a thing about blindfolds

I found myself in an apartment, his apartment, an evening which just kind of lead me here and here I was surrounded by all things Mathys, being that’s his name and he spoke with the most soft and mesmerising French accent that one can’t help but listen to intently to the exclusion of all else.

This is what happens when I go out with friends, I never know who I’m going to that I hadn’t met before and being the weekend I felt freer than usual to simply go with whatever happens. Especially as I had to be coaxed into going out at all that night being reluctant and feeling decidedly lazy preferring to be a sloth on the sofa watching something suitably horror.

So on this night I climbed into some fairly casual clothes not really paying too much attention beyond brushing my hair glossing my lips and making my eyes slightly less tired-looking.

I chose a distressed rose-coloured button-up front denim mini with waist tie, a white button-up long-sleeved bodice top with low square neck and black jersey bomber zip bomber jacket and my usual no-heel, black leather sock-boots. Basically I probably a little pick’n’mix, which is my usual mode of dress unless I have to make an effort, and tonight I didn’t.

I became number five of a gang of four friends, three girls and a guy and we were to meet up with three other people who turned out to be two guys and a girl, one of them being Mathys whom I once been introduced too a few weeks ago on the university campus. He was a mature student, as am I really, but he was much more in his mid-thirties I think, though I never actually asked.

So here I was at his place having enjoyed the hours leading up to this, just me and him now having accepted his offer of coffee (I can never refuse a coffee). We’d hit it off pretty much straight away having it seemed the same humour, not to mention I was totally taken in by his sonorous voice, the kind you hear only in storytellers who hold you captive in their worlds while they weave their tales of magic and mystery. Perhaps he was a storyteller too, but even though I’d thought I would ask him at some point I never did. I never did because as things do they progressed to me standing facing the curtains in his very tidy but cosy first floor abode.

I didn’t think anything of facing the curtains at first until it became evident soon enough.

No drugs were involved and hardly any drink had I drunk through the evening but there I stood with my eyes closed which he asked me too do. So I did. There had admittedly been a certain frisson between us, a possible attraction I think, certainly me to him, or at least his voice.

I stood in the middle of the room. I closed my eyes. I then felt his hands on my shoulders gently massaging me, relaxing me, and then something brushed across my face teasing back my hair. I reached up a hand to feel the soft folded cotton which was now, it seemed, blindfolding me. I opened my eyes but too late to see much more than the room vanishing into nothing more than obscured light which barely filtered through.

Now I remember. Earlier we had talked about how daring we could be in our private life and I had alluded to some of my sexual adventures which I’d had the pleasure of enjoying, and also he’d asked to tell him one of my fantasies, preferably of the erotic kind. I did and it involved blindfolds and now here I was wearing one courtesy of his careful hands.

He gently tied it around the back of my head careful not to trap my hair then I felt him move away from me, not far, not a foot or two, leaving me there in what was increasingly feeling like open space, a void. A weird feeling of sensory deprivation started to take hold which was almost dizzying, disorienting. I was tempted to move but he said not too and to just feel it, be in the moment, his voice utterly hypnotic.

Then his hands rested again on my shoulders gently massaging, caressing down my arms and easing my already loose jacket from my arms as I felt his draw it away. His touch was comforting providing a sense of focus, something tangible in this semi-deprived state. Removing my jacket felt like being dis-robed by the wind so insubstantial was the motion.

Hi hands slipped down my arms, both sides, around my waist, over my tummy, down my hips pressing against the denim and up again in reverse careful to avoid my breasts until he was back on my shoulders. I felt my legs become light, almost floating me off the floor, or a sense of such at least. Being lured into a kind of heavenly trap. He moved away softly across the carpet and then I heard a swish and knew it was the curtains which at first I thought he was closing them but then remembered they were already, so, it could only mean he was opening them.

I knew there we at least three maybe four lamps on in the room illuminating most corners and certainly illuminating me where I stood central and blindfolded and only feet from the window. He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist pressing both hands into my tummy and we began to sway hearing his breath and feeling it wash around my neck and hairline. I went with the momentum as we danced to silent music. His hands had moved so they touched the underside of my bra and I let him, enjoying this far too much, entranced and intrigued I suppose.

His hands moved imperceptibly as I didn’t realise he was now moving over my breasts breathing more of me into his embrace. I heard myself gasp, as what else could I do. he began to unfasten my white blouse, unbuttoning from top to bottom down the front. I thought I should stop him but didn’t. I knew we were stood now in full view with the curtains I guessed from the swish being wide apart. We were on view to the world outside, to the building beyond and in some ways to the street below as I recalled the glass went from floor to ceiling.

