A/N - Hello! Well, throwing my hat back in the ring regarding another story in this category. I do enjoy them, as I'm sure many men had those fantasies when they were younger about bedding a mature woman. Same for perhaps a younger woman wanting to enjoy the experience of a mature man.
I plan on writing two stories back to back, one of an older man / younger woman (this one), and then an older woman / younger man. They won't relate at all, but I'm interested to see what I can come up with.
Usual caveats. All editing and reviewing done the author. Spelling is usually spot on. Definitely the occasional typo. Grammar can be ropey at times but it's been a long time since I sat in a classroom. All mistakes owned up to by the author. Please remember I'm an amateur.
Comments and feedback appreciated as always.
*****
There was a squeal and then laughter before I heard a body hit the water. More laughter followed before I heard a shout. "Damn it, Damian. I told you not to do that!"
Ah, don't you just raising children. Well, they're adults now, but still my kids.
"Don't get your bikini bottoms in a twist, Katie. It was all in good fun."
That was my son, Damian. Twenty-one years old, a younger version of his old man in some ways, particularly regarding his appearance. His girlfriend was probably watching on, shaking her head, perhaps wondering why he was still torturing his younger sister. She was now eighteen and legally an adult, but was still daddy's little girl. Compared to my rather out-going son, she was a rather shy but adorable young woman. Unfortunately, she also looked a little like her mother...
I won't go into too many details of what happened, just that we'd met at university, dated for two years, graduated and found jobs, then married when she announced her pregnancy with our son. The birth of our son was followed three years later by the birth of our daughter, and the ex-wife told me in no uncertain terms that would be it. We had two children, one of each, and she wanted no more.
We were happily married for fifteen years until I returned home one evening to find my wife and a man I recognised, but couldn't for the life of me remember his name, sat at the dinner table. I already had an idea of what was happening, as I'd been suspicious for a few months that something was going on. Thankfully, she didn't insult me by insisting that we open our marriage or I accept sharing my wife. I mean, hearing that she wanted to leave me sucked, but by that point, at least I knew the truth and all she wanted was out of the marriage. I was so stunned I didn't even think about the end our marriage. That was over no matter what. My first question was...
"What about our children?" I had to ask.
"You can have sole custody of them, Scott. Brian doesn't particularly like children and we've agreed that they can stay with you full-time. I'll accept liberal visitation access."
I almost spat out the beer I'd been drinking. Most women would fight tooth and nail to get custody of the kids as some sort of retribution against their spouse. Yet there was my wife, holding hands with her lover, pretty much giving me full custody? I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, not for my marriage, but for the fact my kids were about to lose their mother.
"I hope you're not going to make any outrageous demands from our impending divorce," I stated.
"I don't want anything. Brian has more than enough money to support our lifestyle."
I snorted. So that's what this was about. We lived a comfortable middle-class life. Four-bedroom house. Two cars in the garage, both bought new. Children were being put through university. We could afford a holiday at least once a year. We could afford to replace the big things around the house every few years. Slowly improved the house and its surroundings over the years. Apparently, that wasn't enough.
"I'll speak to my lawyer tomorrow, but if you want to marry him, you'll be waiting a minimum of a year," I said, "You have looked into divorce laws, right? This isn't the United States where you can push this sort of thing through in a few weeks. The court may even mandate some sort of mediation before they allow us to divorce."
"We've already discussed this, Scott. All we want to do is get this over as quickly as possible. We plan to marry as soon as I receive the Divorce Order."
"Okay, fair enough."
And, with those words, my wife walked out the door and my marriage was over. I was so stunned; I didn't even think of 'fighting' for her. I figured she'd either been cheating on me, so I'd have kicked her to the kerb anyway, or she thought that she was in 'love' with him, and she'd find out that the grass wasn't greener, and perhaps come crawling back. I had my pride. I would never accept her back.
Still, it was quite a shock to the system.
I was still sat at the table when my son walked inside after his afternoon training session for his weekend footy game. It took him to shake my shoulder, shouting 'Dad!' more than once before I blinked and looked at him. "You okay, Dad?" he asked, hearing the concern in his fifteen-year old voice.
"Yeah, fine," I replied without any tone, before clearing my throat, "Yeah, not too bad, Damian. But I guess I have something to tell you."
"I already know, Dad. Mum sent me and Katie a message about an hour ago, letting us know she's already talked to you." He paused before asking, "Thought you'd be angrier about it."
"I'll be honest, Damian, I'm still processing it. I'm honestly stunned as it's simply come out of nowhere. I won't say we were blissfully happy but I had no idea there was another guy."
