I've been retired for several years now, even though I'm barely 47. I was lucky, both in business and in the market. Like a lot of guys, one of the sacrifices I made (without realizing it at the time because I was so busy 'making a good life for us') was my marriage. From the start I'd told Mary that I didn't want kids. She agreed at the time, wholeheartedly. When we wed I was twenty five and she was twenty one.

About three years later she started talking about kids. But I held my ground. In fact, I had gotten a vasectomy and she was aware of it. When I mentioned that, she claimed that microsurgery could reverse it (for only $10,000!)I felt betrayed because she had agreed not to have children. The subject had caused quite a few arguments over the years but she eventually stopped talking about it. I was pretty sure she resented it though.

By my fortieth birthday we were living in a great area in a five bedroom home she had picked out and decorated to her taste. She seemed to appreciate and enjoy the rewards of my work. It made it possible for her to live a life of leisure: shopping, spas, lunches with her equally well off friends. I felt like a success and I thought we were content with our life. We still had sex several times a week, even then. And it was good sex, judging by my feelings and Mary's reactions. I guess you know what's coming don't you? Well, maybe...

Just before the Fourth of July one year I came home from a three day business trip to Chicago to an empty house – I mean empty. I learned from neighbors that Mary had hired movers to clean the place out. The only things left were my things and the appliances. Of course, other than the refrigerator where I found her note, she had no use for lowly appliances. We had help that did the cleaning and laundry anyway. She even took my favorite chair and the television.

The note explained that she had felt "unfulfilled" for years, racketa, racketa ... Our life had become a cliché. She advised me to have my attorney contact her attorney and not to attempt any direct communication. She didn't say where she was going or if she was going alone. It wasn't even signed. I'd come to mean that little to her. I was stunned, to say the least. Her lawyer's card was under the magnet with the note.

In the end, I settled with her and avoided paying spousal support. It cost me a bundle, but I was left with more than enough. So was she.

Anyway, all that is prologue. The meat of this story starts two years later when I met Wendy. I'd been so badly burned by my marriage I'd shied away from serious relationships. I had female friends and 'fuck buddies', but I always broke things off when things started to drift toward exclusivity. I missed bareback sex, but I traded that pleasure for staying healthy.

Wendy was the cousin of the wife of my friend, Brad. I went to a barbecue at Brad's and he introduced us. She had been widowed, remarried and then, like me, was divorced. Unlike me, however, she had kids: a stepdaughter of twenty nine (the daughter of her first husband) and a son just turned twenty one. They were both out on their own, and in other parts of the country, so it didn't matter much to me. Wendy worked as an assistant to a local legislator on the state level.

For some reason, being around Wendy (she called me to go for a drink the next week after the barbecue and we started dating each other exclusively in spite of myself) hit my heart like a sledge hammer. When I was with her I felt light-headed and giddy. Yeah, yeah, I know. You don't have to make fun. By the time I realized I was falling in love, it was too late. The feeling was so much more profound than I'd ever had, even with Mary, it was amazing.

Brad didn't know what I was worth (even after Mary had taken a chunk of it with her), since my accountant and I were the only ones who knew that. Brad knew I was fairly well off because of our friendship and my lifestyle, but had no clue to the reality. So I was pretty sure that Wendy wasn't after my money. From the way she dressed and spoke – of overseas vacations and other things -- it seemed she had some bucks of her own anyway.

She was a tiger in bed and was eager to try new things. She was multi-orgasmic – as are most women -- and she let the whole world know it when she came. Her husband, she'd said, had been a 'once a week man' who climbed on did his business and climbed off. "I went a bit wild after we divorced," she confessed to me. "I had a stable of stupid studs who were only interested in my pussy. Of course, that was fine with me, since all I wanted was their dicks." Oh, that was another thing, Wendy was plain spoken. In bed or out, she called a spade a spade. Sailors could have taken lessons from her.

Anyway, after we'd been seeing each other regularly for half a year, she consented to marry me when I asked. At our wedding I met Denise and Tom, Wendy's kids. They seemed accepting of me, a fact that was confirmed when Tom took me aside to say he was relieved his mother had finally settled down again. I got the impression his mother's divorcee behavior embarrassed him. Tom was – and still is – an architect in San Francisco. He was unmarried at the time. Denise was married and a junior partner in an advertising firm in Chicago.

