Sight Unseen

Sight Unseen

By: Bikerider



I was attracted to Mary from the first day I met her. Her voice hinted at a southern upbringing. I imagined that she was petite, with soft, small features. From my first lesson with her I felt something I had never felt with a woman before.

I was sixteen when I was blinded in a car accident, and after three years of self-pity and anger, I wanted to learn to communicate in my new world. Mary was highly recommended as a teacher, and our first two lessons went well. She seemed committed to teaching me Braille.

It was during our third lesson that Mary took my hand in hers and gently caressed the soft tips of my fingers.

“Do you feel that?” She sat so close I felt her breath on my cheek.

“Yes,” I whispered, “it feels nice.”

“That’s how gently you have to touch the page, the characters, when you read Braille.” She took my hand and guided it to the page. “Now, ever so gently, feel for the characters, let them talk to you.”

Later, when we stopped for a break, I asked, “What do you look like, Mary?”

“I’m five-feet-two, I have brown hair,” she paused, “why don’t you find out for yourself?” She took my hand and we stood facing each other.

“Touch me,” she said, “think about what I look like as you do.”

“Where?” I asked.

“Start at my head and work down.”

I hesitated, I had never touched any one like this before. Mary took my hands and placed them on the sides of her face. Her hair felt soft and smelled of lilac.

“Go ahead,” she said softly, “tell me what you feel, I’ll be silent.”

“Okay,” was all I could say as my hands began to move. I felt her shudder as my fingers gently traced the outside of her ears. My hands slid around to her face and her eyes fluttered under my fingers. "Did I hurt you?" I said as I pulled my hands away.

“No, you’re doing fine.” She took my hands and placed them on her chin.

I felt her slightly parted lips, and I held my breath when her slippery tongue touched my fingers. Surprised, I said, “Your tongue feels warm.”

“Don’t stop,” her voice was husky.

I followed the lines of her throat with the tips of my fingers, feeling the firm cartilage under her satin skin. Mary moaned as my fingers glided over her shoulders. “Your skin is so smooth,” I said as I continued.

Mary remained silent.

Feeling the contour of her breasts, I stopped and pulled my hands away. “Sorry.”

She silently took my hands and gently cupped them over her breasts. She wore no bra and I felt her erect nipples press against my palms. My fingers began to tremble.

“You have firm breasts,” I almost didn’t recognize my voice, “and your nipples are hard.” Mary remained silent, but I heard her breathing deepen.

My breathing came quicker as I felt the tingling between my legs. It was more intense than on those nights when I touched myself in the quiet of my bedroom. I held my breath as Mary unbuttoned her blouse and I heard it fall to the floor. My whole body trembled, but I didn’t want to stop.



One hand cupped her heaving breast as my other hand traveled over her flat stomach and then pushed under the elastic of her skirt. The heat between my legs rose to my stomach, and my knees felt weak when I touched her mound. I heard her gasp as I gently squeezed her nipple and slid my fingers into the coarse hair.

Curling my finger between her lips, I felt the warm lubrication that coated her smooth, erect clit. Her body shuddered, and a soft moan escaped her when I probed further and my finger found her slick opening. I dipped my finger gently inside her wet petals.

“That feels wonderful,” her silence was broken, she spoke slowly.

My breathing deepened when I felt her warm breath caress my face. I probed deeply into her smooth, soft folds until she let out a loud moan, and I felt her elixir spreading over my finger and puddle in my palm. Her hips jerked against my hand as I continued to stroke her.

Mary placed her hands on my shoulders and I felt her moist lips close over mine, her warm tongue darted into my waiting mouth as she pulled me against her. My finger slipped back to her sensitive clit.

We stood facing each other as my finger slowly slid along her wet crease, her lips were close to mine, her breath was warm when she asked. “So tell me, Samantha, what do I look like?”

With my finger still exploring her, I gently kissed her lips. "You look like an angel.”



Word Count 819



Weekly Quickie, round 40 entry for week ending May 7, 2011.