"Neither did I, Dad. Sorry."
"Never you mind about that. Nothing to be sorry about. We'll figure it out."
I obviously took care of the business that needed to be handled over the next few days. In the six years since she walked out on her family, the children have seen their mother on Christmas Day, for about an hour at most, so she can give them presents and show her face in front of the families, and on their birthdays'. Apart from the occasional call, she's shown next to no interest in their lives.
As for myself, the betrayal made me suspicious of pretty much any woman in my life except those I already had trust in. My son dealt with the divorce as expected from a stoic young man. My daughter, always daddy's little girl, didn't particularly like her mother after the divorce.
But I digress...
Sighing, I rose to my feet and walked to the screen door, opening it up and stepping outside. It was a lovely spring day, barely a cloud in the sky. Being early November, the heat was starting to pick up. It wasn't a surprise that, being the weekend, my son, his girlfriend, a couple of their friends, with my daughter and her best friend, they were taking advantage of the hot weather and the pool I'd bought for the house well over a decade ago.
"Damian, you're twenty-one, for crying out loud. Stop teasing your sister."
"Oooh. Busted!" his best friend, Michael, exclaimed, giving his friend a gentle shove. There was plenty of laughter from the other friends around the pool.
"All I did was throw her in the pool, Dad. No big deal."
"I'd just put cream on, you bastard! And I told you I didn't want to get my hair wet yet." I noticed the lower lip tremble as my daughter looked at me. She was eighteen but, in many ways, still had some maturing to do. It was probably my fault. After the divorce, I had coddled her quite a bit and she had leaned on me for support for a long time after her mother moved out. As far as I knew, there hadn't been a single boyfriend in all her years growing up, not even those innocent schoolyard relationships.
"Your hair's fine," her best friend stated. Zara. They'd been best friends since kindergarten.
Sighing again, pinching the bridge of my nose, I looked at my son. "Look, just leave her alone, okay? You're both adults, but you're older and should be leading by example. Despite what she thinks, she looks up to you. You're older and should be the responsible one. Start acting like it."
My son looked embarrassed enough that he muttered an apology. Katie got out of the pool and walked over to where she'd laid her towel down on the lawn, picking it up to dry off, I assumed to reapply some cream. Zara also got out the pool, her eyes moving in my direction for a few seconds. As usual, she blushed and whispered, "Hello, Mister Taylor."
She was just as adorable as my daughter. Barely five-three, a petite little thing. Long brunette hair, gorgeous blue eyes, and a slim body with perky B-cup tits and a pert little butt. She had a great pair of legs for someone as short as she was. The bikini she wore covered up all the important bits. I was surprised she wore one considering how shy she sometimes was, though that was usually only around me. She pretty much ignored my son and his friends.
Heading back inside, I returned to the laptop that was in its usual place on the dining table. I hated working on a weekend, but at least I was home with the kids and not in the office. My son was still at home though in his final year at university. Once he had a full-time job, I expected him to move out rather quickly, knowing his girlfriend was in his ear about taking that next step.
Katie had recently finished her end of year exams and was now deciding on which university to attend. I knew, like her brother, she wanted to remain close to home. With her mother now pretty much out of the picture, not expecting for her to even call on Christmas now they were both eighteen, the only female influences she had were her two grandmothers and my sister. My ex-wife had a brother who I had kept at arm's length for over a decade, due to him just being an utter plank.
Hearing the screen door open, I lifted my eyes to see Zara walk inside. She smiled at me rather shyly as always, stopping next to me, her hair dripping water but the large towel was wrapped around her body, only her shoulders and arms visible. "Okay to get Katie and myself a drink, Mister Taylor?"
"Zara, two things. Firstly, you're such a regular guest here, I've told you more than once you can help yourself to anything except booze. Secondly, you're eighteen and now an adult. I think you can call me Scott."
"How about Mister T?"
"I pity the fool who calls me that." She returned a blank look, which only made me sigh again. Another sign I was getting older. "Never mind, I'd prefer Scott but if you need to keep calling by my surname. Anyway, you can help yourself, Zara. Unless you want something with a bit of a kick?"
"I'll ask Katie." She walked back to the door and opened it. "Katie, your father has offered to make us something better than just a soda."
Katie appeared through the door with a smile on her face. "Can we have something else, Daddy?" she asked.
"You're eighteen and now legal to drink, Katie. I'd rather you drink here in the safety of your own home, and the same thing for Zara."
