The Stowaway's Keeper
Copyright© 2024 by HppyHrryHrdn
Chapter 46: SS
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 46: SS - In the 80's, John was looking to go some place no one would know him. He was not planning on starting his new life with a 14 year old girl. She and her friends keep his life anything but mundane, despite his best intentions to keep it that way at his new home. Codes will change as story progresses.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Ma/ft mt/Fa ft/ft Fa/ft Teenagers Coercion Consensual Drunk/Drugged Reluctant Fiction Incest Brother Sister Humiliation Spanking Anal Sex Analingus Double Penetration Slow
I wasn’t surprised as Cheryl ended up sleeping in my lap after only picking at her food. She seemed to be thinking about something, but anytime I asked, she said it was nothing important. What seemed important to her was getting comfortable enough to fall asleep while curled into me.
For the rest of the time Helen was gone, Cheryl seemed a bit more intense about everything. She even wanted me to go running with her in the morning. I asked her why she was suddenly interested in cross-country running. She only said, “I’m worried I’m getting fat.”
Halfway through our second morning run, I inquired, “This run doesn’t have anything to do with what those two cheerleaders said in the dinner, does it?”
She was huffing a lot harder than I was when she answered, “Not totally.”
I figured she was conserving oxygen with such a short answer. But if she really wanted to make the workout harder, talking while running would do that. So I said, “What do you mean, not totally?”
Not looking at me but watching the trail, hopping over logs and bounding off rocks, she huffed, “Well, I think I saw a roll in my belly the other day. And I noticed I get winded when you have me out working in the sun. Or when Helen ... Oh, never mind.”
I knew I could embarrass her to her core. “So Helen can outdo you when you two are engaging in energetic sex.”
“Nooo!” she continued to strain to answer. “I always outlast her.” She realized what she said but had but a flash of embarrassment. Even then she knew better than to lie about her sex life with Helen.
“TMI, dear,” I informed her. “And I don’t think you need to worry about rolls.” I patted her flat, taut, and bare midriff as I sped up, leaving her in the dust. She did exactly what I expected. She caught up and passed me, pushing herself.
She looked back at me, “Hey old man, if you catch me before we get home, I’ll do the dishes and laundry and clean your bathroom for a month.”
I didn’t go any faster, letting her get a couple more steps away, “And if I lose? Not that I’ll lose,” I boasted. But I wanted to hear what she wanted before I made up my mind about whether I would try to win.
“I get thirty days of sleeping in your bed,” she stated, leaving it way too open to her ending up there naked and giving me another blowjob or worse. Though I wondered at times if ending up between her legs was worse.
“Fully dressed and nothing resembling sex,” I countered, staying back, giving her the idea she could win.
“With you?” she asked.
“Of course,” I replied, catching up one step.
“And I can give a day away to someone else if I want,” she said, going a little faster.
“As long as it is not a guy or a crazy person, you have a deal,” I said, picking up my pace.
“You are so going to lose,” Cheryl panted as she hopped over a log, her ass jiggling nicely in her short running shorts.
“In your dreams. Which you will be having in your own bed,” I taunted Cheryl, catching up to her in little time.
I let her stay in front of me, enjoying watching her butt cheeks as they went up and down. But still, I got close enough to pinch her butt while we dodged rocks and gullies. “Ready to lose?’ I expelled with a panted breath.
“Oh, you’re the one going to lose,” she tried as a taunt. But the lack of air made her comebacks weak. But running next to her, I thought about what letting her win would mean. I would have to listen to her boasts anytime she ended up in bed with me. But her nubile body would end up in the bed with me. And being dressed would make it somewhat easier. I would have to take off her clothes to screw her. It would likely add the time I needed to come to my senses.
I didn’t let her know, but I kept her close. As we entered the last 100 yards, my decision was made. I slowed just enough to have Cheryl catch and pass me. In the end, she got to the porch one step before me. Her celebration started before she had even caught her breath. She strained against the lack of oxygen in her body, but her jubilation made up for it. She bounced up and down ecstatically chanting, “I win ... I win ... I win.”
