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I saw the blind girl slowly making her way down the length of the Echelon Mall’s food court, tapping along with her white cane, and kind of dancing from foot to foot. Every few tables, she had to ask directions, and she wasn’t getting much help, because of the Pre-Christmas Sale rush of bad-tempered shoppers.
Brunette, with short brown hair, she was wearing a t-shirt and somehow not-quite-matching jeans, with a big belt, and also not-quite-matching boots.
I guessed, based on experience, that she was doing the ‘I-just-gotta-take-a-piss-and-I-gotta-go-RIGHT-NOW’ dance. Been there, done that.
Coming up behind her, I just quietly said, “Miss, can I help get you where you want to go?”
She started, then calmed, and said, “Can you get me to the ladies’ room, please?”
“OK,” I answered. “Take hold of my forearm, here on your left side. That leaves your cane free on the right. We can both hold your shopping bags.”
She did, and we started. I signaled changes in direction with my forearm, her hand cool and with a light touch on top. But, when we approached the bathrooms, I could see that there was a long line of other women, waiting outside, and I knew my chance-met charge wouldn’t make it, standing there, in a group of snarling-mad females.
“Uh, miss,” I said, as I explained what I saw, “there’s an alternative, but you’d have to trust me, and we’ve never met. I’m Tom Cattus—yes, I know what that means—but I could give you references, except that I don’t have them with me and they’re not in Braille. I’m trying to say that you could make your blindness work for you, and use the men’s room, if I go along and run interference, so to speak.”
Her grip tightened a little, and I heard her stifle a giggle, as she said, “Sure, let’s go.”
So, I guided her into the entrance to the men’s restroom, braving catcalls from the other women of ‘slut,’ and ‘whore.’ As we passed the corner, I called out, “Hey, guys, I’m bringing a lady in here. She’s blind. She can’t see a thing. But, she really needs to go, real bad. Is there a stall open?”
We turned the corner, and about a dozen men were there, using the urinals or washing up. To a man, they all went dead quiet, turned to look, and then one man smiled, saying, “The handicapped stall’s open. Guide her in there.”
Acting on it, I directed my new charge through the door, and over to the seat, flipping the seat down (guys never do that). I said, as she started to undo her jeans, “The paper is to your right. I’ll just leave your packages here, and step out … .”
Interrupting me, she firmly said, “No. Stay here. Put the packages down and then help me with this belt.”
Jaw dropping, I carefully placed her packages on the baby-changing table in the stall, and then gingerly bent to unfastened the complex clasp on her belt. As I freed it, her jeans flipped open and slid down to her knees, and I found myself looking at a nearly transparent Brazilian tanga (thong), just barely not covering her totally shaved pussy. She pulled down the tanga and sat, starting to piss with a vengeance, long and almost loud, as she sighed.
Then I heard her giggle again, as she said, “I hope you liked what you saw, ’cause I liked showing it to you.”
I gulped, and finally found my voice, suddenly gone dry, saying, “Well, yeah, I did, that is, I …”
She giggled again, and said, “I almost never get a chance to tease a guy, and I liked it.”
Reaching to her right, she got out a wad of paper, and wiped herself, spreading her thighs wide to do so, cocking her ear over to get a better chance of my gasping, as I stared at her shaven pussy. She stood, and made quite a show about replacing her thong (what there was of it) and pulling up her jeans. She even made me help do up her belt clasp again.
Then, after exiting the stall, she had me direct her to the wash area, and washed her hands. Starting toward the entrance, with my help, she turned, and called out, “Hey, guys!” In one quick motion, she pulled up her t-shirt top, exposing her pretty bare boobs. She held that pose, slowly turning in a complete circle, in dead silence. Then she turned again, dropped her top, and we both left the men’s restroom, giggling and laughing.
Not wanting this encounter to end, I asked, “Where to now, pretty girl?”
She answered, “Some place to eat, but not in the food court. Know any place like that?”
I said, “Yes, but you’d have to trust me, again, to take you there, and ride in a sidecar rig, attached to a motorbike.”
“Let’s go, Mr. Tomcat,” she laughed aloud.
A little belatedly, I asked, “By the way, uh, what’s your name?”
Giggling, she said, “You’ve seen my thong, my pussy and looked at my bare, braless tits, and NOW you’re asking for my illegal bahis name. It’s Danni-with-an-‘i’.”
