textfiles/sex/EROTICA/B/bblind.txt

                      BLIND MAN'S BLUFF
                     By WRITER MAN 2537
     I first met Darryl when I first got out of college, eager
to start my work with the handicapped.  Darryl was my first
case, and I was eager to try out all the many theories I had
in mind as to how to bring the handicapped out of their shell.
     I've often wondered about that assignment.  I mean, Nurse
Battleaxe (not her real name, but her unofficial nickname, it
fit her well enough) must have caught my eager enthusiasm and
decided that it called for a little shock therapy.  As a
result of her plan and my own eagerness, I neglected to even
ask what Darryl's handicap was, so I went to the door and
knocked with no idea of what I was about to face.  Believe me,
it occurred to me on the drive there, but of course, then it
was too late to ask.
     Seeing Darryl was a shock.  I don't mean he looked bad
or anything, though God knows I wouldn't have altered my face
if he had been.  He was handsome.  No, wrong cute.  Darryl was
beautiful.  Bright, sunny-gold hair, a thin face with a pug
nose that was, somehow, aristocratic.  He looked like those
oh-so-perfect models that grace magazine covers.  Except...
     Except for his eyes.  You see, Darryl didn't HAVE any
eyes.  Just open, blank sockets of pinkish scar tissue.  I
knew better than to ask my first question, which was, what
happened to you???  That question was a shout in my mind.
     Darryl said, "You're Ted?"
     "Uh, yeah, Ted Armbrister.  You're Darryl?"
     Darryl chucked, an easy, free laugh.  "Can you imagine
anyone else looking like this?"
     "Uh...."  I was floundering.
     "Don't worry about it." Darryl said.  "It all happened
a long time ago.  Come on in and we'll talk over your duties."
     They were easy enough, to cook and clean for him, drive
him where he wanted to go, and so on.  Darryl had money, I
knew, enough to keep this huge house and pay a full-time
service salary.  That was me.
     While Darryl showed me around, I thought over my unspoken
duties.  Never rearrange ANYTHING without talking to him
first.  Leave the lights on; they wouldn't bother Darryl and
I may need the light if something unexpected happened.  And
watch him carefully the first few days, until I was certain
of what he could and couldn't do, and what he shouldn't do but
would try to do anyway.
     Darryl ended at his study, where he donned a pair of dark
sunglasses, hiding those horrible holes in his face.  "You
caught me napping in here when you knocked." he said.  "I
ought to get back to work."
     "Work?  What do you do?" I asked.
     Darryl laughed again.  "I'm a stockbroker.  Didn't the
nurse tell you anything?"
     "Nope.  Not a damned thing." I said, trying to sound
relaxed and easy.
     "Hmm." Darryl said.  "Do you know why she wanted me to
meet you at the door without my glasses?"
     "I can't think of any reason." I stuttered out.  That
damned battleaxe, I thought to myself, I'll get her for this.
     I spent the rest of the day familiarizing myself with the
house, learning where things were.  The house was spotless;
there was no work for me until dinnertime.  Darryl went back
to his computer terminal, which was hooked into a device that
turned its output into Braille, which he read with capable
fingers.  He had a regular typewriter board, and his fingers
seemed to fly over the keys without hesitation.  I tried to
be quiet, and Darryl never seemed to notice where I was.
     At six o'clock, Darryl stretched and yawned.  I was
sitting on his sofa (he knew I was there, never sneak around
on a sightless person) reading a novel he kept there for his
visitors to read.  "Time to knock off for the day." He said.
"What's for dinner?"
     "What would you like?" I asked, getting up.
     Darryl shrugged.  "Suit yourself. But first, I'll need
a bath.  Go get it ready and strip down.  I'll be in there in
a minute."
     "Strip down?" I asked, stricken.  "Why?"
     Darryl looked at me, uncannily knowing where I was
exactly.  "I get turned around in the shower.  You have to
give me the bath."
     "Oh, okay." I said and took off.
     Darryl walked in just as I was tugging off my underwear
(yellow tiger-striped, a gift from one of my ex-lovers). He
wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing, not even a bathrobe, and
my eyes, knowing he'd never notice, ran up and down his body.
     Darryl worked out, that was for sure.  His body was lean
and supple, but he had, what's the word, he had definition.
His body was nearly hairless, smooth, sleek, lustrous.  His
cock was a free-swinger bellclapper as he walked in....  To
hell with it.  I was to be his hands and eyes, nothing else.
     I washed his body with plenty of soap, enjoying the
strokes, while Darryl hung on to rails on the sides for
balance.  He did seem to have trouble in the shower, his body
swaying, uncertain.  I scrubbed him easily enough until it
came time to wash his cock and balls.  I tried to be
professional about it, but while rinsing him off, I found
myself jerking it for him instead.  It began to rise and grow
in girth, and Darryl jerked it away.  "That's enough of that."
