Pooja Sinha had a hard and fast rule: Do NOT, under any circumstances, never, ever, ever fool around with a married man. She'd been married and cheated on and she remembered all too well the pain it caused her. In her mind there was no valid, justifiable reason to date someone who she knew was going to be a liar from the very beginning; she had enough respect for herself to not date someone else's man. Because she was bisexual, the same theory applied to women as well. Women were slightly different in that she rarely, if ever, had a married woman trying to seduce her. Most women weren't after illicit sex and extramarital liaisons with random other women so while Pooja felt morally righteous and superior for saying on principle that she never messed around with a married woman, the instances of her being tempted by a married woman were almost non-existent.
Pooja was the kind of woman who felt comfortable adhering to rules. She'd served in the military for 20 years and was now enjoying her life pursuing her dreams of becoming an artist. In many ways, it was the exact opposite of the strict, rigid life she'd had in The Army. She could stand in front of a canvas for hours, sometimes forgetting to eat, on only two or three hours of sl**p a night, and paint to her heart's content. Several local galleries were showing her work and while the sales were few and far between, they were enough to keep her motivated to continue her passion. Her military pension paid the bills so she was comfortable and happy. Single life wasn't necessarily to her liking but she wasn't so desperate to be in relationship that she would jump at the first man who showed her attention either. Her 40th birthday was coming up, she was relatively content in life, and didn't really have a care in the world.
When they say that life has a way of knocking you off your feet, sometimes that can be literal. In her garden pulling weeds one day, Pooja made a wrong move and ended up face up in amongst her gardenias unable to move. If it hadn't been for her trusty letter carrier happening along, she might have been there for hours. After a very brief stint in the local hospital, she ended up in the VA for rehabilitation and physical therapy. She'd injured her back in the military years before and it had a habit of acting up every once in a while, but after a few days rest, it might literally be years before another flare up. If her bl**d sugar hadn't been so out of control, she would have been released with the usual, "Take care, don't over-exert yourself, take two pain killers and call me in the morning," shtick. The combination of the medicine and the fact that she hadn't been eating well were causing her glucose levels to go up and down like a yo-yo, sometimes spiking to dangerous levels. They released her but with orders for a nurse to come visit her home for follow up visits and make sure she was getting insulin when and if she needed it and monitor her progress. Say what you want about the military, and disregarding the times when they occasionally drop the ball, their care for their own is beyond compare.
Itching to get back to her canvases and ready to assume more responsibility for her health, Pooja started eating well and doing all the exercises they suggested she do for slowly strengthening her back muscles the minute she got home. If there was a regimen to be performed, Pooja could do it. She didn't want or need a nurse coming to check on her; she wanted to paint. Twice a week, whether she wanted it or not, a nurse was to come to check on her until the doctor released her. The first day Karen showed up, Pooja tried her best to be polite but it was more than apparent that she was frustrated and anxious about someone taking care of her. Karen was respectful of the retired Major, even calling her Ma'am. She was warm, gracious, and a highly competent nurse as well. Pooja insisted, "Do not call me Ma'am. I'm not in the military anymore." The two ladies had a rapport immediately. While she could have been in and out in twenty minutes, Karen stayed for almost an hour, getting to know her new patient and asking all sorts of questions to ensure that she was getting the best care possible and that her recovery was imminent. Karen was very personable, meaning she liked getting to know her patients in order to provide them with the absolute best care. She felt like it was her responsibility to extend herself to her patients, to be a friend to them.
Karen was, for all intents and purposes . . . well . . . not exactly the complete physical opposite of Pooja, but there were some significant differences. Other than the obvious difference in race, Pooja being Black and Karen being white; Pooja was taller than average, Karen was of average height. They both had similar builds but Karen had recently given birth and was nursing and the owner of very large, very sensitive breasts. They were both very attractive women who didn't feel a need to flaunt it and downplayed their attractiveness out of sensibility and practicality. The two women hit it off immediately and seemed to become friends from essentially day one. There was that connection, that intangible bond you get sometimes when you meet someone and you feel as if you've known them forever. Or, at the very least, that you can open up to them in ways you can't with others. Karen hadn't even been coming two full weeks when Pooja started looking forward to her visits. They would break up the monotony of her day, provide her company, and she enjoyed sharing her artwork with Karen.
