Fucked the Blind Man out of His Shell

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.

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written by anonymous