by Brandon Witt
I felt like throwing my hands up in the air. “What? How the hell can you say that about me? You are so fucking gorgeous that it makes my teeth ache. You’re like superhot. I would’ve jumped you the first day I met you if you had given me the green light. And since I’ve come to know you, I like you even more. You’re the one who gets to pick and choose.” I was louder now, the lid on my temper blowing off.
“But I’m blind!” Patrick yelled back.
“So what the fuck does that matter?” It felt like I was bashing my head against a brick wall. What the fuck was his problem with his blindness? I stormed to my feet, unable to sit still anymore.
“What happens if I embarrass you in public?”
I stopped and glanced heavenward for inspiration. I felt like shaking the guy, but instead I pulled in a couple of deep breaths and scrubbed my face with my hands to control myself. I tried again, this time with a rational voice. “Can we forget the blind thing for a moment? Just tell me this—do you want to go out on a date with me?”
I prayed desperately for him to say yes, but my heart stuttered for a moment when I thought he would say no. “Yes. Of course I do,” he replied, calming down as well. “But why would you want to go on a date with me?”
Was the guy blind? Well, of course he was, but I meant was he internally blind? Hadn’t I made myself clear about how much I wanted to be with him—and not just for a couple of nights or a bit of slap-and-tickle every week? I wanted….
Shit! I wanted the whole-hog relationship thing! When the hell did I fall for him?
I slapped a nearby wall in frustration. “Because I like you. Because you’re gorgeous. Because I want to spend time with you. Because I just like being with you.” I ticked off the top four on my list of six hundred and fifty-eight reasons I would want to go on a date with Patrick.
He quickly shrugged off my answer and said, “And I sometimes trip over things and I always manage to knock something off the table. People also treat me like I’m deaf as well as blind. I’m an embarrassment to be seen with.”
My eyes got really wide then and shocked I asked, “Who the hell said that about you?”
Patrick shrugged again. “Just someone.”
“Someone who didn’t like you, obviously.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe my arse. What they said was patently untrue and extremely mean.”
Patrick’s blue eyes darted to the side and he mumbled, “Maybe they said it when they were breaking up with me.”
I snorted.
His face swung in my direction and he asked, “So you don’t mind if I trip up a curb and go sprawling in the middle of a crowd?”
“Hmm.” I pretended to think about it for a minute. “Do you hurt yourself when you do this hypothetical fall?”
He growled through gritted teeth, “No. That’s not the point.”
“Oh.” I was trying not to giggle at his cute little scowl—not that I’d ever do something so girly as to giggle in the first place. “Well, if you scrape your knees I have a lot of practice at kissing boo-boos better. So that’s not going to bother me. It would bother me if you got a hole in your pants, though, because I’m useless at sewing. I can never get the needle and thread to go where I want.”
“Jake….” His tone was a warning to me.
“And unquestionably if you take a header in front of me, I’ll be extremely happy to check you out with your cute arse in the air. In fact, I might even trip you myself in order to get a picture of it to take to bed on cold, lonely nights.”
“Jake….”
“But don’t worry, I can control myself in public and I won’t jump your bones right then and there. I do have some dignity.”
“Jake!” he yelled, exasperated.
“What?”
“I mean that sometimes people laugh and point at me when something goes wrong. How are you going to deal with that?”
I scraped my fingernails through the stubble on my cheek. “Yeah. That’s going to be a bit of a problem. But you have money, don’t you?”
“Huh?” It was Patrick’s turn to be confused.
“Money for bail, I mean,” I said with a grin. “When I punch the arseholes who think that laughing at the blind guy is acceptable. You’ll come and bail me out, won’t you? Naturally I’ll pay you back. But you may have to wait a couple of years because there’s a line of people wanting money off me.” My tone lowered as I stepped up behind Patrick, who was still sitting at the table over the remains of our meal. “Unless, of course, you’d take payment in sex?”