One day, Karen stopped by on a day she wasn't scheduled to visit. She said she just wanted to check up on Pooja. The visit lasted almost two hours and the women talked about life, love, and everything else under the sun. It was that day that Pooja realized that the chemistry she shared with Karen was more than platonic. It was that night that Pooja allowed herself to have her very first fantasy about Karen. She lay in bed, tossing and turning, fantasizing about her new friend. Her hormones raged and her body ached to explore a more physical, sensual connection with the woman who had mandatory access to her home two times a week. Because she had been compelled to keep her sexuality secret and hidden in the military, Pooja had been accustomed to not opening up to anyone but potential lovers about her preferences. The newly emerging artist in Pooja was different. It was almost as if the minute she picked up a paint brush, she became committed to telling the truth, with her art and with her heart.
"Hey friend, come on in," Pooja said as she opened the door widely to greet Karen on her next scheduled visit. This time, rather than her hands and clothes being covered in paint, she was wearing a teal colored blouse and jeans that would be what she'd wear on a casual date with a man. She watched for Karen's reaction carefully as she undid the buttons on her shirt to reveal a black lace push up bra as she listened to her heart. Pooja rested her right hand on Karen's thigh as she pricked the finger on her left hand to test her bl**d sugar. Still no response. Karen seemed to be oblivious to any sexual tension and went about her business professionally and reported that she would in fact be telling the doctor that Pooja was cleared for release.
Visibly saddened, Pooja sighed and said, "I'm going to miss you, friend. It's been great getting to know you over this short period of time."
"Oh, I can still stop by and see you," Karen responded. "I have other patients in the area and I would be more than happy to stop by and check on you every once in a while." She added, "You know, my life is so routine, so predictable. I've been married to the same man for fifteen years, we've been in a relationship since high school; I've been in the military for more than a decade. I'm a mom and a wife and a nurse. You're an artist. I admire what you're doing. It's so, you know, different. I think what you're doing is fascinating and I love your work and I just think you're a really interesting, really nice person." It wasn't exactly what Pooja wanted to hear but it felt nice regardless and she knew Karen was being sincere. The last things she wanted to do was alienate her new friend so they hugged goodbye with promises of seeing one another again.
Before the week was out, Karen called and asked if it was okay if she stopped by. Pooja was elated. She grabbed a bottle of wine, some cheese and crackers and set out a little tray. "I finished with all my patients early today and I just didn't feel like going home yet," Karen blurted out the second she walked in. "My s****r-in-law is watching the baby and my older two have practice after school. I just needed a little adult time, I hope you don't mind."
Mind? Was she crazy? Pooja was elated. Karen graciously accepted the offer of the chilled Pinot Grigio at 3:00 in the afternoon and nibbled on the smoked gouda and crackers. Nestled comfortably on her sofa, the two women continued to open up to one another in ways that far exceeded most burgeoning friendships. They were both revealing personal information about each other, about their sex lives, love lives, fears, dreams, frustrations, things that usually come after knowing someone a long time. As the proverbial clock struck 5, Karen had to leave and her car was barely out the driveway before Pooja had her vibrator out and was frantically stimulating her already aroused pussy.
In the following weeks, the unscripted visits became more frequent, with Karen sometimes stopping by on her lunch breaks, after seeing all her patients, and even on her days off. The beauty of their conversations was that they were deep, raw, and honest, not at all superficial. Pooja didn't want to seem obvious, so some days she would offer herbal tea or juice, others nothing at all, and occasionally, when she thought she might get Karen to loosen up a bit more, she offered some form of alcohol, you know, all under the guise of being a gracious hostess. Her nights were tortured and sweaty, fantasizing about making love to her new friend, terrified she might lose her if she revealed her lust but aroused beyond belief by the connection.