I walked Danni-with-an-i out into the parking lot, using the same forearm-guide as before, and directed her how to get in to the sidecar. She belted herself in, collapsed her cane, and called out, “Let’s roll!”
About 10 minutes later, we were at a small Thai restaurant. Another half hour later, we were eating fire-hot Thai food, complete from soup that they’re the only ones who know why dogs hang their heads out the window of a fast-moving car.”
She threw her head back and giggled.
“Anyway, John taught me a lot about being blind—he had double detached retinas when he was in his 30’s—particularly about needing to be a messy eater. So, I thought I’d help out a bit, before you had to, maybe, embarrass yourself. Did I screw up?”
She giggled again, and said, “No, Tom Cat, you didn’t screw up.”
Speaking on a bit, she continued, “Tell me something about yourself,” as she laid her fingertips on my open palm. Since I couldn’t gesture when I spoke, I left it there. Somehow, with just facial expressions, nods, and a few spoken words of encouragement, she drew my recent living history out of me. About my former over-spending wife. About the text messages from her and my kids. About the fraudulent, forged divorce. About my nomadic travels on the motorbike-and-sidecar rig.
All I held back was the source of my income, substituting a vague job as a traveling ‘consultant.’
She nodded, smiled, and said, “That’s kind of a sad tale, and about 98 percent accurate. You told the truth, except about the ‘consultant’ bit. You lied about that.”
She reached up, pretty accurately, and pushed my open mouth shut with her still-cool finger-tips. “Look here, Tom Cattus, I’ve been listening with a hyper-developed hearing, and holding on to your hand and palm. I can tell, immediately, by sound and touch and smell and taste, when a person—particularly a male person—goes off the ‘truth wagon.'”
She went on, “I’ve got to be sooo careful, especially with guys, ’cause they lie a lot. Little blind girl gets scammed or raped and can’t even describe her attackers, except by their voice. So I’ve learned to really listen—not just to words—and besides, I had my hand on yours, so I could feel the little tremors that mean ‘lie’.”
“Oh, yeah,” she added, “my touch tells me you’re a good guy, 98% honest, probably hot for my little blind butt … particularly now that I’ve teased you with my tits, thong and pussy … but not at all interested in rape or scamming. Probably sexy as hell. Just my type.”
“So, you’re not a ‘consultant,’ but you can travel around the country, and you can stay in good motels, hotels and residence inns. Deduction tells me that you have an independent source of money, and you make more than you can spend. Since you’re a ‘good guy,’ and you know there are a lot of scams, men, and particularly women, that would dearly love to take most or all of it away, I don’t blame you for going ‘off’ the truth’ a little.”
She added, “Close your mouth again, dear man, the bugs will get in. Now stick to the absolute truth. Did you like to see me topless in the guy’s bathroom? Did you like what you saw in the stall?”
I stuttered out, “uh, well, I … yes, I did, damn it.”
She said, “OK. Now see here, Tom Cat, I’d really like to sway
forward and let my top fall open and let you take a long look down my top and my two pretty titties, swinging and panting for your touch. But, they’re all enclosed in this ratty t-shirt top, and I just can’t do the ‘girls-gone-wild’ shirt-pull-up, titty show-off here, even though I’m braless. I can’t drop my jeans and let you play with my pussy, either, though I’d like it, too.”
“So, can we go out and do some more shopping? Like, do you know of a Victoria’s Secret place someplace that we can get to in an hour or so. And maybe a really sexy-bra shop for some really scandalous outfits, that you could help me buy and then model for you? What about it?”
We were out the door in ten minutes (I left a massive cash tip, no change), and rolling in another five. Twice, during the twenty minute run up Springdale Road and east on NJ 73, when we stopped for a light, she did pull up her t-shirt for a ‘girls-gone-wild’ titty flash, yelling and squealing outrageously.
Men are supposed to be really out-of-place in a women’s lingerie place, but I wasn’t. I knew about female sizing, cup and band, and the difference between nylon, cotton, linen, wool and silk, plus the synthetics. I knew about garter belts, thigh-highs and suspender-tights. I knew about bikinis, baby-dolls, bustiers and all the other stuff that keeps going up in price as the amount of coverage illegal bahis siteleri decreases and the see-through-ness increases.