Just like that the atmosphere in the room became thick and laden with suggestive intent. Patrick shivered against me.
“I’d become your willing slave in the bedroom, if you wanted to,” I told him as I brought my lips down to the sensitive skin under his ear. I felt him shiver in response. “I’d be your anything.”
He didn’t know how close that was to a vow.
I ignored the dishes—hell, the man had a housekeeper, didn’t he? Let the housekeeper do the dishes tomorrow—and led Patrick into the bedroom, halting at the foot of his bed, which I’d made up only hours previously with nice, clean sheets. I kissed him softly on the mouth and then traced a line of kisses across his cheek and down his jawbone. The light scratch of stubble against my lips and tongue only heightened my senses, telling me I was caressing a hot, horny guy.
Surprisingly, after Patrick’s aggression the night before, he stood almost timidly in my arms as I gently undid the buttons on his shirt. His chest hair was pale and sparse, practically invisible until you got up close and explored with your fingers and tongue. And explore I did. I ran a trail of wet kisses down the center of his chest until I reached his belly button, circling lightly before reversing and finding his sensitive nub with my mouth. I sucked hard on his flesh, bringing his left nipple to attention, then moving to its twin and repeating the gesture. Patrick moaned low in his throat and ran his fingers down my spine.
In the half light of the room I could see his trousers tenting forward and I cupped his package, feeling him through the material. Everything about Patrick aroused me—his thick cock, his furry balls, his blond pubic hair, his wiry body, even his ticklish feet. I knew that even if I had the pleasure of enjoying him every night for the next year, I would still be aroused by the sight of him standing still and waiting for my loving attention.
I quickly unbuckled his belt and pulled his hardness out where I could see, running my fingers down the length of his shaft before urging him to sit on the edge of the bed so I could remove his shoes. I bent down, undoing his laces while watching his flesh bob just inches from my mouth.
“Bloody hell, Patrick,” I grumbled. “You don’t know what the sight of you sitting there with that huge boner does to me.”
He smiled and patted me on the head. “You don’t know what the smell of your arousal does to me.”
I stopped abruptly where I was tugging off his socks. “You can smell my arousal?”
“Definitely.”
“Huh. Nothing much gets past the blind man, does it?” I stood quickly and shed my clothes. My dick was like a compass, pointing directly toward the man I wanted. He simply sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for me with a small grin playing around his mouth. I stepped closer until our knees were brushing together. Now it was his mouth just inches from the head of my cock. “So what does aroused male smell like?” I queried.
He placed his hands on my hips and tugged me forward the last precious inches. “Delicious,” he answered and sucked me in deep.
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” I moaned as the warmth of his mouth encircled me. Nothing compared to the heat of a willing man’s mouth, and nothing on this earth could move me more than the sight of Patrick’s mouth stretched wide while I slid in and out of his wetness. I’d had lovers previously to whom oral sex was a chore, something to be done quickly before they could get their pleasure. Patrick didn’t think that way and I continuously praised the stars for that. Anal sex i
s fabulous, don’t get me wrong, and I love both giving and receiving, but to push your erection into a mouth and watch the inches of your flesh disappear and then reappear is just heaven for me.
Maybe it’s the naughtiness of it. Maybe it’s because it’s a gift to the taker. Maybe it’s because it’s just fucking great.
Patrick sucked hard and used his tongue on me, licking furiously before sucking me down for another couple of jabs.
“Ooh, baby. You’re so good at that.”
The loud slurp and low moan I received in reply was like music to my ears. I rocked forward, carefully not going too deep. Nothing kills the mood more than coughing and spluttering everywhere. He ran one hand up my stomach, feeling my skin lightly, while he moved his other hand deeper around me until he found my crease.
“God, yes. Oh, Patrick.”
With one hand he pulled at my butt cheek, opening me up while he explored with the other hand. He found my hole without trouble and pushed a fingertip in. That area was fucking sensitive and I gasped as he moved in and out of my pucker, just penetrating with his fingertip as there was no lube to slick the way.