     I flushed bright scarlet, I'm sure.  "I'm sorry."
     "Don't worry about it." Darryl said.  "Just rinse me off.
I'm clean enough."
     I sluiced him clean and started to dry him.  Darryl
jerked the towel away.  "I'll take care of this.  You go start
dinner." he said.
     Dinner was okay, uninspired but filling.  I would have
to learn his tastes, with no help from him.  He ate it all,
but was quiet and barely talked the rest of the day.  At 10:00
o'clock, Darryl looked at me again from the TV (what went
through his mind, I wondered.  We were watching Star Trek, and
according to Darryl brief summary of his life, he would never
have seen it with his eyes.  I wondered what Picard and Riker
looked like to him.  "Let's go to bed." he said.
     "Do you need my help?" I asked.
     "Just get me to the bedroom." he said, taking my arm in
one strong hand.  "I feel sleepy, and might stumble."
     Upstairs, he went into his bedroom with strong, sure
steps.  I'm very ashamed of what I did next.  I said
goodnight, closed the door, and pussyfooted over to a corner.
I was breaking one of our strongest rules.  I was watching
Darryl without his knowledge and permission.
     I was attracted to the guy, damn it!  He was so damned
beautiful, I wanted to watch him undress, and maybe, if I was
lucky, watch him play with himself before he dropped off to
sleep.  I wanted to see him.  It seemed harmless enough.
     I eased into the chair in one corner and watched as he
tugged off his lounging jacket and loose-fitting trousers.
He had no underwear on underneath.  I saw that cock of his
again, that beautiful cock on that beautiful body.  I wanted
it so damned bad, to take it into my mouth and suck on it
while he squirmed underneath me.  I stealthily unzipped my
pants, tugged them and my underwear down to mid-thigh.  My
cock was rock-hard.  I had to jerk it a while.  And Darryl
wouldn't notice, would he?
     Darryl was nude now, and he got into his bed, not into
it, but he lay on top of the covers in the middle of his huge,
satin-covered bed.  His right hand was stroking his cock and
balls; his cock grew and soon stood at full mast.
     It was long, really long and beautiful, just like the
rest of Darryl.  Thin, it somehow stood straight out from his
body, the fat, round head a big knob atop it.  Both of his
hands wrapped around this flagpole of manhood.  Double-
handed, he stroked his cock in long, slow strokes.
     I got up as quietly as I could; I wanted a better look
at this.  I walked over to stand at the side of his bed,
looking down at his face, his dark glasses (his only covering,
why had he worn them to bed?) obscuring that part of his face,
but the rest of it softened by passion.  His teeth, perfect
white pearls, were shining in his grimace as he tugged with
increasing ferocity at his huge schlong, his hips bucking up
into it as he thrust into his palms, fucking his hands with
each jab.
     I eased off my T-shirt so I could play with my nipples.
My left hand pinched my teats while I flogged my own, smaller
cock, trying not to groan with my lust as my passion built up.
     Darryl got wilder now, his body really bucking as he
fucked his hands with his long shaft.  He was making the
bedsprings squeak though softly.  His breath was coming in
short gasps, his balls tightened up to hug his cock at its
base.
     My own passion was building up and I knew I couldn't hold
out much longer.  But where to shoot it, and how to shoot
without my groans alerting Darryl to my presence?  I realized
Darryl was as close as I was, and that gave me the idea.
     I stood as close to the writhing figure on the bed as I
could.  As Darryl groaned his body constricting, he raised his
head and shoulders off the bed, and gave a loud grunt, "Ug,
ug, uuuuuugh!"
     And he was shooting a wild load all over his face and
chest.
     It was my chance.  I shot my load along with him, aiming
for his body, to let my white streams arc over to land on him,
to commingle with his.  Let Darryl think he was shooting the
whole damned load!  Let my come caress his body as he slept.
I managed to keep my footing, but it was a struggle, and my
own small grunts were covered by his loud groans as his
passion took him over, used him fiercely, then released him
to lie gasping on the bed.
     I was about to pass out from lack of air, trying to
control my breathing.  I gulped, swallowed hard, endured it.
I had to!  If he found out I was here....
     Darryl stretched luxuriously out on his bed.  His hands
rubbed his body, rubbing his come into his skin, and he
gathered up a handful of his (my!) come, brought it to his
lips, smeared it on them.
     I was able to breathe, and see, again.  Darryl of course,
would never see again.  I was safe.  I gathered my things
quietly and left, casting one look back at the pale white body
stretched across the bed like a leopard resting after a meal.
Darryl seemed to be asleep.  And it was time for me to sleep
as well.
