Tracy Robinson 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 Tracy 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.
Tracy 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
sleep 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, Tracy
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 blood 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, Tracy 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, Tracy
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, Tracy 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. Tracy 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 Tracy,
but there were some significant differences.
Other than the obvious difference in race, Tracy being Black and Karen
being white; Tracy 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 Tracy 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 Tracy.
The visit lasted almost two hours and the women talked about life, love,
and everything else under the sun. It
was that day that Tracy realized that the chemistry she shared with Karen was
more than platonic. It was that night
that Tracy 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, Tracy had been accustomed
to not opening up to anyone but potential lovers about her preferences. The newly emerging artist in Tracy 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,” Tracy
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. Tracy rested her right
hand on Karen’s thigh as she pricked the finger on her left hand to test her
blood 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 Tracy was cleared for release.
Visibly saddened, Tracy 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 Tracy 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. Tracy 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 sister-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? Tracy 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 Tracy 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. Tracy 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, Tracy 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 Tracy in a very intimate, semi-nude embrace.
“Oh my! Is that who I think it is?” Tracy 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.”
Tracy 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, Tracy 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 Tracy any more but because she
felt awkward. Tracy 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
Tracy in ways she never thought possible.
“What’s it like,” Karen asked one
day as she stared at her cup of tea, assuming Tracy would know immediately what
she was talking about.
Tracy 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 . . . ” Tracy 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.
Tracy 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 Tracy
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 Tracy. 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 Tracy’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 Tracy 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 sleeping 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.” Tracy 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
Tracy’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 Tracy’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. Tracy lay sleeping quietly. She pulled back the covers and crawled in bed,
snuggling her body against the warmth of her friend’s brown body.
Tracy 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.”
Tracy’s words were silenced with
a kiss. Karen placed her lips against
Tracy’s and they shared an intimate, tender kiss, like only two women can
share. Again, Tracy 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 Tracy, 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.
Tracy rolled over and positioned herself over Karen. Their legs intertwined. Karen reached up and pulled the t-shirt from
Tracy’s sleepy 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 Tracy’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.
Tracy kissed her back and their kiss because more passionate but still
very, extraordinarily sensual. Tracy 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 Tracy’s lips got to
her collar bone, sounds were escaping her lips that sounded strange to her own
ears.
In the darkness of her bedroom,
in the middle of the night, Tracy put aside all her misgivings about engaging
in an affair with a married person and gave in to her desires. Before her was a sensual woman, a needy woman
who deserved to be made love to and pleasured like she’d never experienced previously. The woman beneath her was a friend, a person
she knew inside and out, a woman she had craved sexually for months. She took her time and prepared to pleasure
and seduce Karen until she begged her to stop.
If she had been given the
opportunity to prepare, she would have had various toys and things like honey,
ice cubes, satin sheets, a blindfold, and maybe even a hot all-girl movie
ready. With nothing but her hands and
mouth, she set to work. Unsure of how to
handle the lactation thing, she decided to proceed slowly and let Karen decide
how and where she should go. With that
decision, she decided to lick everywhere but her nipples. Methodically, she kissed, licked, and erotically
nibbled her way from Karen’s collarbone to her belly button and back again, not
missing a spot in between.
Every nerve ending in Karen’s
body felt alive with excitement. She was
tense and aroused and nervous all at the same time. She didn’t know what to do with her hands so
she gripped the sheets tightly and held on for dear life. Tracy took Karen’s hands and placed them on
her hips. Even in the darkness of night,
she could see the contrast in skin tone, feel the softness of a woman’s
flesh. Her hands began to roam, gently
caressing Tracy’s curves. Tracy
responded, “Mmmmm, that feels so nice. Don’t
stop. Oh, yeah, feel my tits.” Karen froze momentarily and then took a deep
breath and did just that. The weight,
the fullness, the feeling of those hard, dark nipples in her hands was sensory
overload. Something deep inside her,
something instinctual made her want those nipples in her mouth. Without saying a word, Tracy knew and lowered
her tits to her waiting mouth.