Thus, I was able to guide my smallish (I estimated no taller than 5′ 2″ and slender, but not skinny) blind companion around the store, and helped her choose mix-and-match colors, fabrics and styles.
I calmly waited outside the changing-room doors, as she repeatedly entered, exited to my gaze, took notice of my comments (verbal and non verbal), and re-entered. I just got hold of a chair, and waited out the shopping frenzy (particularly when I told her that I’d be buying what she chose. I got NO argument, just a quick wet, lots-of-tongue kiss on the cheek, and renewed shopping ferocity.)
We left the store with two large bags of ‘girl-stuff.’ I was particularly taken with a set of pedal-pusher type pants, off-white, spandex-woven and skin tight, and a ‘French-cut’ sleeveless blouse, that had just two buttons, set way down by her deep navel. Ummm hmmm …
We headed back northwest on NJ 73 to this little semi-sexy news stand (plus porno and peep shows). I knew they had a small selection of really kinky clothes. When we got there, I had to explain in detail some of the items available. Then, she bought a packaged fishnet outfit, in small size, featuring a halter neck, no back, open crotch and butt, but with net down to her ankles. Disappearing into the girl’s bathroom (there was one), she emerged in that fishnet outfit, with the skin-tight pants, the sleeveless French-cut blouse and little ‘fuck-me’ stiletto sandals on.
On my arm, she got back in the sidecar, and we drove off, leaving a comment from one of the gay guys behind us: “What a babe. Oh, God, please make me straight for just one hour!”
At a Wawa, where we stopped for a bottle of water apiece, she asked, “Your place or mine?”
I answered, “Mine is a residence inn, across the bridge, in Philadelphia. Where’s yours?”
She said, “Here in Cherry Hill.” She gave me her address, and I plugged it into my handlebar-mounted GPS system. This told me I was about five minutes away, so that settled where we’d finish up.
Most houses in Cherry hill, New Jersey, are made to a 1960’s cookie-cutter style: that of a 1½-story arrangement, morphed endlessly all over. Interspersed, rarely, are small, single-level, ranch-style places of about 500 to 800 square feet. These don’t sell well anymore. My blind companion had one of these.
I pulled into her driveway, and, after she stepped out, maneuvered the suddenly clumsy rig around to face outwards, down the driveway.
Looking up, I saw her moving her hands under her blouse. Not being able to raise an eyebrow (since she couldn’t see it), I said, “Do you need help?”
“Oh, no, I can get this myself. I’m just pulling my hard nipples into the mesh of the cat-suit, fixin’ things so that they’re bare and poke out, so it looks even more sexy. You’ll see.”
She quickly added, “You’ve really got to keep your mouth closed, lover, or the bugs will get in.”
She gestured me into her home, and carefully shut the door behind us, putting her white cane down on a small table.
She said, “Now I’m inside, I know ever inch of this place. My only rule is, please don’t move anything, or I’ll trip over it.”
“I usually don’t put on any lights, but for you,” and reached over to turn on a switch. Soft light flooded the living area. She continued, “For you, we’ll have lots of light, so you can see me show off.”
She added, “I have to be so careful that I almost never get a chance to show off, and I’m gonna like doing it … and so will you. And, you know what? I’m not going to stop showing off, just because we’re making love, in my bed area.”
She went on, smoothing her blouse against her fishnet cat-suit, “I asked for complete honesty from you, and I got it. Now, you’ll get it from me. I want you to take off all your clothes and sit down in that chair, while I take off my clothes and model for you in my fishnets and my pretty bare skin. I wanna feel your hard cock on my skin. I want to slither all over you and feel you and have you feel and taste me. Then I want us to make love in the bed area, where I’ll lead you.”
“I’m usually not a screamer, but I am a talker and I cum lots of times. I like to have a hard cock deep inside me, and it almost never happens. I like my sex slow and deep, and then hard and fast. My breasts and nipples are very sensitive, and I like them kissed and touched. I’m on the pill, so I want you to cum into me.”
She finished, “I want you to sleep with me tonight, have breakfast with me tomorrow, and—I hope—lots of more nights to come.”
All I could say was, “My God!”
She grinned, saying, “Oh, yeah, one last thing. canlı bahis siteleri Since I can’t see, you’ll have to be pretty explicit about what you want me to do and, if you want sex—any kind of sex—you’ll have to ask me, outright.”