Eventually, Pooja knew it was time to reveal her true feelings. She decided she would do it with a painting. Inspired, the piece came to life and she invited her friend to her studio to reveal it. "It's not finished," she mumbled, terrified about being rejected as an artist and a friend. As Karen stared at the canvas, she could clearly make out two women who could not be confused for anyone other than herself and Pooja in a very intimate, semi-nude embrace.
"Oh my! Is that who I think it is?" Pooja nodded, too scared to say anything at that moment. "I'm flattered," Karen said, trying to be careful not to hurt her friend's feelings. "You know . . . I'm not attracted to you like that, right? I just want to be friends."
Pooja felt a sense of relief almost. It wasn't as if she wanted Karen to rip her clothes off and for them to fuck in the middle of the floor, it was more like she just needed her friend to see all of her, to know her truth, to not hide any parts of herself anymore. She felt free. She mumbled something about the chemistry and the connection they shared and apologized in ten different ways for making Karen uncomfortable and asked if they could just remain friends. For all of her infatuation, Pooja knew that Karen was married and she wasn't about to break that rule, even if the attraction was mutual.
The dynamics of the relationship did change after that. Karen was more hesitant to come by, not because she didn't like Pooja any more but because she felt awkward. Pooja was gracious but offered no alcohol on their brief visits. Their conversations were more tentative and reserved for a few weeks. Before long, water found its own level and everything was back to being comfortable, with the small exception of the fact that they two didn't mention the sexual attraction thing. It didn't need to be mentioned. There was a growing sexual tension between the two women. They would sit closer together on the sofa, touch more. A bright lamp in the corner of the room would eventually become replaced by the soft glow of candlelight. Their hugs goodbye lasted longer and it was more than evident that Karen was beginning to trust Pooja in ways she never thought possible.
"What's it like," Karen asked one day as she stared at her cup of tea, assuming Pooja would know immediately what she was talking about.
Pooja did understand. The rapport they had built together was based on a certain level of non-verbal communication. "You mean being with another woman?" Karen nodded. "Well, it can be the most tender, gentle, sensual experience you've ever had, in a way that no man could ever touch you, kiss you or satisfy you. It can be just as intense and frenzied as fucking a man. Mostly, for me, the difference is there is no end objective. You know when you're with a man that everything he does is with one goal in mind, to get to the fucking. With a woman, there is no such agenda; it's all about the journey, not the destination. I've made love to a woman for eight hours once and my only goal was to get her to the very edge of orgasm and then stop over and over and over again. At the end of six hours, she was screaming for me to . . . " Pooja stopped in mid sentence. Karen was breathing heavy, visibly aroused, and her shirt showed signs of her breasts leaking. She leaned in close and tilted Karen's face towards hers, their lips virtually close enough for a kiss, making intense eye contact. "Are you okay?"
"You know, I told John about . . . you know . . . about . . . well, I told him about the painting and everything. We aren't prudes by any means, we experiment like any other couple, watch porn, whatever we can to keep our sex life from being boring. It's just that you do get in a rut after you've been married a while, the same thing no matter how hard you try. He got really turned on when I told him. In fact, our sex life has been really great ever since I shared with him about . . . it, I mean us, I mean . . . you know what I mean. It's just that, I keep wondering what it would be like to . . . you know . . . well, I'm sure you know. The last thing I want to do is lead you on and I don't want to lose our friendship but I would be lying if I didn't tell you that I've been thinking about what it would be like." Karen was blushing and embarrassed but intimate enough with her friend to open up honestly.
Pooja reached out and held her friend's hand. "I'll answer any questions you have and I won't stop being your friend. I won't do anything that will make you feel uncomfortable. I promise. I have a policy; I don't fool around with anyone who is married so we are pretty safe to talk about anything. It will go no further than that. If you want to talk about sex with me and go home and fuck your husband like crazy, that is just fine with me."