Denise, though not Wendy's biological daughter, behaved as if she was. By that I mean her gestures, expressions, and bearing (and swearing) were echoes of Wendy's. Nurture won out over nature in her case I guess, since Wendy had raised her from the age of five. Physically Denise resembled Wendy not at all. Where Wendy had dark hair and olive complexion, Denise was fair and blonde. Where Wendy was pleasantly plump, Denise was only a little bit broad from hips to knee. Otherwise she was slender with small breasts.

Actually, Denise's magnificent ass and her strong thighs were attractive to me. I guess she had what used to be called (in a complimentary sense) a 'pear shaped' figure. Narrow from shoulder to waist, then widening where her torso met her hips. Where her hips met her thighs there was a slight, inward angular break that I have always admired in a woman. At the reception my eyes kept scanning the crowd in the hope of catching her facing away from me so I could gaze at that ass. Oh, don't get me wrong, I paid mucho attention to my bride and she wasn't neglected. But even when Wendy and I danced, I would rotate us around to try and find my new stepdaughter.

Okay, so you get the idea by now. This has to be a story about something happening between Denise and me. You're right. Just after our third anniversary, two things happened almost simultaneously. The first was that Denise caught her husband in bed with his friend and bisexual racquetball buddy. She told me later that she might not have minded if he had asked her to invite Jonas into their bed, but as it was, it was as bad as catching him cheating with another woman. "Hell, it probably would have turned me on to watch them suck each other's cock, as long as I got in on it too," was how she put it.

The second thing that happened to change things was that her boss got caught in a securities fraud case. The Feds brought him up on charges and she was suddenly out of a job when they seized the assets and locked the doors. Denise was cleared of any malfeasance. Wendy told her to come and stay with us until she found something else. Denise gladly accepted and sold her Chicago condo.

Naturally, I went with Wendy to pick Denise up at the airport in Phoenix. It was December and Denise was dressed for Chicago. The first thing she did was to drag Wendy into a restroom to change clothes for the 75 degree weather while I went to claim her bags. "I tied a purple ribbon to each handle, Frank," she told me, handing me her ticket folder. Even though the thought crossed my mind that I'd rather watch her change, I went down to baggage claim.

I'd pulled two of the three bags off the carousel by the time they joined me. For us locals, it was winter. Most folks wore long pants, but Denise had changed to shorts and a tank top (sans bra, I noticed). We got the last bag and eventually reached home. Though we'd seen her a few times since the wedding, this was the first time Denise had visited our new house. We lived in Apache Junction, away from the city, and on a rare three acre piece of expensive real estate. Wendy and I had hired an architect to build our home to order and it was perfect. Surrounded by our property and a selection of trees and bushes, the house was a very private place. We had a fence around the whole place and a stone wall around our home and yards.

Of course we had a pool. When Denise arrived, however, she was disappointed to find it empty. We did maintain an eight person spa over the winter, however. Wendy and I never wore suits when we used it, but I told her I'd deign to put on the trunks I usually wore when we had company (some friends weren't concerned with nudity and we had nude parties too). "Bullshit!" she said. "She's family! We're more comfortable naked, so she can either get used to it or stay in her room."

"Well, you do realize how attractive she is, don't you?" I asked. "What if I pop a hard on when we're in the tub?"

"I don't care," Wendy chuckled. "At least she'll see what a real man looks like after being married to that wimp she divorced."

"Hmm..." I said. I was more worried about what it might lead to, other than being seen naked by Denise. I wasn't sure I could control myself.

My worries were for nothing the first two weeks Denise was there. The weather turned cool the day after she arrived – too cool to use the tub, at least for me. Denise spent a few evenings in it (in her bikini) after spending her days pounding the pavement looking for work. She had a degree in business management – the hot ticket of the eighties and nineties of the last century. So she wasn't keen about taking something not equal to her abilities and education.