     I cursed myself as I got into my own, smaller bed next
door.  I had taken a foolish risk.  I told myself sternly that
I must never do that again.
     But I knew as I told myself that, that I wouldn't listen.
Tomorrow night, I would be there again.
     I awoke the next day to find Darryl standing over my bed.
Still naked, I could see where the come had dried on him,
thick white lumps all over his body that marked where I had
shot.  When I jerked off, I usually shot it into the sink or
onto an old rag.  My come is so thick and lumpy, and if it
dries on you, it's awfully hard to get off again.
     "I feel dirty this morning." Darryl announced.  "I think
I'd better shower before breakfast."
     "Okay." I said and crawled out of bed.  If Darryl was
going to parade around naked, I might as well, too, especially
if I was headed for the shower.  I slept nude, and so had to
make no special effort for the shower.  "Let's go." I said.
     "Hadn't you better take your pajamas off?" Darryl asked.
     "Don't wear them." I said.
     Darryl grinned.  "Me, either.  I lay on top of my covers,
let the wind play over my body.  It feels so damned good."
     Well, this wasn't news to me.  "Really?" I said.
     "Let's go get cleaned up.  I got a busy day ahead of me."
     I scrubbed him with surer hands now.  But I made sure
that most of my casual strokes played over his chest and
stomach.  My come was there, white ovals still after the first
soaping.  I had got most of it, but not all.  When Darryl
announced enough, he still bore the marks of my come on him.
But what was I to say?  I let him get dressed still wearing
some of my come shots on him, especially what had to have been
the first spray, a large round blotch on his rib cage.
     I stepped out and dried alongside him, confident now that
with Darryl I had no need of modesty.  With Darryl, modesty
was baked into his program, he had no choice but to not be
able to see me!  I hated myself for thinking that, and got
dressed in just my underwear.
     "Okay if I dress casual?" I asked.
     "Suit yourself." Darryl shrugged.  "Who's going to see
you?"
     I liked him for that remark, the proof that he was inured
to his condition, able to treat it as the fact of life it was
for him.
     As I scrambled eggs in my underwear, I realized with a
start that I was well on my way to falling in love with my
charge.  Big mistake Number One.
     I fretted about it the entire day.  Preoccupied, I burned
lunch, and had to start over.  When I washed Darryl, my hands
were insistent, hungry, touching him intimately without my
permission.  But he didn't seem to mind.
     "Ted?" he asked me at last.
     "Hmm?"
     "Can I look at you?"
     I knew what he meant, he wanted to touch my face, a
common request for a sightless person to make.  The wonder was
that it had taken him so long.  "Go ahead." I said, and
pressed his hands against my face.
     He touched me carefully, feeling every square inch with
competent hands.  It aroused me though I knew better than to
treat it as a come-on.  He was just looking the only way he
could, with his hands.
     "A strong nose." He commented.  "Gentle eyes.  A solemn
mouth.  You should laugh more."  He finished and said, "Let's
dry off."
     We dried off, and I playfully scrubbed his back for him
with my towel.  He laughed and permitted it.  I reached around
to his chest and stomach, and with my damp towel managed to
take off the last few traces of where I had splattered him so
unknowingly the night before.  We watched TV while sitting
side by side on the couch, rather than him in an armchair like
the night before.  It was his choice more than mine.  I liked
it, sort of a symbol that we were growing closer together.
     At 10:00 p.m., I turned off the TV set, and said, "Lights
out."
     Darryl smiled.  "They always are, for me."  He smiled,
but sobered up, and I knew he was thinking of his eyes, or
lack of eyes.
     "Want to tell me what happened?" I asked gently, non-
threateningly.
     Darryl told me the story, with several long pauses.  He
had been an abused child, his stepfather beating him, and
raping him at night.  But the authorities had done nothing,
nothing permanent anyways. Then one day his stepfather came
in drunk and violent.  He attempted to force himself on
Darryl, who protested.
     And his stepfather poked out his eyes with a knife,
slowly and deliberately, while the young child screamed.
     "That was all it took." Darryl said at the end.  "The
authorities were finally able to do something.  All it cost
me were my eyes.  He died in prison a few months later.  Even
the inmates don't like child molesters."
     I didn't say a word, just held him in my arms.  He didn't
cry (COULD he cry?  Did he even still have tear ducts?  I
remembered those vacant holes,l then forced the question away
from me; I didn't want to know), he just lay quietly in my
arms for a time.
     "Let's hit the hay." he said.
     He was quiet going up to his room, somber and morose.
I remembered my intentions of that afternoon, intentions
rejected, reaffirmed, repulsed, returning.  Odds were against
his jerking off tonight.  But I was going to be there, to see
if he did.