“Yes ... yes, you did,” I said, being gracious, not letting her know I had thrown the race.
She had to give in to her body’s demand. She bent down, putting her hands on her knees. Her ass was sticking out as she huffed, taking in as much air as her lungs would hold. I put my hand on her shoulder, asking, “Are you going to be OK?”
Still looking at the floor, she gasped out, “I’ll be fine. But if not, a night sleeping in a big bed with you will help.”
“So you are planning on using one of your limited passes,” I asked, knowing the answer. With Helen gone for multiple days, Cheryl was likely looking to snuggle up to someone, even after her blowing me earlier in the week.
Still huffing, she said, “Maybe we do this again tomorrow for more nights?”
“You aren’t suggesting double or nothing? If you are, I could do it now,” I suggested, playfully slapping her butt.
“Ow...” She cried out, standing upright. Her hands went to her hips as her tits stuck out with each desperate attempt to fill her lungs with air. She boasted, “I would, but I don’t think you could handle me sleeping with you that much. You would get all attached and want me there every night. And we can’t have that, so I’ll stick with what I have for now.”
Playing along I said, “Yeah we can’t have that. But what if all that happens after the first time? We would have to skip the others immediately so it doesn’t become irreversible.”
Cheryl laughed and ambled off the porch, going into the house. “I need a shower.” I was surprised she stopped there. Evidently, my scare tactic with her and Helen had worked better than I expected. She hadn’t even asked if I wanted to join her.
“You do know we have work to do out here. You’re going to get sweaty again,” I let her know. “More firewood and yard work.”
From inside she whined loudly, “Firewood. How much firewood do we need?”
I followed her into the house to get some water. “Depends on how cold you want to get.”
“What do you mean, How cold?” she asked.
“Well, if you want to be warm all winter, more than likely five thousand pieces of firewood. If you don’t mind being a little chilly, it would be around forty-five hundred. And if you don’t mind wearing two pairs of long underwear every moment you’re at home, we can get away with as few as four thousand pieces. And you are welcome to count the ones we have stacked,” I answered.
“Fine, I’m going to get changed into work clothes,” she stated. She started to strip off her top before she was in her room. It took no time to remove the sweaty t-shirt. She didn’t stop there with her back exposed, with a white strap across it. She bent over as she walked and stepped out of her running shorts simultaneously. Her sweat-dampened panties hugged her round ass cheeks.
It was a view that would have made a dead man hard. The thin material pulled out of the crack of her ass as she bent further to pick up her discarded shorts. She stopped and turned back to me. Her nipples poke out of the center of each of the white cups. But it was the thin covering molded to the coin slot between her thighs that drew my attention. I did my best to avert my eyes away, but Cheryl saw exactly where I was trying not to look. She blushed a little; still, she didn’t change her stance and asked, “So six thousand and we can go naked all winter?” She grinned. “Do I need long pants today?”
“Yes, you get to do some weed eating before we split and stack some firewood. If you get all that done with a minimum of complaining, we can go shooting.” I said to a scowl at mentioning Cheryl’s complaining.
She replied in a smart-ass way, “Hey, as long as it doesn’t involve pulling weeds. And maybe I can get more nights in a shooting contest.” I guess she was more confident in her shooting skills than her legs outrunning me a second time.
“We’ll discuss it if and when we get there,” I said. “For now, go get ready to do some work. Helen will be home soon, and you’re probably going to be good for nothing work-wise for a couple of days.”
She turned and shook her ass with its sweat-glued-on panties at me. “Definitely, but good for other things.”
I wasn’t going to fall into that trap. “Go get ready to work.”