I felt myself lean back against which he probably took as encouragement. I should stop him while I could, feeling another button come free, then another then another. There weren’t many button and sure enough sooner enough they were all undone and he was pulling my shirt out of my skirt and to the side. He seemed to have complete control as I felt myself internally watching each move though I had no idea what move would come next. My blouse came away revealing my plunge-neck bralet beneath clearly as I knew displaying the red heart print on white covering my small breasts. Again his hands slipped over my waist then ever-so briefly down over the front of my skirt. Very quickly he returned to my now bare waist and then my blouse which he pulled from one shoulder then the other, down my arms just like my jacket until it was off and I stood there bindfolded in bra and skirt.

I went to take off the blindfold and he stopped me with a whisper of reassurance in that voice. I couldn’t refuse it, him. His hands quickly rested again on my breasts fondling gently, definitely enticingly as I felt both nipples responding. I felt more like I was being seduced by air he was almost so ephemeral. With his hands on my hips again he encouraged me to sway with him which I did while his hands were now freely moving from hip to breasts to shoulders and back over and over raising my temperature dramatically.

Without warning the tie around my waist was untied, which didn’t affect the skirt as it was mostly just part of the design but it had to be undone to let him do what he did next. Slipping both hands down over the denim he leaned me sightly over until he touched its hem and threatened to lift it up but didn’t. Around my waist then back to the front where he repeated what he had with my blouse, first the top button which loosened it around my hips, then the second, then the third. I felt I should stop him again but found myself not being able too. I needed to know, as he seemed to well-know how far he would go, how far he could push me to go.

Another button and the skirt was beginning to lose its grip on my hips as I held it up while he continued not compelled to top his progress to undressing me: undressing me in front of this open window to the outside world in the dark of night.

I began to feel nervous as I felt the last button unfasten, still holding it to my he whispered for me to let go. I took a breath, waited, wondered what I was doing, but, I had to know I had to know how far would I go. I surrendered my grip on the denim and he pulled it away completely leaving me there in my underwear, matching white bralet and low-rise briefs with small red hearts printed on them. I didn’t wear stocking, nor tights, nor legging that night so my legs were bare as they had been already.

The blindfold remained as I did standing in the room exposed now not only to him but to the street and buildings beyond, to the night and all of its demons and devils. Around my hips again his hands laid feeling my curves through them and over my waist and taking his time on my breasts once more, hungrily it seemed from his breathing which mine was beginning to match. On my hips he spread his fingers down the front just an inch away from my sex beneath, not touching but teasing, tracing the outline as though tempting me out of some shadows. I was in no shadows but lighted by lamps on show it seemed, to him, Mathys, at least.

For a while we stayed like this, close behind me caressing me, almost but not quite every inch, fingers dancing making my body respond, making me fall into his hands completely. I felt light-headed as fingers slipped down one strap from one shoulder, then the other strap, then I felt behind him fumbling with the bras hooks. Why are men always rubbish at undoing bras? This thought distracted me as he finally unhooked it and I raised my arms automatically to hold it in place covering my breasts until he told me to let it go, let it go.

I dropped my arms to my tummy as he pulled my it down my arms freeing my nipples and discarded that along with the blouse and skirt no doubt, pulling my arms behind me, no roughly, gently encouraging making my chest more prominent as there I was naked like most of the rest of me. All I felt was his breath on my neck, his hands holding my wrists until he let go and run them over my bare breasts enjoying me to the full as I knew my nipples would now be pronounced over which his fingers enjoyed taking their time. I as excited, inside and out, I found it hard to hide, it was obvious, I was totally defeated and submitting to wherever this took me. I had to know, I had to know. He insisted without insisting, he seemed to be expert at that.

He urged me one step forward, I guessed one step closer to the window now in just my knickers. letting him explore me from behind his hands finding almost everywhere, everywhere except… not yet.

We stood like that for minutes on end it seemed, me growing ever-more aroused and warmed and exposed it seems too when his fingers slipped under the waist of my knickers, the only thing I had left and moved inside them finding there way there, just there, where I knew already I was moist and overheating I crouched slightly at his touch and he pulled me upright and slipped his whole hand inside and felt me boldly, my bare skin, my mound, the shape of my sex. I was dazed and spinning.

His other hand slipped under the elastic and he began pulled them away from my hips at which I almost protested, which considering how far we had gone would have been strange so, he continued without me stopping him nervously letting events take over, letting him take over. They came away from my hips, from my buttocks, from my warm, moistening thighs easily and I stepped out of them.

