband and lover, then goes black. She was rocking hot, small girl. I fell asleep and woke up at six a.m. I took a shower and ate some cold pizza, which was a favorite and like a different food. I showered and put on my now dry clothes. Packed it all up and it was almost nine. I fired up the Trooper and drove over to an outlet mall that had a smart phone store and I bought two without a connectivity plan. There were things to do before I activated them.

I jumped back onto north bound I-5 for a minute then took the exit for Sedro Wooley and the North Cascades Highway and started rolling through farmland and hills and tall trees, Douglas Fir and Western Red Cedar, Sitka Spruce and some Hemlocks and big, tall Alder trees.

End They Say Bad Things Happen In Threes. Part one

Part two soon, America's Switzerland, Ben Disappears forever