The Clueless Husband And The Balcony
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Sarah knew she was lucky to have a husband who made so much money that she could stay at home and didn’t need to work, but sometimes she got bored. There were only so many lunches with the ladies of the rotary club one can attend. Also, her husband Stephen worked so hard that he frequently was too tired to have sex. So there she was, a bored and horny housewife, a combustible combination. It was a warm day in late September when northern California got it’s annual heatwave. Sarah used to call this time of year an “Indian Summer” but she knew that didn’t sound right in the politically correct Bay Area, so she tried not to use that phrase. But it was hot so she put on her bikini and was going to head out into the backyard to read a romance novel in the shade when she realized that the landscapers were there working. She looked down at her tiny swimsuit which didn’t leave much to the imagination and then out at the short, stocky latino men, brown skinned and sweating in the sun while they pulled weeds in her flower beds and mowed the lawn. It didn’t really seem proper to go parading half-naked in front of the workmen like this, thought Sarah as she hesitated. Samuel would definitely throw a fit if he caught her doing that. He could be so jealous sometimes. But then again, he wasn’t due home for hours yet, and Sarah rather liked the idea of giving these little Mexican landscapers a bit of a thrill. After all, someone ought to appreciate her sexy figure if her husband was going to be too exhausted to pay attention to her. So Sarah put on a wicked grin and nonchalantly strolled in her skimpy bikini right out the sliding glass doors and into the back yard past the workman Her boobs were bouncing and her ass cheeks were half hanging out, so she tried to hitch up her top and pull her bikini bottom down to better cover her rear as she walked barefoot and self-conscious across the cool green grass. She felt her cheeks blushing as all work ceased and all the dark brown eyes of the lawn gang were fixed İstanbul Escort on her swaying figure.“Caramba! Mamacita!” exclaimed one fellow in amazement, dropping his hoe as he weeded the flower bed. “Calmate, pinche cabron,” hissed another fellow working by his side. Sarah giggled in response. Her Spanish was rusty, but she knew that the second fellow had said a bad word. “¡Hola! Ser educado en torno a una dama,” she said to the one that swore. She was telling him to be polite around a lady and he took his hat off in apology and looked up at her, interested that she could speak his language. “Lo siento, señorita. Lo siento,” he said, apologizing profusely. “Señora, Estoy casado,” she replied with a smile, letting him know she was married. “Eso está muy mal,” he teased, suggesting that he wished she were single. Sarah was a few inches taller than little landscaper and as they contemplated each other, she was struck by the differences between them. She was tall, thin, and pale, and he was short, dark, and thickly muscled. He reminded her of a Mexican meatball, and he had that twinkle in his eye that some latino men had when they fancied themselves a lady’s man. She didn’t normally go for ethnic types. She had only ever dated white guys but she found this little fellow to be charming. He had an infectious smile. They conversed for a few minutes in Spanish while the other guys went reluctantly back to work, gazing over enviously now and then as their pal chatted up the sexy mistress of the house. Sarah found out that the man’s name was Oscar and that he was from El Salvador, not Mexico. She told him that he must be tired from all this hard work, but he just waved dismissively and told her that his family had a farm back home and that was real work, this was nothing. He told her about their goats and pigs, and plowing the fields with a donkey, and bragged that farm work had made him big and strong. He pulled up his shirt sleeve and made a muscle, inviting Sarah to İstanbul Escort Bayan feel it. She laughed and obliged him, and she had to admit he did have quite a rock hard bicep. She noticed that Oscar kept looking at her body as they talked and, after she squeezed his muscled arm, he put his hand in his pocket hastily. She could swear he was trying to keep a hard on under control so that it wouldn’t show and she decided to tease him a bit. “Don’t you like my bikini, Oscar?” she asked him in Spanish, cocking a hip at him flirtatiously. “Oh, yes, you look beautiful,” he gushed, sweat beading on his brow as his hand rustled vigorously in his pocket. “What have you got in your pocket, Oscar?” she asked innocently, still in Spanish. “Is it something for me?” He blanched when she said it, and she thought that she had gone a bit too far, but then she realized that Oscar was gazing over her shoulder at the house. Sarah turned in time to see her husband Stephen storming out through the back sliding glass door, his face dark with rage. “For Chrissake, Sarah, what the hell do you think you are doing?” he shouted. “I uh, was just talking to Oscar here. Did you know his family has a farm in El Salvador?” stammered Sarah in shock. Oscar ducked his head and hastily dropped to his knees and frantically started pulling weeds.“That’s fucking marvelous, I am so goddamned fascinated to hear that,” bellowed Stephen. He was still wearing his suit from work and was standing over the little workman in his dirty t-shirt and jeans. Stephen towered about the landscaper both physically and in terms of status. “Don’t shout, Stephen, you are scaring him,” scolded Sarah. “Don’t shout?” he sputtered in indignation. “Look at yourself Sarah, half naked, fraternizing with the help. What are you thinking?” “It’s a nice day out, I just wanted to get some sun,” she said defensively. She self-consciously covered her crotch with her romance novel.Stephen looked at his shrinking wife before Escort İstanbul him and his anger cooled somewhat and hardened into a steely resolve. “Alright dear, alright, but these little Mexicans are being paid to work, not to ogle my wife,” snapped Stephen. “You, Jose, get up, come with me, we are going to go have a little chat with your boss.” “Now Stephen, don’t be rash,” said Sarah, looking at her husband in fear. “Sarah, you are soft. You are a woman. But these workers need a firm hand. I’m not paying them to slack off and hit on my beautiful wife,” said Stephen, and he gave Sarah a hard peck on the cheek which she wiped off as he turned away from her. “Come on, get up, Don Juan,” demanded Stephen, gesturing to Oscar impatiently. “ Qué quieres ?” asked Oscar, looking from Stephen to Sarah with a worried expression. “He doesn’t speak English, Stephen,” sighed Sarah. “Él quiere ir con él,” she explained to Oscar sadly. Stephen gave his wife a strange look when she spoke Spanish to Oscar but noticed that the landscaper was complying. Oscar stood up and brushed the dirt from his jeans and dutifully followed Stephen into the house. Sarah trailed behind, wringing her hands anxiously. She felt terrible about getting Oscar in trouble with her frivolous flirtation and she hoped she could intercede on his behalf. Stephen ran through the living room and yanked open the front door, shouting for the supervisor, Manuel. Manuel was a big fat man in his fifties with graying hair and the face of a gorilla. He took his time coming into the house. “What’s the matter, boss, what’s the matter?” he asked impatiently. “We have three more jobs to do today. I’m trying to get done here so we can move on.” Manuel saw Oscar standing on the plush carpet and gave a start, then he saw Sarah standing there in her bikini and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. “ ¿ Que pasó?, Oscar, ¿ que pasó?” “Nada , lo juro,” insisted Oscar, holding up his hands defensively. “Can we speak English here, please?” demanded Stephen, straightening his tie and running his hand through his thick dark hair. “I caught your man here slacking off and chatting with my wife. I pay your men to work, not to flirt with my woman.” Manuel looked Sarah up and down lecherously and it made her skin crawl. She wished she had a robe to throw on.
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