Every sexually active character in this story is over the age of eighteen.
This is the story of a divorcee. It builds slowly, so if you need a quick read for jilling or jacking then this is not that read. My goal is to tell the story of a divorcee, a woman who's been through tough times but perseveres and comes through the hurt with the help of her daughter and her daughter's college-aged friends. This will be a multi-part story.
I fervently hope you enjoy this story, and as always, I appreciate your feedback. I'm a new author, and right now I'm trying to "find my voice" as they say.
When my husband, daughter, and I moved to the suburbs, we knew our lives would change. We thought that change would be for the better, and at first, it was. We loved our house and the neighborhood. It was closer to Steve's work and the school system was rated as one of the best in the State. Kyleigh made quick friends, and it wasn't unusual for them to hang out on the weekends. The boys tended to ogle me, as boys will do when they're going through puberty. It's a time when they'll drool over anything with boobs. I didn't let it get to me, but I did try to dress conservatively when they were around. They were even more overt with their ogling when Stacy's mom was here. Stacy's mom did not dress conservatively, at all! One day I heard a couple of them talking, and one of them said, 'Man, Stacy's mom has got it going on!' I blushed and walked away, wondering if they talked like that about me. Stacy's mom is a long-legged frosted blonde. I'm not sure what her natural hair color is. She has man-made boobs, and a face sculpted by a surgeon. I hate to think what she's spent to look the way she does. Me? I'm all natural, from my auburn hair to my naturally curvy body.
Everything was perfect for the first three years after we moved, or so I thought until I returned home from a business trip one day early. I pulled into the driveway and pushed the button on my remote to open the overhead door. As the door opened, I noticed my husband's car was already there. It was midday, and I remember thinking,
Shouldn't he be at work?
On my way to our bedroom, I looked through the kitchen window and saw my husband sitting on the edge of the pool. I left my luggage in our bedroom and went back to the patio door. I was a little confused by my husband's presence in the middle of the workday but figured things must have been slow at the office. To surprise him, I opened the door quietly and slipped up behind him.
Then I saw it! A woman's head bobbing in his lap. It was Stacy's mom! While I stood there dumbfounded by the scene before me, I went numb. Then my anger began to build, along with a list of questions. How dare he? How long has the affair been going on? Is she the only one? Tears began rolling down my cheeks, spurred on by my anger.
I screamed.
It was a blood-curdling scream.
She jumped.
He jumped.
He scuttled away from her and grabbed his crotch, I noticed blood. When I startled them, she bit his cock. I figured he deserved it.
There was a lot of yelling and crying, followed by slamming doors and squealing tires. By the time it was all over, my husband and his whore left together, and I was alone in the house. When Kyleigh came home, I was still a blubbering mess. I kept asking myself why. Why did he do it? Wasn't I enough? Pretty enough? Sexy enough? I swung from fits of sobbing to moments of rage, and I'm ashamed to say that more than a few things in the house ended up broken. I didn't go to work for the next few days, and Kyleigh did her best to care for me, but what does a teenager know about the betrayal of infidelity? She helped me pack her dad's clothes into garbage bags and set them outside the garage. I messaged him to come get them when I wasn't home, then I called a locksmith. There was no way in hell I wanted him, or heaven forbid his whore, entering my home.
The next year was the worst of my life. I don't know how Kyleigh and I would have made it without the support of our neighborhood. When the divorce became final, I got the house and he got his fast car, the whore had dumped him shortly after the scene by the pool. I was good with that, but I had to get out of the house where my marriage fell apart. Kyleigh had been accepted into college on the West Coast, so I put the house up for sale and followed her. We found a house near her college, and I found a job. Life was beginning to be good again.
The house wasn't large, measuring just 1100 square feet. But it boasted a pool, a tall privacy fence, lush landscaping, and mature trees. I felt fortunate to be able to purchase it before it was listed, thanks to a wonderful Realtor. It was our little slice of heaven, located at 2003 Wayne Street in The Fountains development.
Once again, Kyleigh made new friends quickly, and our house soon became the weekend gathering place. She lived with me to save money, and her campus-dwelling friends enjoyed coming over to hang out and enjoy our pool. Having Kyleigh and her friends there was hardly an imposition. Like at our last house, we provided the space, pool, and grill, while her friends pitched in to bring the food and drink. Of course, their idea of food and my idea of food differed, so I always tried to make something healthy for their visits. After meeting some of the neighbors, I invited them to join us. Her friends were very respectful, and while alcohol was usually available, no one ever became drunk. The parties became a mix of college kids and adults. We held a birthday party once a month to celebrate everyone whose birthday fell during that month.
When the anniversary of my divorce came around, word spread. The next weekend turned into a divorce party with the works; cake, champagne, banners, and balloons. One of the wives told me that they had considered getting a stripper. As I was chatting with a group of the wives, thanking them for the help they had provided while Kyleigh and I dealt with the aftermath of my divorce and settled into our new place, one of them began to giggle.
"You don't know, do you?" she asked through the laughter.
A couple of the other wives tried to shush her.
"Know what?" I asked.
"About the protective order!"
"Protective order? What on earth are you talking about? Steve was never violent towards me. Besides, he's across the country."
"No, no. Kyleigh's friends came up with it," she said after taking a deep breath to rid herself of the giggles. "Protect Ms. Summers and Kyleigh at all costs."
"It's sweet, really," said another. "You've been so welcoming to all of them, and us! It's their way of thanking you. Haven't you noticed that they are always doing something here when they're here? They're not just hanging out with Kyleigh."
At first, I was shocked. Then I realized they were right. Since shortly after we moved in, the girls had been helping with my weekly meal prep, laundry, house cleaning, grocery shopping, and probably other things I hadn't noticed, all under the pretense of hanging out with Stacy. The boys had been cleaning the pool, mowing the lawn, Kyleigh for the landscaping, changing the oil in my car, and even doing minor repairs around the house. The were all so nonchalant about it that they escaped my notice.
I broke down and sobbed. "These kids are amazing, I can't believe they did this. Why didn't you tell me?"
"Dear, we didn't want you to stop them! Anyway, we backed them up. Any time something too big for them to handle came up, us neighbors stepped in to help," one of them said.
"Sweetie, it's the least we could do. You've been great to all of us since you moved in, and after what you've been through we couldn't stand by and watch you struggle. All of us want to see you back on your feet and loving life."
I shook my head. "I don't know what I'll do when they all graduate and leave to have lives of their own."
