Chapter 1

The day of my retirement came, in the end, and I have to admit I found it quite traumatic.

For forty years I’d had the same rhythm to my life: five days a week going to work, followed by the weekend, then the next five days at work, and so on and so on.

Now suddenly there was the weekend, and then nothing.

I’d read about the different ways retirement can affect people, but I hadn’t taken it too seriously. I suppose I was surprised it had arrived, even though it was so utterly predictable. Old age had crept up on me.

It was inevitable that I’d be sixty-five one day, but some part of me thought it would never happen to ME. Inside I still felt quite young. David Whitaker was not old, surely?

I’d been given a lovely retirement do at work, with lots of people saying how we must keep in touch, but I didn’t really think we would. My wife was the sociable one and I’d lost her a few years before. Our two sons had emigrated: one to Canada and one to Australia, so I saw them once a year at best. I’m not an easy mixer and I tend to keep myself to myself.

My house is my kingdom, set in a large plot and screened from the road and neighbours by trees I planted years ago. Generally I enjoy my own company and while I was working it was enough. I’m on friendly terms with my neighbours but I don’t see much of them – living on a busy road we mostly go out in our cars and so it’s a case of a friendly wave as we pass.

For a few weeks I slipped into depression. I’d become a lonely old man with no sense of purpose, and nothing seemed worthwhile. I hit the bottom though, and then gradually came back up out of it, bit by bit.

I got a dog, in fact two dogs, so I had company and creatures who needed me and returned my affection. They made a lot of difference.

I spent more time with my computer and joined some forums, and got a lot of support and encouragement. It’s amazing the difference it makes just knowing that others have the same problems as you. There was some good advice too, and the best advice of all was to start a project.

I’ve always liked water, right from when I was a little boy, and I like DIY, so eventually the project I settled on was to build a swimming pool.

I went through my finances with my retirement lump sum, and I found I had enough, if I did most of the work myself, to build a pool in its own building, attached to the house.

Well doing the work was part of the idea, so I set to.

Searching online for ideas I saw lots of houses with small pools in small rooms, looking pretty unattractive and useless, and I was determined to make mine different. It was going to be a place to relax, enjoy, spend quality time in, and the pool was going to be long enough to swim proper lengths.

There was going to be a lounging area with a hot tub and a TV. In fact I half expected to abandon my existing living room for the pool room.

So I did my own design with a glass front facing south over the garden, made up entirely of patio doors. I hired a digger and dug the pool and the wall foundations, bought the materials, and the filter, heat pumps, dehumidifier and everything. I learned to lay bricks, do the tiling, plumbing and electrics.

It took fifteen months, then I had a pool company come in to finish off and commission it.

Finally the great day came: it was done and the water was warm enough to swim in. I wore myself out doing lengths or messing about, seeing how long I could stay under water, throwing a coin in and diving for it, practising different strokes. I brought the dogs’ beds through and settled down on the vinyl-covered mats to watch some TV. It had all worked out.

Next evening I was lazing in the hot tub, watching TV, when the doorbell rang. I put on a robe and went to answer it. There were three children in the porch.

I only half recognised them, so I was glad that they introduced themselves as being the Mellors’ children from directly across the road. There were two girls and a boy, between perhaps fourteen and seventeen years old.

I missed their names – I’m hopeless like that – but they were very nice children, very polite, who’d come to invite me to a party at their house, that their parents were holding for people on our rather busy road to get to know each other better. I said yes, of course. By now the need for company had banished my bashfulness.

So the next Saturday I went over and had a very pleasant time, I must say. Paul and Amanda were very friendly and it was good to meet everyone. After an hour or so the children came in and I was, fortunately, reintroduced to them: Vicky, the oldest, Laetitia, and John.

I was slightly surprised, though not disappointed, that Laetitia didn’t immediately go off somewhere after the introduction but stayed to talk to me. To my relief I found I was actually doing a lot more listening than talking, because she was a very friendly extrovert person and talked easily and at length in response to any question.

She was very engaging, very pretty, with longish dark hair and hazel-brown eyes with a hint of green, a small turned-up nose and a wide mouth that was mostly smiling. She had a very mobile face, with her features all on the move as she talked, and she waved her hands about captivatingly to express herself. I found her magnetic.

Also I have to admit that part of my smile back at her was because I couldn’t stop myself thinking of a short version of her splendidly old-fashioned name: Titty.

Because her tits were very prominent. Not large, especially, but jutting. She was wearing a thin pullover that shaped itself over them as though moulded, and they formed two highly visible cones high on her chest that I had to make an effort not to stare at.

It had been many years since I’d been involved with a woman, but I’d never lost my interest in them. Laetitia was far, far too young for any serious interest, obviously - only sixteen perhaps - but she was very sexy, it was impossible to deny.