After three weeks, the weather broke and warmed up. Denise also found a position (as opposed to a 'job') as the manager of one of the employment agencies at which she'd originally thrown her resume into the ring to find herself a job. By then I was considering retirement and had been taking more and more time off. I was lying and lightly dozing in our hot tub one afternoon with Wendy at my side when Denise exploded from the French doors. "I got it!" she crowed excitedly, hurrying to the edge of the tub surround. "I got the perfect job!" She explained the situation while the jets bubbled the water around us. Since the water was agitated, she wasn't aware we were both naked. Then she noticed the absence of straps on Wendy's shoulders and brief peeks at a nipple.

Wendy gave me a funny smile and reached for the button to turn off the bubbles. When the water calmed, Denise's eyes went down to peer into the water. I wasn't hard, but that didn't matter. I was naked and it was the first time my stepdaughter had seen me in that state. Soft, my dick is between 'really little' (if I'm cold) and about a normal four and a half inches long. The diameter in a soft state is probably just over an inch (I say probably because I've never measured ... soft). Since the water was hot I was at my most relaxed. When her eyes lingered, that state began to change, so I reached across in front of Wendy's tits to push the bubble button again. I was once again hidden from sight.

"Why don't you jump in the shower and join us, honey?" Wendy said.

"Um. Ok--aaay ... Just let me get out of these sweaty clothes." She hurried back into the house.

Wendy's hand found my still-expanding dick as I watched Denise's incredible ass retreat into the house. "Hmm," Wendy said. "Methinks I've found a large – and growing -- worm in our tub."

"Well, crap honey! What do you expect? In a few minutes I'm going to be in hot water with two naked women. After letting her know we're naked, do you think she's gonna wear a suit?"

"I hope not. It's high time she realizes what we're really like." What she really meant was that, even when we weren't in the spa, we mostly went around the house naked. Since Denise had been there we both – not just me – had been more discreet. It wasn't comfortable after we'd gotten used to being bare. And this was in winter. When summer rolled around, I'd wear nothing, whether it bothered Denise or not if she still lived with us by then.

"As long as you're sure," I said, adding, "But you realize I'm likely to get hard sometimes. What if she ... tries something?" Wendy looked into my eyes and didn't say anything for a long time.

Finally, a smile spread over her face. "Frank, I know you love me. You've proved it hundreds of times in a hundred different ways." She looked away and took a deep breath. "If Denise, at thirty two, wants what a fifty-something guy like you has to offer ... well, as long as I don't get kicked to the curb – or miss getting what I need – I'd guess I wouldn't mind. As long as it is only Denise!" She looked back at me and laughed. "I just wouldn't hold my breath. You're good honey, but I doubt you could keep up with a young chick like her anyway."

I was floored. Living in Arizona, we had friends who were into the swinging lifestyle. We'd discussed it a few times when we had been invited to parties, but had – so far – declined. Our relationship was solid, but we knew just as well that a lot of those swinging friends were only clinging to the remnants of their marriages – and a few had dropped off the edge – after going that way. We'd agreed that we didn't really need to become sexual surrogates for emotionally rocky people. But Wendy was saying Denise was fair game for me if she wanted to get laid.

Whatever I was about to say dried up in my throat as Denise emerged from the house again. She was wrapped in a towel, but there was no sign of straps over her shoulders either. My cock began to rise again. When she reached the side of the tub, I could see that her cheeks (the upper ones) were rosy – rosier than the day's sun could have produced, even if she'd been laying out in it, which she hadn't. She was nervous. I reached for my glass and poured it full of the Cabernet Wendy and I had been drinking. I handed it to Denise with what I hoped was a loving smile. She took it, downed it, handed it back to me, and whipped off the towel.

Even now I can remember how my breath caught in my throat in that second. Denise was magnificent – all over. Her small breasts sat high and proud on her chest. Her belly tapered smoothly to a narrow waist – narrower than I'd seen for years. Then her hips – those wide, 'baby-making' hips flared out to her leg joints where that break at the joint I mentioned above took place. Then her thighs tapered again down to below the side of the spa. Another detail I'd never noticed about Denise was that little 'thigh gap' some women have, even when dressed, right where her thighs met her crotch. It's become the subject of internet discussions now, but nobody seemed to talk about it back then.