“You have about two seconds, Patrick. Either pull off now or I’m coming in your mouth, baby.”
With that warning I thrust twice more before ejaculating. Patrick took the first hit in his mouth before licking his way down my length so that the next spurt sprayed up and hit him across the face and in his hair. The sight was fascinating. I felt as if it branded him as belonging to me. Any man who willingly wore my come across his face must belong solely to me.
He continued to nibble my length, licking wetly at my nuts while I orgasmed. I must’ve blanked for a couple of seconds because I came to and he was holding my hips, looking up at me with an inquiring expression.
“You okay?” he asked. I found enough wit to murmur and nod yes.
My legs were jelly and my head spinning from the force of my pleasure, so I sank down face-first on the bed next to him. I heard him chuckle but was so wasted I couldn’t respond. Vaguely I could hear him moving around the room, but I didn’t pay any attention. I didn’t know if he had come or not—I had been too busy staring at his face to wonder what his dick was doing—and was wondering idly if he wanted to roll me over and use my mouth now, when his hand on my arse brought my spinning senses to a standstill.
“Shh,” he hushed me as I tried to move. “You stay there, just like that, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“The rest” turned out to be a condom on Patrick’s cock, all slicked up and ready to go, and his fingers in my arse. He pulled me gently to my knees and then dropped down on the bed beside me. I felt the wetness of his fingers as he explored my crease and perineum, before finally he sank a thick finger into my entrance. I groaned and pushed back against his hand. I felt so boneless that the sensation simply increased the pleasure.
Patrick was whispering dirty words to me, making my limp cock twitch and begin to fill again. “Do you like that? Yes? I think you’re a sex machine. You feel simply fantastic, as if you were made just for me, just for my pleasure. Do you think you can take two fingers now? Hmm? Let us see. Yes, that’s it. I swear your body was made for love. I never wished so hard to be able to see than at this moment. I’d love to see you with your arse in the air, begging for my fingers. I’d love to be able to see my fingers penetrate you, sliding in your warm, welcoming body. You feel so good, now let me see if I can make you feel even better. Where’s that spot?”
By this time I was biting the pillow to keep from screaming as his fingers rubbed and stretched. So when Patrick reached and found my prostate, I yelled loudly.
“Oh, fucking Jesus!”
He chuckled and sighed, “I guess I can make you feel better, after all. That’s it, love. Ride my fingers. Make sure you’re all ready for me because I’m going to mount you and ride you so hard you’re going to be hitting that wall that’s at least a meter in front of you.”
I choked on my anticipation. “Do it. Do it now, Patrick.”
He moved into position and lined himself up. First there was the pressure of his cock against my pucker, then the delicious bite of strain as he pushed his entire length in. He wasn’t a small man and the feeling of fullness required a bit of adjustment for an endless moment. I could feel his hips up against my buttocks and I knew he had slid his whole rod in. I wished I had a photo of it.
He stayed there, waiting for me to adjust to his size. “You okay?”
I panted, trying to unscramble my brain enough to talk. “Are you going to do me hard?” I asked.
He rubbed my back, feeling the strain of my muscles as I held the position he wanted. His hands moved around my body and palmed my new erection. “Jake, I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’ll never want me to stop. I’m going to ruin you for any other man. You’ll never want another cock apart from mine.”
He didn’t know it, but he’d already ruined me. “Do it, then.”
He started out slow, just a couple of thrusts in and out to make sure I was ready, but then he grabbed my hipbones in his hands and slammed home. With every plunge I was pushed into the bedding, my body absorbing the shock and the pleasure even as he was already withdrawing to dive in again. I could feel the brush of his scrotum as he shoved himself in my tight channel, his balls brushing up against mine.
It was pleasure, it was pain, it was fucking great. I could do nothing but hang on for the ride as he thrust in and out of me. I think I heard myself yelling, but I couldn’t be sure over the pounding of my blood and the sound of skin slapping skin.