I was just trying to work out how aware she was of her breasts and the effect they were having on me, when Paul and Amanda came and joined us, as the party started to wind down. I’d been enjoying listening to Laetitia but I’d been starting to think it was time to go. However they seemed quite keen to keep chatting.

After some village gossip and chit-chat the conversation drifted round to the children, and how keen they were on sports and the various school teams they were all on, swimming among them. My antennae were just starting to twitch, since for one thing Laetitia didn’t seem to have the size or shoulders to be a competitive swimmer, when Paul brought up the subject of what I’d been doing.

“Gather you’ve been busy,” he said, “ all the deliveries and whatnot. And a pool builder’s sign I think we saw.” The pool company had taken the opportunity to advertise themselves with a sign on the verge at the end of my drive.

“Yes, I’ve been building a swimming pool,” I said, fighting off the urge to start boring them, like a lonely old fart, with all the details of the build, “in a pool room, you know. Just finished as a matter of fact.”

“Oh wow how amazing!” said Laetitia, “I bet it’s fantastic.”

As hints go, I supposed there have been worse. Certainly many with less appeal.

“You must come over sometime,” I tried not to sound too keen, “and have a look. Bring your things if you like.” I took in all of them with the invitation.

“We’d love to, thank you,” smiled Amanda, “one evening perhaps?”

After another minute of well-mannered negotiation I was going to see them all on the Thursday, Vicky and John too. Vicky in a swimming costume would be no hardship either, to be absolutely frank. Amanda looked in pretty good shape as well, come to think of it.

I was glad I’d put on a reasonable amount of muscle with my building activity, since my body had been pretty slack while I was a sedentary desk worker. Now, even though I had less muscle than I’d have had when I was younger, I was not in bad shape.

I swam a lot and practiced my tumble turns, and got a bit of sun in the garden, though it was a bit foolish how much I wanted to make a good impression. The Mellors had lived opposite me for about four years, after all, so common sense said they would come, be nice about my pool, and go back to their totally separate lives afterwards.

Anyway Thursday evening arrived and indeed they all came over. After the pleasantries they got changed and we all jumped into the pool. I made an effort to concentrate on Paul, to make sure I didn’t ogle the girls, which would have been all too easy. They were in one-piece suits at least, and Laetitia’s suit flattened her tits somewhat, so when after a while she came up to me in the shallow end I was just about able to stop my eyes wandering down.

“This is a lovely pool,” she smiled, “so luxurious, and so private. You must have all kinds of plans for it.”

Plans? I just planned to swim in it. I couldn’t think of a response. And I was distracted by her manner, and her closeness to me, which were both a bit intimate. It was a little inappropriate, especially with her family being a few yards away, at the other end of the pool. As so often my social skills failed me and I just smiled gormlessly at her, hoping she’d say something else, that I could respond to.

“It must be so great, being able to swim all the time,” she obliged me, “it must really improve your swimming.”

“Well yes, I think it will,” I smiled back, thinking she was quite a confident character.

“It’s so long,” she continued, “almost as long as the one at school, and you can just practice, turns and everything, without people getting in the way all the time.”

She’d moved so close to me I was starting to feel the warmth of her thigh, even through the water. I couldn’t help picturing the thigh, which I’d seen before she got in: it was beautifully shaped and very slightly big in relation to her upper half. There was quite a lot of muscle on it, extending more front-to-back than side-to-side, if you see what I mean, and at the top curving back in to a very firm-looking ass.

Her pelvis was a perfect match for it, curvy and feminine, narrowing deliciously into her waist. In her swimsuit it all made her shape incredibly arousing, with her tits, even a bit squashed as they were, just finishing it off.

She was looking steadily up at me. She was quite gorgeous, as though made especially for sex by some benevolent but slightly naughty god.

I suddenly knew that if her thigh touched me, by moving another half an inch, I’d have a hard-on. What a nightmare that would be, right in front of her parents! Suppose it wouldn’t go down before they all got out and I, as host, had to get out too?

“Well you must come over and practice, by all means Laetitia,” I blurted, trying to back away but finding I was jammed into the corner.

“Lettie,” she grinned naughtily at me, moving away just a little.

“Lettie,” I acknowledged.

“Thank you so much,” she said, “that would be lovely. Would Sunday afternoon be alright?”

I could only smile and nod.

Anyway we all swam for a bit longer, before everyone started getting out. We got dressed and had a cup of tea, and I managed to ask enough about the children’s end-of-year exams to find out that Lettie either was sixteen, or would be next term, with Vicki (with an I, definitely not with a Y Amanda said with a smile) two years ahead in school. Then Paul and Amanda stood up and started thanking me for having them over.