“Say something like, ‘Danni, I’m horny, suck on my dick,’ or, ‘Danni, pull up your skirt so I can look at your pussy before I fuck you.’ Or, you can touch me with your hard penis on my body … all over my body. I think you’ll like that.”
I just gasped and gulped.
Stepping forward, she slowly and deliciously wrapped her arms around my neck, and drew my head down for a long, wet, lots-of-tongue kiss. Several times. I was gently pushed back until I was sort-of tripped and was gently guided back and down into an overstuffed, wing-backed chair.
She disengaged as I fell into the seat, and then smiled wickedly, saying, “Watch me, Thomas Cattus. I want this to be right. Oh, yes, and you’d better strip to the skin, before I start. Remember, I can’t see you … but I can tell that your cock is probably about erect, and so you’d better get out of those trousers and underwear, before your cock gets caught on the waistband.”
My suddenly stiff cock did get caught on the waistband of my trousers. I grunted to get it off, plus shoes, socks, shirt and undershirt. I felt a little funny, butt naked in a girl’s living room, with the still-dressed girl standing over me. That is, until she giggled again, saying, “Oh, yes, you’re erect. I heard your stiff cock spring free from your pants. I’m going to feel soooo good, when I sit on your lap, and let you caress my pussy wetness with that cock.”
I groaned a little, in anticipation.
Standing in front of me, she gently unfastened the two buttons, down at her navel level and below, that barely didn’t hold her silk blouse closed. Moving her shoulders and arms, the blouse whispered off her shoulders and fell into a silk puddle at her feet.
She casually kicked it away.
Danni stood there, in her fishnet halter top, shoulders and arms bare, small, well-formed breasts bare under the mesh … and her rigid, engorged nipple-tips pocking through the mesh. I reached up and gently slid my fingertips across both of these dark buds of erotic flesh.”
“I expected her to jump at the touch, but, instead, she sighed, saying, “Oh, yes, that’s right, I need to be touched. Touch me lots. Just a few more minutes and you won’t even have to reach up … they’ll be right there at your lips.”
Putting one slim leg and foot on the left arm of the chair, she balanced on her remaining foot, and started to undo the strap of her ‘fuck-me’ heels. I reached to help her, and she gently pushed me away, saying, “No. Watch my boobs, instead. Danni knows how to balance without eyes. Watch my tits swing. They’re for you. All for you.”
She drew off one shoe and then the other, casually pitching them in the same direction as her blouse. Then, again, one leg at a time, she unzipped up the small, hidden zipper that allowed her to get into the oh-so-tight-pants. Working carefully, while slowly turning around three times, she unzipped the waist zipper, and peeled the white spandex off.
She finished with her butt toward me, and I saw the loose back portion of the figure-eight opening that exposed her anal opening. She straightened, and I saw that the mesh cat-suit was so deeply cut out that half her butt crack was exposed, as well as her lovely back, shoulders, neck and arms.
She finished turning, and I looked directly at her totally bare pussy. She took both hands, fingers spread, and pulled apart her outer vaginal lips, and the inner lips, to display her totally bare pussy, which was shining with wetness. It was unmistakably evidence that she was drenched, lubricated and wet for penetration.
My cock twitched, and I groaned again.
“Soon, soon, you’ll be inside me, and we’ll both love it when you go there. First, though, my sighted lover, here I am, ready to kiss and hold.”
She half-fell into my lap. I had a nearly naked sightless woman on my lap, dressed only in mesh, my hard cock firmly running up her but crack, and her lovely wet pussy, belly, shoulders and breasts ready for my touch.
So I did.
Carefully but forcefully, I grasped both breasts, and delicately mauled them, but not freeing the nipples from the mesh of the fishnet fabric. Danni groaned and sighed, directing my attention to one and then the other. I sucked on her nipples and roughly licked them, as they were surrounded by the open-weave cloth. She sighed some more, and stiffened just a little, then relaxed.
She turned her face up to mine, and said, “I came. Just a little. Keep making love to me.”
Reaching down, I worked my hard and pre-cum-dribbling cock out of her butt crack, around and up—bypassing her soaked pussy opening—and laid it along the length of her open pussy. The bulb-head of my penis was close to her clit, as I continued to kiss one nipple and pull-twist-tug at the other.
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