They both laughed and hugged but the sexual tension was so thick in the air you could cut it with a knife. Karen gathered her things and bolted out there like lightning. Over the next few months, their relationship took on a new dynamic. Karen flirted, tempted, and teased and Pooja was holding fast to her rule about not fooling around with a married woman. Karen started forsaking her other friends, friends she's known since high school, to come spend time Pooja. She loved the feeling of freedom she got the very minute she walked through the door, the ability to tell the truth that she didn't have with her other friends. She loved the sexual tension and she had begun being more discriminate about the things she shared with her husband, not wanting him to know exactly how turned on she was getting sharing time with another woman. Karen knew that for all Pooja's integrity, she would never cross the line, so she felt nothing about teasing her friend, making not so subtle suggestions and then running out the door to the safety of her husband and married life.
One night, a little after one in the morning, Karen, audibly upset, called Pooja and said, "Sorry to wake you, but John and I had a really bad fight, do you mind if I crash at your place? I just can't stand the thought of sl**ping next to him right now. I need to get out of the house and I . . . well, I just want to come there to be honest." Pooja extended an offer for her friend to stay with her and said she would leave a key under the mat and the guest room ready for her whenever she got there. Karen was already on her way.
Within a half hour, she was in Pooja's driveway and the key was under the mat as promised. She quietly let herself in and peeked in the guest room with towels on the end of the bed and a cute little gift basket of toiletries on the dresser. Tentatively, she walked past the guest room to Pooja's master bedroom. Curiosity had gotten the best of her and she had to find out what it was like in real life. She was desperate to know what it was like to make love to another woman. She tiptoed in and folded her clothes in a neat pile as she undressed completely. Pooja lay sl**ping quietly. She pulled back the covers and crawled in bed, snuggling her body against the warmth of her friend's brown body.
Pooja awoke immediately, still groggy but very sure that there was a naked body next to hers. "Karen, what are you doing? Don't do this. Please."
Pooja's words were silenced with a kiss. Karen placed her lips against Pooja's and they shared an intimate, tender kiss, like only two women can share. Again, Pooja protested. "Karen, I'm not strong enough to withstand this kind of pressure. What about John?"
"I need this. I want this! You want it too. Please, don't make me go. Make love to me. Fuck me. Do whatever you want to me but don't make me go." The words choked up in her throat as the tears came. She couldn't leave, she wouldn't leave. This wasn't just about some random fuck with a stranger to get off. This wasn't a cheap thrill. This was a woman she loved as a friend, cared about, shared with, and to whom she was strangely attracted. She wanted to experience the thing that she had tried to deny for months. There was no denying that her clit would throb and her pussy would get moist when she was with Pooja, when they were sitting back talking, at times not even about sex. There was no denying that when she was having sex with her husband, she was thinking about what it would feel like to have a woman's mouth on her, licking her, tasting her, eating her, about how different it would feel.
She didn't have time to think too much about the ramifications of her actions. Pooja rolled over and positioned herself over Karen. Their legs intertwined. Karen reached up and pulled the t-shirt from Pooja's sl**py frame and tossed it to the floor. She felt sexy and wanted in the moment.
"Are you sure you want this, want me?"
Feeling more confident than she'd felt in a very long time, she reached up and placed her mouth on Pooja's. Their lips gently parted and their tongues found each other's. Electricity shot through Karen's body. Almost immediately, her pussy began to throb and pulse, getting wetter than she'd remembered in a very long time. A sound escaped her lips, one of pleasure and arousal. Pooja kissed her back and their kiss because more passionate but still very, extraordinarily sensual. Pooja kissed her way down Karen's neck, tasting her skin, pressing her lips to the erotic hot spots Karen had almost forgotten she had. Her body responded. She was writhing, twisting, panting and incredibly turned on. She'd imagined what it would be like to be with a woman but in her wildest imagination she had never thought that it would feel so excruciatingly erotic. By the time Pooja's lips got to her collar bone, sounds were escaping her lips that sounded strange to her own ears.