Karen took to making love to a
woman like a duck takes to water. She
licked and kissed and softly sucked like she wanted to be sucked. She did it the way she knew deep in her gut
would feel pleasurable. In that moment
she understood what people meant when they said that only another woman knows
how to pleasure a woman. Tracy was
moaning, rubbing her pussy against Karen’s thigh. It was slippery and hot and distracting. “Oh, Tracy, this is driving me crazy. Fuck me.”
Tracy responded with a
smile. She turned Karen over and
proceeded to kiss her way down her back, her thighs, all over her ass, her
tongue leaving a wet trail down her spine.
Karen had had enough of the tease and wanted more. Tracy grabbed her hips and pulled her to her
knees, causing Karen to gasp for air.
She gently parted the soft, pink folds of flesh that enveloped all that
made Karen a woman and stared. Almost imperceptibly,
she took her finger and gently caressed Karen’s clit. In that moment Karen was 100% sure John had
never touched her so softly, never found her spot so intentionally. She arched her back and let out a hiss. Her breathing was short, raspy. The sensation didn’t last long as Tracy’s
fingertips explored further, softly touching and caressing her soaking wet
pussy. The next sensation she felt was
that of hot breath on her inner thighs, her ass, her pussy. It was as if Tracy was making love to her pussy
with her eyes, not even touching it, just looking at it, examining it in a way
no one had ever done before. Karen was
chanting, “Eat me . . . lick me . . . fuck me . . . FUCK ME . . .”
Reaching between her legs, Karen
started to rub her own pussy but Tracy moved her hand away. She replaced her fingertip with her tongue
and began to lick softly. Karen’s words
now were incoherent, she was speaking the language of supreme ecstasy. From her clit to her asshole and back again,
Tracy tasted every inch of Karen’s wet slit.
She sucked where she was supposed to, licked in just the right
spots. And just when Karen didn’t think
she could take any more teasing, Tracy took her fingers and pushed them inside
Karen’s dripping wet pussy. They probed
and pushed all the right spots. That was
enough to send her over the edge but Tracy had other plans. Flipping her over, holding her legs back,
Tracy started licking her again. This
time her focus was solely on her clit, she was going to bring her to orgasm
with the flicking motion of her tongue.
Karen grabbed Tracy’s head and held it close as she sputtered
profanities and practically screamed how good it felt.
Just as Karen was about to reach
her special moment, Tracy stopped. She
climbed up Karen’s body and kissed her again, letting her taste her own
juices. Karen sucked her tongue
feverishly. She felt out of
control. She was caressing Tracy’s body
now, begging for release. She felt
uninhibited, unrestrained by the fears and apprehensions she previously
possessed. Then, there, it was about feeling
good, nothing more, nothing less. She
held up her tits to her friend. “Here,
suck them.” It was a symbolic gesture,
symbolizing a closeness and a bond that the two friends shared. It was representative of giving her sexuality
to a woman in a way that most would never share.
Tracy needed no further
encouragement and lowered her mouth to the hardened nipples. Softly, she sucked. It wasn’t about her pleasure, it was about
the intimacy, connection, and passion between the two friends. As her mouth filled with the sweet, warm
liquid, she heard Karen’s gentle moans.
Her own pussy was flowing freely now as her friend humped her thigh
against her mound. She slid her fingers
inside Karen again, this time, intending to give her an earth-shattering orgasm. At this point, Karen was so wet, the entire
room was filled with the sounds of her being finger fucked.
Both women were moaning,
groaning, chanting, cursing. At the last
minute, Tracy slid her body around and placed her pussy against Karen’s. It was soft and wet and unlike anything Karen
had ever felt before. They fucked each
other. They rubbed their clits against
one another, pink against pink, holding on to each other for dear life until
they both felt the waves of impending pleasure overtake them.
Karen slid out of bed in the
early morning hours. She needed to get
home to the kids before they started moving around. She softly kissed Tracy goodbye and whispered
that she would call her later that afternoon.
Tracy’s heart dropped. She felt
terrible about breaking her own rule. Karen
comforted her as best she could under the circumstances, assured her that their
friendship was important and she was unwilling to let it go. Tracy wasn’t sure exactly what the future
held for their friendship but she willing to face the consequences, come what
may.
Copyright 2011 AfroerotiK All
Rights Reserved
