A WOMAN NEEDS TWO MEN FOR SEXUAL SATISFACTION
It was a thick brown envelope postmarked San Jose, California. There was no sender address. On several sheets of thick paper a young lady has written her story in her beautiful hand. Knowing my interest in unusual sexual behaviour she has written about her experiences in the hope that I would publish it. She apparently feels confident about what she is doing and in the hope that it could be beneficial to others placed in similar circumstances she desires her story to be more widely known. I have not changed even a comma in her manuscript.
***.
I am Kala. I am from Trichy, Tamilnadu, in India. I came to the U.S. after my arranged marriage to a Silicon Valley engineer. This is my story. Some readers may find my story beyond belief; others may be so disgusted that they would dart off angry comments and may even be abusive. I would like to assure them that even in my short life I have personal knowledge of no less than three stories similar to mine including a next door family I observed closely for an extended period. I feel my actions are clean and pure. Readers will of course form their own opinions, but one thing is certain, such events are commoner than we think possible even in conservative middle class Indian society and with more and more women taking up jobs it can only become more prevalent. Hence please read with an open mind.
*
"May I hold your hand" said James. I heard him but I did not react. I continued reading the document pencil in hand looking for typos. Then I looked up and smiled and extended my free hand towards him.
"You may," I said. He took my hand gently in his and crushed it. He felt my fingers one by one and ran his hand over my palm and back of the hand as if he was a blind man exploring an object that was strange. I resumed reading but I was unable to focus on the job. After playing with it for sometime he placed my palm upwards and stroked it almost erotically. My work was over. I closed the folder and looking into his eyes I asked smiling.
"May I remove my hand?"
"You may," he said. I wondered what significance he read into my not grasping his hand in return.
"Coffee?" he asked.
"Yes, thanks." I said. He went to the kitchenette and came out with a cup in one hand and a mug in another. I accepted the cup.
"Bru?" I said.
"It is Bru. I thought you will not find out. I got it in an Indian store. Does it taste like your home brew?"
"Not quite. There we do not use instant stuff. We buy the beans and roast and grind it. My grandmother goes further. She roasts it fresh every time and grinds it in her hand grinder."
"Must have filled the house with aroma?"
"More than that is the build up. The sound of the metal spoon scraping on the pan, the smell of roasting beans, the grinder's hum all add up. My granny's makes coffee drinking a spiritual experience."
"Fancy that. I cannot imagine coffee drinking in that light," he said as he sipped a brimming mug full of black stuff.
My work for the day was over. I left for my apartment on the way picking up Aparna my seven year old daughter from school. American born and bred even seven year olds do not need Mom's help to wash and change. Soon the little one was at the dining table ladling corkscrew pasta from the bowl that I micro waved and placed on the table. I cannot stand corkscrew pasta but Aparna adores it. I took some uppuma and heated it and ate it. I drank water but let the little one have milk the way she takes it in school—from a paper can. Aparna took the plate and placed it in the sink. She then settled in her toy corner. I went into the bedroom and closed the door.
I removed my top and then peeled off the pants. My granny when she first saw my photo in pants described it as abasam. This Tamil word means not just obscene but disgracefully so. I stood before the full length mirror in bra and panties. It disturbed me that when I viewed myself so scantily clad my thoughts should revert to James.
*
James is the founder owner of the business and I was his secretary. It was a small business employing a dozen people but James sometimes jocularly describes himself as the CEO who cannot pay himself six figure bonuses. James is a gentle person. For a CEO, even a minuscule one, James had a serious disability—he has never been able to get himself into a state of mind where he could fire an employee. He compensated for it by taking great care before hiring one. May be owing to his goodness he rarely has to question his staff selection policy. I like him very much and he likes me too. I often see his eyes glittering with affection when talking to me. Affection I say, not lust. James had just turned forty. He is a divorcee of three years. There were no children in the marriage.