Cheryl did as told and came out ready to work. She said she didn’t complain most of the time. She groused to herself when told to go and get the extra-long extension cord for the weed-eater, knowing it meant she would have to go a good way down the driveway. Only the stacking of the wood I chopped into the trailer caused her to complain. When her arms, legs, and t-shirt-molded stomach shook from exhaustion, did I say, “OK, now we can do a little target practice.” I was sure she was in no condition to shoot straight, so I added. “How about we bet on who can hit the target more? Double or nothing on our previous bet.”
Cheryl held up her hand and saw it shaking just from the exertion of raising it. “I’m going to be lucky to hit the broad side of a barn. So no way am I doing that.”
I figured it was a teaching moment. “In the military, I had to be able to shoot accurately even when lifting the rifle was difficult. So practicing when like that is necessary. It can keep you alive.” Cheryl looked at me like I was a bit crazy, thinking she would need to be able to shoot straight to stay alive after running herself to exhaustion. So I further explained. “It is a mental toughness thing. Force your mind to pull the utter last bit of reserves in your body to have it do what you want it to do.”
I handed her an unloaded snub-nose .38 revolver and said, “Shoot that tree over there. See how many times you can hit it.”
Cheryl took the gun and shakily got into a shooter’s stance. She pointed at the tree and, as I had shown her, gently pulled on the trigger. The hammer came back and snapped down on an empty chamber. Cheryl looked confused. I said as a teaching moment, “You didn’t check the gun for bullets. Don’t assume there are bullets in the gun just as you don’t assume there aren’t. Always check bullets and safety. You never looked at it either. And by the way, from the weight of the revolver, you should have known it was empty but checked anyway.”
“OK,” she said, taking in what I said. She held out her hand. “May I have the bullets to put in it?”
“Sure, is the safety set?” I asked, extending some hollow point rounds to her.
She turned the gun and replied, “Yes.”
“Again, you need to know your firearm. For that gun, you want it off when loading,” I instructed. Cheryl gave me her exasperated smile, unlocked the gun, and swung open the cylinder. Putting the bullets in the chambers, she closed it up.
She again got in her shooter’s stance. She still had a bit of a shake from all the work she had done earlier when she raised the gun. She was smart enough to ask, “What kind of recoil will this gun have with those rounds?”
“Right question,” I was proud of her and smiled. “That light of a gun with those rounds? Expect it to kick like a mule.”
“Great,” she said. I saw her arms tense up a bit more preparing for the recoil as she put her finger on the trigger. She squeezed the trigger, and though used to shooting, she didn’t seem quite ready for how loud the gun was. The recoil she handled nicely, but she missed the tree altogether. She slid the internal lock back on and held the gun to her side. “Damn, this thing is loud. And you’re right, it has a hell of a recoil.”
“Yes, now this time see if you can hit the tree,” I said, not wanting to heap praise on her until she actually hit the target.
Cheryl nodded, “Just watch. I’ll hit it more times than you can. But no bet.” She was cocky but not so much so as to lose her nights in my bed.
She shot the last five rounds, taking a break between each one, gathering her strength for the recoil. Bark flew off the tree for the third time as the last round was used. She set the lock and handed the gun to me. After which she put her finger in her ear and moved it around. “Damn, that thing is loud and hard to control.”
It was time to give her the praise she deserved, “You did everything right after the little bit of training. And you should know a gun like this is not meant for distance shooting. It is designed more for up close. So you don’t want to ever have to use a gun like this. But it is good to be well-versed, just in case.”
Her face beamed as she nodded, her understanding. I quickly refilled the chamber and took my turn shooting at the tree. I missed the first shot but hit the tree every other time. Cheryl said, “It’s not fair. You have shot that gun before. And if not that one, one like it. So I’m glad I didn’t bet.”
“Life isn’t fair,” I repeated my usual mantra. “And yes, I have used guns like this in the past.” I left off the fact it usually ended with whoever I was pointing it at ending up dead. But that had only been a few times; there were much cleaner ways of removing the people I was hired to remove.