My first overtly sexual act was with a fellow blind student in the 6th form. I really loved his voice, his confidence, unlike me he came from a family of blind people so saw himself as perfectly normal. He taught me to play a version of pool, how to sneak out of boarding school to the pub, and how to enjoy being touched. He was gay, he and his older sighted boyfriend used to ‘borrow’ my room; leaving a heady mix of scents only in the hindsight of my own development do I now understand.
His ‘safety’ made him easy to talk to, his open expression of his own lifestyle so arousing (he left me with the joy of listening to men fuck that I have relished only twice in my life) that questions tumbled from me. Oral sex in particular as that seemed to be such a turn on for him. When we’d curl up together on my sofa he would describe in detail how his boyfriend ‘did it’, blushing giggles covering a stickiness I wasn’t sure about and an uncomfortable squirming.
‘That’ conversation came a few nights later. He was supposed to have been borrowing my room but for some reason the boyfriend never showed. I made us squash, tried to be all grown up, albeit it at 17 I wasn’t the most grown up when it came to sex. A virgin, un kissed save a few missed lips at school discos. If you haven’t kissed a blind person the trick is you have to do all the leading. Holding back of the head, or palms on each cheek pulling them to you. Trust me they won’t have spotted your come hither eyes and I for one never attempt it unless I am absolutely sure where you are…! Even then I’ve snogged a few noses in my time …. But he, so much more assured despite being a few months younger, turned the conversation to my sexuality effortlessly; my constant mantra then was eeew girls,,, no! We talked about my fear of catching something, AIDS tombstones were part of my growing up, about getting pregnant. The cautionary tale of the girl in upper sixth who was pregnant and the social workers hovering around like vultures to rip the baby away as soon as she dropped. Blindies aren’t allowed to keep babies and she was now sure to be in the ‘system’ a fate worse than death.
Throughout our chatter I remember his warmth as squash finished, we somehow lay spooned together his hand casually easing my thighs apart. It was so natural. A kiss, tongues exploring clumsily, saliva tasting of too strong cheap VG Orange. Missing mouths catching cheeks, and a boyish hand rubbing between my legs. Sadly time and other memories have robbed me of the erotic enjoyment of the word or deeds that found me straddling his face stretched over the head board as he licked hard and deep hands gripping my buttocks. I can recall the smell of plaster and old paint, cumming hard pushing down on him rocking over his chin the angle of my pudendum pulling at the hood splaying my clit making me want all over again. As an aside a finger fuck with the heel of your hand pressed thus causes the best cum even all these years later.
He coughed I remember, breaking the spell.
Casually wriggled out telling me something along the lines of my cum wasn’t as good as Robbie’s and left.
Followed by tears into my pillow, fears of being outed as a bad girl, easy. The almost vomit inducing walk to class the next day, his cheery hello as if nothing had happened at all.
They continued to borrow my room till I left school. Last I heard some 20 years ago they were still together and living in Leicester.