"The bad decision", at least that's what Sami Turner normally called it afterwards, or, if she'd had a glass of wine or had been joking with Joe, her love, 'the disastrous decision' or the 'what the hell was I thinking of decision', in any event, it was certainly the turning point of her life.
"How bad is that," she'd often think to herself, with an inner caution to not question the wonderful way that things had turned out, to have such a 'turning point' when you're already approaching 35 years old.
But that's what it had been. It was, at that time, almost a kind of set up for Sami Car, jilted wife of that no good Jason Carr, who had just left, and had her served, from afar, who didn't even have the guts, the decency or the manners to say a face to face 'good bye'.
There had been certainly years, since college surely, of Jason complaining that Sami was so bland, so colorless, so lacking in any kind of willingness to try things. She had to admit that but what was at first only a matter of her growing and broadening her horizons, became later a matter of stubbornness prompted by his adolescent rants about her not being sexy enough, alluring enough, etc. She'd put up with that for years and for years her attitude had hardened, only hardened.
He'd started his campaign on her, his campaign to make her what he wanted with his underwear purchases. When she didn't respond the way that he'd wanted, the complaining began. She tried, at times, to please but it never seemed to be enough, so, it became their issue, and Sami purposely bought pretty underwear but the kind that Jason didn't like, calling them 'grannies'. She became stubborn too.
But then it all stopped, Jason was simply gone; she was abandoned, and in the middle of the relief of that was the knowledge that she somehow hadn't measured up, that maybe if she'd tried, instead of being stubborn, 'stupid and stubborn' she sometimes called it, when she was down on herself, maybe it would have been different.
It produced a kind of a mind set in Sami Carr that ate at her a bit but that she dealt with by patently ignoring, for the most part. She put it behind her, out of her mind and out of her consciousness. It was avoidance but it worked for a while. She had the house; Jason the complainer was gone and she had herself, and for a few years that was enough, as she tried to heal and get her head around what had happened with her life.
Then there was the bad decision. It was all about Ramon. Ramon, who knocked on the door and asked if she wanted her lawn done. She was in that kind of mood that day to say 'yes'. So, he did the lawn. But as she showed him where the mower was, out in the shed, she went into a crouch to clear things away to show him what tools she had. She realized, as she crouched, that her tee shirt was up and her white capri pants were lower on her hips than she'd realized. She was certainly showing Ramon a good two to three inches of pretty beige 'grannies'.
The thought struck her hard, and she got up almost immediately, when she realized it. But she wasn't ready for what she discovered then. The look in his eyes, and the smile on his face.
Sami was almost immediately swept away by the beauty of Ramon's eyes.
"This is what the poets mean," she thought to herself, "When they talk about limpid brown eyes!"
She found herself sinking into those eyes, and the only thing that came to her mind to do in the situation, after she'd gotten up and straightened out her tee shirt was to say a shy: "Sorry about that."
"No sorry, pretty lady, chica, lady..." he began, and his voice at least right then was like music.
"Sami!" she said to him, not really knowing why she gave him her first name.
"Pretty lady Sami!" he said with the, and then he said something in Spanish, which she didn't understand but was sure that he was referring to her display of panties.
By that time Sami chose to simply retreat. She went to the house, shamed, excited, and more turned on than she could ever remember. She didn't, simply didn't know what to do, so she did nothing.
But that was not true. She watched Ramon. She watched him, as he did the chores on the back lawn. He had unbuttoned his shirt and was now showing, with his low rider jeans, a large band of gleaming white boxers up around his waist.
Sami just stared and stared. She couldn't explain it to herself, and didn't try. It was as though she were the game, the target and he was out there pulling strings from afar, and Sami was caught,
She spent the whole time that he was working, staring at him. He glanced at her at times and even waved once, knowing that she was watching him. His smile was dazzling and Sami realized that she was on the verge of doing something monumentally stupid. She just didn't know what it was going to be.
