The inevitable "empty nest" -- that phenomenon in which parents experience feelings of sadness and loss when the last child leaves home. Its timing is usually known in advance and can be prepared for; like marriage and fatherhood and other life changes, though, you really don't know what it will be like until it happens.
I imagined the empty nest period, beginning around 2012, to be one of renewal for my wife, Susan, and I. We'd be free of high school events and homework and relationships, and could refocus on our health, fun activities, and relationships with friends. And we could fire up our sex life and even take it to higher and deeper levels.
Susan saw it differently. She was sad and at a loss without the last of three kids around to engage with. For the first year after our final kid left, we had sex maybe three times. She sat in her recliner and watched football and NASCAR endlessly on Sundays, never changing from pajamas. Her drinking increased, as did her waistline. Her reply to anyone who asked was that she was 'waiting to be a grandma.' None of the kids were even married yet.
Over these next five years several things happened: deaths of parents, a move to another city. Employment issues and thus money issues. Arguments, ignoring. Counseling, and ultimately divorce. More deaths of elderly relatives and other family issues. The post-empty nest period had gone not at all as I imagined, and in the summer of 2017 I decided to make a move. I left work as a kind of sabbatical, researched and bought a fifth wheel recreational vehicle by Thanksgiving, and hit the road for a few years of solo travel the following February.
Right away I experienced hours alone while driving across the country. There were days when I wouldn't talk to anyone, sometimes nearly a week straight. Stimulation while driving ranged from classic rock satellite radio, Audible books, and simply silence. The time allowed me to sort out some of my skeletons, including anger from my recent divorce and a traumatic issue with one of my sons. I wasn't running away, per se, but I did need to get away and do some heavy thinking about how my life would progress.
I'd had a girlfriend right up to the point of buying the RV. She wasn't thrilled with my upcoming lifestyle and broke it off, although after hearing later about the places I'd gone to and the hikes, tours, and other activities, she was quite remiss in her decision.
You might think, as I thought, there would be exciting sexual activities on the road. Lonely waitresses, fellow travelers. Strippers in dingy clubs, hot pickups in bars. Adult theaters, glory holes. Always careful about my safety, those moments didn't happen. Instead, I jerked off to those situations that I saw from afar, fantasizing how they would transpire and typing some out for future Literotica submissions. It was a lonely but good life, and I knew I'd have a real relationship again soon enough.
Here's one of those situations -- real in structure, embellished for fun, and recalled many times for the memory and self-pleasure.
After six months of solo RV road life and a crossing of the Lower 48, I headed back to California for repairs and to visit family and friends. A few months earlier I'd been in contact with Robert, a former work friend also in his 50s, who invited me to accompany him and his wife, Jenny, and 12-year-old daughter, Bobbi, on a family vacation to Puerto Rico in July 2018.
I was thrilled to go, not just because of the location where I've never been, but because I'd be around Jenny every day for over a week -- I found her extraordinarily beautiful, youthful, sexy, and smart. Early 50s, brunette, athletic. Medium breasts, maybe size 34 or 36. Big eyes and a smile that went on for days. Robert, on the other hand, is overweight, smokes heavily, drinks nightly to drunkenness, and continues to have hip and knee problems. He tells me ahead of time that he's glad I'm going so I can help take care of the girls and ensure they have a good time. I tell him beforehand that he can count on me!
With my RV in-work at the dealer, we fly out of San Francisco and arrive in San Juan without incident. For the first half of the ten-day trip, we stay around our luxury hotel in the Condado area and walk to the nearby beach and shopping/bar areas to get acclimated and relax. Behind my dark sunglasses I watch Jenny in her cute tops and the sexy one-piece bathing suits she wears at the beach and at the hotel pools, especially with Robert often next to me staring at his phone or napping. She seems to notice me but politely keeps her distance and focuses on Bobbi, and outright ignores Robert. Based on my experience and the books I've read, they will have a difficult empty nest period if he doesn't wake up.
I take stock of myself: 54 years old, 6' tall, and a little heavy at 210 pounds but it's all in my belly and I can suck it in well. A full head of hair, with some salt mixing in with the pepper. Tanned from beach time on my travels and while not muscular, and well-toned from hiking and bike riding. And quite happy with my nearly 7" dick when hard, and how it looks in the snug shorts and jeans I like to wear.
After the first few days around the pool and checking out foreign men in their speedos and the looks they are getting, I realize the swimsuits I brought are long, loose, and boring. One morning before we get together as a group, I slip away alone to buy several new ones. Not speedos, as my tan lines are still at my quads, but definitely shorter and tighter. The looks are mutual now as I often catch Jenny staring at me and my crotch and ass, and I see her getting a little jealous as other women stare, too.
At night Jenny wears nice tops and makeup and perfume, and I notice that she takes it up a notch a little more each night. I've always loved her big eyes and long lashes and try not to get caught staring but can't help myself. I get away some of the days to go snorkeling and bike-riding and leave them alone for family time, then I can't wait to see her again later for our nightly dinner and drinks.
On the seventh day I rent a car and take the gang on an all-day drive to the El Yunque National Forest on the east side of the island. Jenny is dressed in a gray cotton t-shirt and black shorts, nothing too sexy, but still cute to watch as she runs around with Bobbi while Robert sits on benches and smokes. I sit with him for a moment before he tells me to go join the girls. I keep my distance, but my eyes are glued to her every move and smile.
Back at the hotel we do a Chinese sit-down dinner then head to our separate rooms for the night. I splurged on my room with its secluded balcony looking north out over the ocean, and its plush king bed. I often sit on the balcony and watch sunrises and sunsets, both improved by the hurricane that is glancing safely past the island that week.
My doorbell rings around 9pm. Expecting one of the female maids, or maybe the handsome male butler (hmmm...) I am surprised to see Jenny at the door, alone.
"Well, hello. Is everything OK?" Maybe Jaz or Bobbi got sick or something.
"Yes, all is good. I just need someone to talk to," Jenny replies. She seems nervous and is looking over her shoulder. Unsure of what's going on, I invite her in and guide her to the balcony where I am drinking red wine.
"Would you like a glass of wine?"
"Yes, please." She discretely glances around the room as she passes through and goes out onto the balcony and stands at the railing, looking into the darkness. The beach is not far and the waves crashing on the beach are audible. I know she is a light drinker and thus hand her a small three-ounce pour.
