Susan From Susan
Chapter 2

Copyright© 2017 by harry lime

Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 2 - Prison life is boring enough to plot escape for the adventurous Dutch. He hooks up with Susan and Trixie and they are off to a new story in fabulous Las Vegas.

Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Mult   Consensual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Anal Sex   Oral Sex   Safe Sex   Big Breasts   Public Sex   Prostitution  

This is a belated continuation of the story of the escaped felon “Dutch” and the happy pair of hookers called “Susan” and “Trixie” from the quiet burg of Susan on the interstate highway. Good old Folsom prison seemed like a long way away but it was really just around the corner in highway patrol time and it seemed like a good idea to move the separated double-wide down to Vegas provided the transport company could accept some sexual favors in partial payment of the price tag of moving. I wasn’t in on the deal because I was on the run and besides I wasn’t pretty enough.

I had done both Susan and Trixie at the same time and did my best to make certain they both got equal treatment on the Dutch distribution plan of steady goodies. There was no doubt that Susan was the real McCoy in the looks department with her real double “D”s and all but Trixie had a real nice style of relaxing a fella when he needed a nice pair of legs wrapped around him in the horizontal when relaxation is the name of the game and not getting over on some sucker with a wallet filled with cash. I guess I was chief bottle-washer and part-time handyman of the outfit but it was important I stay out of sight because my picture was in every post office between here and Mexico like some bandito from olden times.

In all fairness, I was in Folsom on a trumped up charge and the judge was a female that sure held a grudge. I didn’t know she was a judge, when I bent her over the pool table for fun and games, but she was the one doing all the instigating and I was just being a gentleman about the whole thing if the truth be known.

My ex-wife Laverne was dealing blackjack down in Tahoe and was shacked up with the Casino owner’s boatman in the Cabana apartment next to the Lake. We were still really married but that was just a technicality because she still qualified for my disability from the VA. They sure as hell wouldn’t send it to me in prison and it was silly to just let it go to waste. My runaway daughter Heather was up in Portland with some fucking creative producer that looked like he had an awful lot of nice-looking girls going out on assignments that looked more like escort jobs than actual projects that required artistic talent. I would never have told her my feeling on the subject because I sensed she believed her own line of bull more than the casual observer with no skin in the game.

The doublewide got delivered without incident to the mostly empty park down Henderson way about halfway to the Hoover Dam. That was one fucking big hydro electrical power station that had created a lake that backed up halfway up the State with fishing and recreational industries up the ying-yang along with most of the water that was used by three different states. Needless to say, the electricity made the electric bills in Las Vegas real low all year around and that was why they had lights on twenty-four/seven that could be seen all the way up to the International Space Station. I had an ex-girlfriend in Henderson I hadn’t seen for more than a decade and I had a suspicion she was pregnant when we parted ways but she wasn’t giving me any news flashes and I wasn’t asking for any because we had what they call “irreconcilable differences”. At least in my spouse’s case it was strictly the sentence that terminated our relationship and we were still on pretty good terms.

The home was set up and I was allocated a rear bedroom with nocturnal duties to perform on cue when required and I was instructed by both parties to keep my mouth shut and not to bother their “visitors” when I was in the area and not to touch their money which they probably kept in their panty hose or in a box of feminine pads figuring I would touch them with a ten foot pole. I had some stuff stashed in a temperature controlled unit down on Flamingo with the rent paid for the full twenty year stretch. My lawyer had done that for me and I knew I could trust him because he owed me big time for me finding his daughter when she got hooked up with one of those cults up in Utah that sold the girls to the highest bidder as a spare “wife” when their primary ones got too old to do it any longer or they were just too ugly to help get their prick up. It was all done in the name of religion and most of the folks in authority were leery about stepping on toes.

Trixie gave me a consolation screw on a slow Sunday morning knowing I was unhappy about Susan giving me the cold shoulder because I was shit out of luck for ready cash to put a smile on her face. I was certain it was the sight and the smell of greenbacks that made Susan get energized for anything other than sleeping in.

With Trixie’s smell washed off me with a quick shower, I hit the trail for Flamingo using the handy dandy bus system that was slow as molasses on the weekend all things considered. The sidewalks down there in the “off the strip” area were empty looking like a scene from “The Walking Dead” after the holocaust. The people that ran the storage facility were unhappy to see a customer on a Sunday but they let me in because I knew my code and I had my lock combinations even though I had no identification to meet the standard requirements. My bullshit line about a lost wallet went over like a lead balloon but I could tell they didn’t really care as long as I had the code and my combos to get into the unit. Besides, I looked too much like trouble for them to get involved and besides the units was fully paid for in advance and they don’t usually get that kind of customer every day.

 
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