     I was still wearing only my underwear.  It was easy to
say goodnight, watch as he ambled over to his bed, then let
the door close noisily.  Then I stealthily got out of my
underwear, carefully kept out of his way, but stayed close to
him, close enough to see all of him as he stretched out again
on his bed.
     He didn't touch his cock, but after a time (during which
I despaired of watching him again this night), it grew of its
own accord.  I stifled a sneeze, cursed myself silently for
the slight noise I had made.  But Darryl again reached both
hands down to his cock, to stroke it with sure, gentle
strokes.  His cock responded, grew to a rigid pole that I
looked at in hungry fascination.  How would anyone be able to
take that long length?  It must be ten or eleven inches, maybe
more!  Both of his hands still left a goodly portion of his
cockshaft uncovered, which was probably why he enjoyed fucking
his hands like he did.
     I remembered my intentions.  To quietly enter into sex
with him.  Could I do it?  Did I have the nerve?  Better maybe
to just jerk off with him again, but not (NOT) shoot on him
again.
     I stood at the edge of the bed.  He wasn't centered this
time, and thus lay only a few inches away from me.  I could
have reached out and took his cock if I wanted to.  All I had
to do was reach out and take it....
     My hand moved of its own accord.  Darryl gasped when he
felt my hand, the insolent intruder into his private domain.
But he didn't pull away.  He lay there, taking his hands away,
letting me do whatever I wanted to with his cock.  I massaged
it for him, acting as an incubus in the night.
     "Suck it for me, Ted." Darryl whispered.  Whatever he
was, he wasn't mad.
     I took the cockhead into my mouth, gently fondled it with
my lips, wetting it, tasting it all.
     "Oh, God, Ted, that feels so good, man!" Darryl gasped.
"Why didn't you do this last night?"
     "Last night?" I said, a mumble on his cockhead.  I pulled
my head away.  "Last night?"
     Darryl grinned.  "I knew you were there.  Why else do you
think I kept my glasses on?"
     "You knew I was there?" I was having trouble accepting
this.  "But how?"
     Darryl sighed.  "I thought you were trained!  Ted, when
you lose your eyesight, the rest of your senses pick up some
of the slack.  I hear better than most people.  I could hear
your footsteps as gentle as they were.  I could hear your
breath.  I heard you moan when you came.  I felt your
ejaculation hitting me along with mine.  You really thought
I didn't know you were there?"
     "I guess I did." I said.  "I'm really sorry.  I know I
was wrong..."
     "Shut up and suck me, Ted." Darryl said, one hand
imperiously thrusting me back to my blowjob.  "That's going
to be one of your duties from now on, sucking my cock for me."
     I took to my new duty gladly, finding that my eagerness
let me take him much deeper than I thought I could.
     Darryl moaned, his hips thrusting into my mouth with
their old movement, trying to fuck my mouth the way he fucked
his hands.
     "Get up on the bed." Darryl ordered.  "I want to suck on
that cock of yours."
     I giggled as I clambered onto the bed, not letting go of
his cock with my mouth, but my whole body pivoting around that
fulcrum.  I let go only long enough to ask.  "Is that another
of my duties?"
     "You'd better believe it is." Darryl said and gulped me
down.  We 69'ed for a good long time, but mutual consent
stretching it out, making it last.  Darryl bucked and groaned,
then let go of my cock, now slippery with his saliva.  "Stop
that!" he said.
     "Why?" I asked, letting go as ordered.
     He crawled around, feeling out my body's position by
touch as he went.  "Because you've got it lubed enough now.
I want to fuck you, now."
     I was turned on incredibly by this, the easy mastery he
took over me.  He didn't need leather, or whips, or chains.
By the force of his personality, I was his to command.  I let
him take position at his own speed, merely spreading my legs
as he crawled between them.  He levered my legs up, and his
hungry, long cock found my asshole much quicker than I had
thought it would.
     It was a good thing I had used as much spit as I had; if
I hadn't, for all of my past experience taking men's cock up
my ass, I'd never have been able to handle it.  He took his
time, but never stopped until his entire length of cock was
buried in my ass.  All of it!
     Then he fucked me, in long, slow strokes.  He moved so
easily, so perfectly, like we had always been lovers rather
than it being our first time.  I felt like I'd always been
doing this, or rather, that all of my past experiences had
been for this one reason, to let me take this, my man, here
and now.  I flipped us over so that I was on top, and jacked
myself slowly, in time to his strokes.
     Darryl fucked me for at least ten minutes before the
urgency of his strokes told me he was about to come.  He
grabbed my cock from me, flogged it for me until my orgasm hit
just before his, and we were both shooting come, him into me,
me onto his chest, a thick, heavy white flood.
     That was how it began, Darryl and me.  We've been lovers
ever since that day I lost his game of blind man's bluff.
                           THE END