AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is the eighth Convertible story. Thanks as always to my Muse RiverMaya for her sage advice, and to Verbalinians for his editing. As always, I keep revising right up to the last minute so any errors are mine alone.
β’This is an OW/YM story - All sexual activity in this story is between people 18 years and older.
β’If this story had a mood song, it would be Seal's 'Kiss From A Rose'.
++++++++++
"You boys can keep your virgins. Give me hot old women in high heels with asses that forgot to get old."
- Charles Bukowski
++++++++++
Part 1 - Squad Goals
Unbelievable. Married to my husband Bill, busted my ass to be a supportive wife and mother for 30 damned years, and all the thanks I got for it was the old bastard telling me was leaving me for a 31-year-old nurse named Brooke.
He'd met the tramp when he'd been hospitalized a couple of days for observation because of some heart rate abnormalities. He told me she was his night nurse and "sparks just flew'; I think that was bullshit-speak for him getting a midnight blowjob.
He swore it wasn't me, said I was a good woman, but he realized Brooke was his 'soul-mate'. I swear to God, if anybody ever uses that phrase around me ever again, I'll punch them in the mouth.
I understand women being attracted to my husband. Hell, even after being married all these years, him taking his shirt off still got my motor running.
A construction company supervisor, even at 52 with streaks of gray running through his black hair and neatly trimmed beard he was one handsome man. He didn't have six-pack abdominals anymore, but he exercised regularly. It was enough, believe me.
His 6'1" 230-pound body was plenty firm, and that hefty flesh pistol between his legs was more than adequate to satisfy me. For 30 years I'd happily spread my legs for him whenever he so much as wiggled his eyebrows at me, even when I was pregnant. I really enjoyed sex with Bill, but now Nurse Brooke shared my enthusiasm. Last time I checked, that's not how being married was supposed to work.
As for me, after 30 years and one baby, at 49 I thought was in good shape. I would have been happy to have more kids, but Bill was adamant that one was enough for us, so after Bella was born, I'd had my tubes tied.
I'm tall and relatively slim, 5'9", 140 pounds. (I'd recently had my long silver-white hair cut into a shoulder-length bob. Thanks to my family's DNA, my hair had prematurely turned white when I was 36, and I refused to dye it, I was who I was.)
My ass isn't as tight as it used to be but giving birth will do that to you. For many years before having my daughter, I was a women's barrel racer who competed at county and state rodeos, and still had the trophies to prove it, but gave it up for motherhood. I still occasionally rode horses on my uncle's ranch, so my legs are in fantastic shape, even if I do say so myself.
As much as I tried to keep myself up, Bill's surprise announcement made it painfully clear I was no longer good enough to meet his standards. Those 30 years of being a loving and faithful wife suddenly meant nothing. The 360 months I'd spent devoted to him, all gone in an instant; my beloved and adored husband had crumpled my heart like a 1986 Ford Taurus in an auto crusher.
My heart may have been devastated, but my brain worked just fine. I swallowed the pain, and the next day I was in a lawyer's office getting divorce papers drawn up. I was in a full fury. Bill had stolen three decades of my life, so I was going to make this hurt.
The divorce petition I was filing demanded 90% share of our joint possessions, only allowing him to keep his pension. I knew I wouldn't get everything I was demanding, but I wanted the satisfaction of pissing him off when his cheating ass was served.
I'd called my daughter Bella and told her what was happening. She was 26, not a child, and I gave it to her straight, no holding back. Her reaction left me numb. "Maybe Daddy got confused and made some bad decisions. Give him some time, I'm sure he'll come around and see what a huge mistake he's made."
Come around? It was too late for that the moment he'd stuck his big sausage into that slut's vagina. I'd been betrayed by my own daughter! She'd been my little angel until she turned 13, then something changed, and she had become a Daddy's girl. She was still my flesh and blood and I loved her, but not much right now.
I suspect it was because Bill had spoiled her rotten and was always putting money in her hand when she'd become a teen. The few fights we'd had in 30 years were mostly about him spoiling her. Now the fruit of my loins, the little bitch that I'd carried in me for 9 months and wiped her ass for more than 2 years had turned on me.
All those crazy adolescent years in high school when one boy or other had devastated her, it was always me who consoled her, hugged her, and baked her cookies to make her feel better. All of that was apparently forgotten. The little bitch was solidly in her father's camp. I hung up.
After speaking to my traitorous daughter, I called my younger sister, Marla Emerson. Growing up, we used to joke that we were half-sisters; I was the leg and ass half, and she was the tits half. I was tall with 32B boobs, Marla was shorter with 42D boobs. Contrary to my attitude about the family silver hair, she'd gone ahead and died her hair a deep blonde. If you didn't know we were sisters, you'd have a hard time believing it.
After hearing my tale of woe, she cracked, "Fuck Bill, that fucking fuck, I know just what you need, darlin', I'm going to gather up the girls and we're all going to the casino for a few nights."
My sister and her two friends loved going to the new Warrior Spirit Casino that had opened on the Osage reservation. It was modern and shiny, the slots and video poker machines paid out generously, and the entertainment that played there was top-notch. Before I knew it, Marla pulled up in front of the house with her 24-foot Winnebago motorhome, and we were off to the Casino.