He finally was finished, and was about to put things away. She went out, and, of course, the stupid things that she was afraid she'd do, began right then. She pushed her capris down so that they wreathed her hips and exposed a good couple inches of her panties. It was the only thing that she could think of to do. Sami had never been into any kind of flashing thing, Jason could have told anyone that. But today she did it, wondering if he'd notice.
She went into the shed with him, before him, and bent down to make room for the mower again, knowing that she was showing him, again, her panties. She got up and ran smack into that gorgeous smile again, only this time it was accompanied by the open shirt, the large brown eyes and that three inches of white, white boxers.
Sami was smitten.
"Uh, thank you," she said. "How much?"
Ramon grinned at her and said: "Oh, pretty ladies don't pay! That's not what pretty ladies are for."
"Ohh," Sami managed only just.
Then she did it; Sami pushed her stupid decision forward a huge amount by reaching down with her hand and running her hand along the edge of those pristine white boxers. She shocked herself but didn't seem to shock him at all.
"Pretty Sami," he said, "My chica, I have no time; I have to go but you give me your number and I will call."
And Sami knew, she absolutely knew that she was going to do what this handsome teen ager, with the gorgeous brown eyes, and the lovely white boxers was telling her to do.
He gave her a pen and then reached with his hand and pushed down the waist band of those white boxers so that the line of hair that went down to his crotch was showing.
"Write it here!" he said and Sami, stupid, unthinking, smitten Sami did. She wrote her cell number on his stomach, realizing as she did it, and the very thought burned her hand, that she was writing her number only about four inches above his ... she didn't know what word to use for herself in this reverie.
"Surely penis wouldn't do!" she thought, "No, four inches above his cock!" There she thought it, almost said it out loud and barely avoided giggling.
But she wrote the number and then he was kissing her, and she was doing it, kissing and loving it, loving the heat of it, the wetness of it, the demand of it, and the almost dirtiness of it and hoping, hoping, hoping that he'd call, all the while knowing that she'd respond, if he did. She'd surely do that.
And thinking at the same time: "Take that, Jason; see what dumb old Sami does now!"
And as he kissed her, he reached down and, shocked her by grabbing the waist band of her panties. When he had the waist band in his hand, he pulled upward, getting a kind of a squealy 'eeep' sound from her. It pulled her panties up and into the crack of her ass and up against her pussy hair, and left her breathing hard.
He stood back then and smiled at her, seeing that now he'd exposed a good six inches of her beige panties.
"Got to go, Chica," he said, running one hand down the front of her exposed panties, and he left her that way.
She stood there as though smitten and rooted to the spot. She watched until he was totally gone and then, with the idea at first of straightening out her panties, pulled her capris down but then, without hesitation, down went the panties too and Sami Carr, who never did such things, played with herself until she was left shivering, shaking, cumming and had tears on her cheeks! The bad decision had indeed begun.
She waited for a call, not believing it would come but it did. Early on a Saturday. He called and told her to come to a park on the east side of the city to meet him.
Sami had not calmed down; not a bit and had already determined to do what he wanted. She was going to do this for Sami and please him in the process. She went to the park.
She was walking through the park toward the trees, where he'd told her to meet him, when her phone rang. She knew, she knew before she looked at the phone. It was indeed him.
"Ramon?" she said softly into the phone.
"Pretty Chica," he said, "You came to the park."
"Yes," Sami answered. "Where are you?"
She was on the brow of a hill at that point, not far from the wooded summit of the hill.
"I'm here and I'm watching, Pretty Sami, Chica," he said in his soft silky voice, letting her easily picture in her mind his soft brown eyes, brilliant smile and those alluring white boxers, nor did she know or ever realize why the sight of that line of white boxers were such a turn on for her.
"Walk up the hill, Pretty Sami," he said, "I'll tell you when to stop."
Sami did as she was told; she walked slowly up the hill, all the while listening to Ramon's musical voice on the phone.
"Stop, Pretty Chica," he said, when she'd gotten just past the first of the trees.
.... There is more of this story ...