There I stood utterly naked in front of the window, curtains wide open, even later into the dark, dark night with the lamps spotlighting my every move and inch of my pale skin. He stripped me for the moon to see and perhaps anyone else who happened to be watching. How would I have known, I still wore the blindfold. Mathys’s hands moved over me without hindrance nor reluctance now exploring me to the full making me shiver and squirm and sway and feel to alive He was right, how far would I go: clearly at least this far. But he wanted to go further.

Not content with stripping and exposing me to the window and the night beyond he leaned me over where my hands found a high table I think, from what I remembered of the layout of the room, now having my eyes covered I wasn’t entirely sure. I was naked, I knew I was naked even though I couldn’t see, I knew I was stood with my all for Mathys to see and drink in. I leaned there for a minute or so as I felt him stood behind me thinking that nothing was happening. The rooms air rested on my bare skin, my limbs, nipples, hips, thighs, knees. A sense of being vulnerable run through my thoughts.

All of a sudden his hand we between my thighs, feeling me there while he encouraged my legs apart where I stood leaning. His fingering so delicate, not entering, just stroking, tracing, finding how wet I’d become, how aroused I clearly was by this bizarre turn of events. He touched me so sensitively I shuddered with a growing pleasure coursing through my blood. He was closer when I felt between my legs something not his fingers or hand come into contact with my pink flushed folds, it was his erection which I’d never seen but now felt it teasing me, tempting me backwards to meet it, to swallow him. he didn’t wait but slowly edged his tangibly thick sex into my thighs sliding as easily as he could into my tightness. I braced myself with both hands knowing I was facing less than a foot from the glass as he entered me like liquid despite me beginning to fee stretched as my muscles contracted around it but also gave to his small, delicate motions.

I felt the head slip fully inside me, I felt relief as he kept going then easing back, then forward again, deeper, then deeper, then more of him entered me, found its way easily into my body, into my hips, parting my intimacy forcing my breath into barely-contained rhythms. I know I was now pushing backwards onto his long intrusion not stopping to invade my inner core filling me with its girth, its length, its own glistening smearing his precum liberally along my insides. Around me his arms reached and hands grabbed my breasts pulling me against him and into my ear he whispered one word, only speaking the once, one solitary word, “slut”.

I couldn’t be offended as he said it in such as way as to make it sound like the most beautiful word in the English language. It hung in the air between us, barely audible but as clear as the window into front of me which I still couldn’t actually see but knew was there in all its clarity. It resonated enticing my body further into the dance we shared. I could feel the warmth of his groin as it brushed solicitously against mine, his thighs glancing mine, his palms almost searing my skin and far from tentative.

It took a minute or two to find a reciprocal pace but then we had it, were one as he pushed himself wholly against me gripping me, taking me, lightly easing me back, my hands left the table and I felt suspended though my feet still firmly on the floor. His hands slipped into my elbows and bent me forward gathering passion between his legs as I felt the sweat, or was it my own nectar, trickling from my inner thigh. I felt my entire body flushed of any inhibitions despite still being wildly conscious of the open curtains, I was sure it was private: or was it?

All at once he stopped, pulled me bolt upright and held his hand barely to my neck. I felt his erection embedded, pulsing but not in orgasm; not yet, not yet. He kissed my neck as his hips began at first to move again, a hairs-breadth then growing along with his sex feeling its heat along my insides, probing, beginning to hasten, he leaned me over again, I gripped the table pressing my thighs to his which now came more definite but still with such practised finesse. I felt myself collapsing within and then convulsing right down to my toes into the floor as my orgasm overwhelmed me making me grip him tighter feeling it almost bruisingly taking me further: how far will I go, how far will I go?

He found my breasts again and with one, two then three mighty thrusts I knew he was cumming, emptying his being into me, finding his own lust unleashed to ecstatic effect. It made me cum again, albeit like an aftershock, a mere tremor as though shy to admit such a brazen act. He liberally pulsed more into me until there wasn’t anything left but stillness, inert inside me until I loosened my grip and he did his slumping over me where for a moment I bore his weight like a rag doll.

In one final act of intimacy he ran his hand down my tummy tracing a line between my belly button and mound and ran one finger over my now shockingly-sensitive sex feeling our combined juices smeared there. He brought his finger to my mouth and pushed it inside where I tasted us, our act of conventional defiance fulfilled. For a moment we were nowhere, lost in space, beyond the reach of the world outside, of any eyes which may have strayed to the window to find us there in full view. I was naked, grinning, panting, he was almost naked, also grinning, also panting. We let the animal, or was it merely human, side of our selves drink of our primal instincts as deep as it gets.

I heard it said that resistance I futile, it certainly was this night.

(model: me)

© Emmaleela