*
I undid her bra clasps and removed the bra. I rubbed my breasts as I suppose all women do so when their bras come off after several hours of wear. I am rather proud of my figure, but my breasts sag for not only did I nurse Aparna for nine full months I did so without using any formula milk very much to my granny's pleasure. I jumped up and down to watch my breasts bounce. I do not know why I did that. Did James holding my hands loosen my inhibitions? I then removed my panties. I looked at my naked body in the full length mirror. I rubbed her hands on my pubic mound. A week's growth of hair made it scruffy. Once again a disturbing thought. Does James like it hairy or polished? My husband had no preference. 'Hair or no hair a lotus is a lotus,' he once said and laughed. I got on to the cot and struck various poses and watched myself in the mirror. I thought the pose that would excite men most was the one were I am on my knees and elbows with knees spread slightly apart, the vulval lips parted, and breasts hanging down like mangoes. Why should I think of exciting men when my husband alone should matter?
I went for a shower but first I had to attend to my pubic hair. I put a stool in the tub and sat with feet resting on the tub rim. I used my razor and shaved the pubic mound and then all the scattered hair of the lips. I opened out the lips and caught any escapees. I was satisfied that I had done a through job. It was while I was showering that I got down to analysing James' desire to hold my hands that I had kept postponing. I knew that my boss liked me and I was of course aware that in men a desire for physical intimacy follows. He was not the lusting type but was he in love? Love in the sense that one likes a person so much as to make the relationship very special. I did not have an answer. As for me I admired him and liked him. He figured often in my fantasies. When he was feeling my hand and especially when he was stroking my palm my heart was racing. What will be James' next request and how should I respond to that? It was more than I could handle just then.
I got out of the shower and wiped and powdered myself. I selected a night dress that was Mittu's favourite. (My husband's name is Mitran.) It was lavender coloured and was soft and smooth. He used to say it accentuated my rear by settling deep into the gluteal folds. He was due in an hour and a half and I had to prepare supper.
Aparna was asleep in her bunk bed by the time Mittu arrived. I opened the door and then we both did something unusual. May be he felt the heat that had developed in me or possibly he was hot too. Anyway we hugged and kissed passionately with the door widely open. He went in and changed to pyjamas and thin cotton top his usual summer home wear and went to the bunk bed and kissed Aparna. I was laying the plates for supper when I felt Mitran's hand rubbing my gluteal cleft over the night dress. Resting the heel of his hands on my waist he wriggled his finger tips to lift my dress inch by inch till my buttocks were bare. I helpfully held the dress up. He was on his knees on the carpet probing my gluteal cleft with his nose. I turned so suddenly that his nose was on my vulva. We laughed.
The day before my wedding my grandmother came to my room and gave me a one line advice. 'When he is hot allow him to flow' she said. My bewilderment made her smile. 'When the time comes you will understand,' she said. I acted on her advice now as I have done several times before. Girls who have not had grandmotherly advice would have said 'no here,' or 'we will move to the bedroom,' or some such thing. I did not do any such mood breaking foolishness. I spread my thighs further and moved backwards holding Mitran's head so that he never lost contact with my vulva that he was now licking. I gently lay down on my back and put my feet in the air without disturbing Mittu's contact. I was so hot that my G spot was right there on the surface for Mitran to stimulate. Soon I was clicking and moaning in a powerful orgasm, and when in the finale Mitran bit my clitoris I screamed softly.
"Quick Mittu, enter me," I said. He did so and soon we had our climaxes, and he as always waited for my signals and gave me two more.
After supper we slept. I do not know what time it was when I woke up.
"Kala darling," I heard him say.
"Yes my precious.'
"Has your boss made passes at you?"
"He has not and I don't think he will."
"What makes you so sure?"
"He is a gentleman. He will ask me first."
"Without you life will be pretty impossible for Aparna and me."
"Same here Mittu. It will not happen."
We slept, over slept in fact.
2
Mittu has of course met James. We had been to restaurants on four occasions and he has come home a couple of times. The first time it was for Deepavali. I knew that he had a very sweet tooth. I arranged a long array of Indian sweets with accent on the ones from Bengal. I got anxious when he started tasting each and every one of them. 'Now I know why diabetes is so common in your country,' he said.
James is an ardent baseball enthusiast as Mittu is a cricket lover. They frequently had heated discussion on the relative merits of their games. James had a box in the stadium and Mittu often went with him for games. I have never joined them in spite if pressing invitation from James to do so. I have not gone with Mittu for cricket games either. I promised to come for a playoff but their team never seems to get that far. Chess is another game both spend hours playing on the computer. In short Mittu and James are great friends.