I briefly thought about trying to palm my own dick but the thought was gone before I could work through the logistics of it. It would’ve been too hard, anyway. Too hard to grasp without falling off the bed, I mean. And Patrick was there to take care of me. We were both sweating hard when he finally leaned over me to grab my bobbing cock while still thrusting fiercely. The change of angle was mind-blowing and it only took two or three jerks of his hand and I was coming again.
“Ohfuckohfuckohfuck,” I chanted, still gripping the sheets in my hand as Patrick gave one last slam of his hips and ejaculated. He twitched, rubbing slightly as he came, leaning his gorgeous body on mine, gripping me tightly.
Finally, he gave a huge moan and pulled out of me. I pitched forward, thoroughly exhausted and utterly replete. I didn’t bother to open my eyes as the bed bounced with his weight when he flopped beside me.
“Goddammit, Jake.”
I cracked an eyelid to glance at him. “Goddammit?” I mumbled.
He managed half a smile as he rolled his limp head in my direction. “I mean ‘goddammit’ in the fact that I’m so spent that I’ve no energy to even take the condom off my dick.”
I moved an inch until I could see his cock lying on his thigh with the pale rubber still covering it. I definitely didn’t have the energy to remove it—Patrick had made me come twice in the last thirty minutes. I wasn’t moving for at least another four hours. I didn’t even care that I was lying in a wet spot.
“Leave it on, then,” I said and closed my eyes. Within ten seconds we had both thought through the implications of leaving the condom on all night and moaned in unison. My eyes opened with a pained expression. “You’re not considering it, are you?”
He winced. “No. But I think I need another minute.”
He didn’t move, so I found a reserve of energy in the pit of my soul and rolled toward him. After he’d fucked me so well, it was the least I could do. I took care of the condom and then took care of Patrick. Together we curled up, our arms around each other, and we drifted.
IT WAS the early hours of Sunday morning, and we were lying in each other’s arms, still exhausted from our shenanigans but unwilling to go to sleep because we might miss a bit of the other person, when Patrick asked into the darkness, “Do you really like being with me?”
I chuckled. “I’ve just spent the last four nights sleeping in your bed. Doesn’t that give you a clue?”
>
I hadn’t planned it, but it happened. After Friday night’s shift at The Tav, I collected my bike to ride to my flat, and checked my phone to make sure no emergency calls had come in from any of my sisters. I was surprised to see a text message from Patrick that he’d sent at half-past midnight.
I’m still up and waiting for you to get home.
I was exhausted from working three different jobs but I found my legs pedaling furiously toward Patrick’s house. I didn’t know what I was going to do when I arrived. Knock on the door? Ring the doorbell? It was after 2:00 a.m.
I told myself I was just going to ride past. I rounded the corner and saw the veranda lights on. Why would a blind man need a light on? As I approached the house, a dark shadow detached itself from the garden. I jumped a freakin’ mile before I realized it was Gregor coming to greet me. Patrick wasn’t that far behind. No words were necessary as Patrick took my hand and led me inside, apart from, “Go and shower, Jake. You smell of smoke and alcohol.”
We had spent Saturday afternoon together, having coffee at a riverside café, throwing a ball to Gregor in the park, and walking hand in hand along the sandbar. I took off to see Maria and Mum for a bit before my Tav shift, only to find myself back with Patrick that night, warm and content in his bed.
And then he had the balls to ask if I really liked him? Four nights with him and virtually every single moment of my spare time? Ah, duh.
He was silent for a moment before tentatively asking, “So the blindness doesn’t bother you?”
It was an issue we seemed to keep coming back to, so I made sure I was very clear in my answer. “Baby, it is a part of you. If you ask me if I wish you weren’t blind, then the answer would be yes, of course I wish that you could see. But you can’t, so it’s a dumb thing to ask. Anyway, if you weren’t blind, then you wouldn’t be who you are now. You would be someone different and our paths probably would never have crossed.
