We fell onto the bed, each with a leg half-wrapped around the other. Rina’s skin is so soft and her slim, muscular body has strength without being rock-hard like a man’s. I still like men, of that I’m sure, but Rina makes loving a woman so warm, so wonderful, so right. I was convinced that I would swing both ways from then on … or maybe favor the female side, if it included a certain trainer for the blind.
Rina was on top of me and immediately moved down so her mouth was on my pussy. I felt her moist tongue running along between my lips - this was something we’d found to be easier and pretty effective at arousing me in the absence of my inner labia. Her tongue slid up to my ringed clit and I felt the rings vibrate as she flicked them up-and-down or side-to-side.
Like I’d become accustomed to, I came first in half a minute. Then she did it again and again.
Rina’s fingers were in me and she was still twiddling me with her tongue, forcing one climax after another from me. I felt her fingers tapping on my G-spot and I began to climb toward climax in both places. I wasn’t sure I could stand it after five clitoral orgasms. I’ll never know how, but she managed to keep both arousals in balance and when I reached the top, I came clitorally and from my G-spot at almost exactly the same time. For a couple of minutes, I was out of my mind with pleasure beyond anything I’d felt before.
I could barely move for ten minutes or more after that shattering experience. My genitals were hypersensitive. I was determined to pay Rina back in kind, so I forced myself to move and began playing with her nipples, down her belly, and onto her clit. My tongue repeatedly slid along between her inner and outer lips, and then I thrust it between her inners and up onto her love button. I toyed with it with the softest of touches. My fingers went into her and felt along her vagina for the spongy G-spot in the front. I found it and repeatedly pushed on it in a steady rhythm, then began tapping – not hard, but just enough. I could feel Rina’s pelvis and leg muscles respond as she thrust up against me, and gripped my head and shoulders between her legs.
I tried my best to bring the arousal of her principle erogenous zones, her clit and her G-spot, up in parallel, as she had so skillfully done for me. Her moans of pleasure and abandon were getting louder and longer. Her juices were flowing all around my mouth and hand. The scent of her musky sex was heady and strong. The aroma of her made me wet, and I could feel it between my legs.
She came from her clit. I knew it because the organ suddenly hardened more than I thought possible, and she bucked so hard my head jerked back for a moment. My tongue never left her bud, though, and I was able to draw out her climax until her G-spot arousal was fulfilled. She came with both orgasms overlapping and screamed as they happened. The screams continued and I was able to draw a third clitoral climax out of her before she shouted, “Enough!”
We realized later that we’d both been in a sexually-charged state because of my dancing that night. The erotic cloud had followed us home and spiced our lovemaking like nothing had before.
“I never thought I could explode with pleasure like you made me explode tonight,” I told her.
“I was trying to turn you into a lesbian so you’d forget that bi shit,” she said laughing, though I thought she was only half-joking. I knew, though, that Rina did a guy from time to time, and always mentioned enjoying it. That said, I was pretty sure that, given a choice, she’d always prefer a ménage à trois with another girl and a guy, to a one-on-one with a guy alone.
“Many more nights like that, and I don’t know what I’ll be,” I responded. “You are a superb lover.”
“You’re not so bad either, for a blind girl.”
“I’m better because I’m blind,” I said then. I was thinking that might actually be true. “I’m not distracted by vision. One less big thing to focus on. I can give more attention to you.”
“Well, you’ve proven that you do that. Your hardware makes it easier for me to turn you on. Taking you as a whole package, you’re the ideal lover.”
“That’s an interesting, and very nice thing to say, though it seems that what makes me a perfect lover, are all things that I had nothing to do with.”
“So you take the good with the bad. That’s what you’ve done, and you’ve made a bad situation pretty damn good. At least for me, and I hope for you too.”
“If being blind was the only way for me to meet you, then I’m glad I became blind.” I meant that.
**********
I did five shows every night for the next four nights. Every one was as well-received as the one on that first night. The Jolly Roger set another record the second night, a Saturday. By Tuesday, I was getting pretty tired and I did get disoriented during the up-tempo number 2 dance that was my fourth performance that night. I managed to find the pole I’d lost and shrugged off the faux pas with an ‘oh well’ gesture. I got a laugh from the patrons and continued right on.
I actually apologized to Phil and Roger afterwards, but they both blew it off as nothing to worry about at all.
I’d gone back to my blind training during the day on Monday and planned to do it every weekday until Rina and John thought I was done. I was making very fast progress at both navigating and reading braille. The more I got out and around, the more comfortable and confident I was becoming. They were pushing me and I was pushing myself hard from their encouragement. It was all working out as well as I could have hoped, given what had happened.
Rina and I spent both of my off nights, Wednesday and Thursday, together at her place, where we went after my braille training in the afternoon. We cooked at her home both nights, as a continued part of my training. Rina came with me out to my place after we finished at the Disability Services on Friday. She stayed and watched me dance on Friday and Saturday nights, then we parted as I went to the Jolly Roger for Sunday’s performance and she went home.
This continued for about five weeks and worked out well for us. The word had gotten out about my performances and the Jolly Roger was busier than ever. I guess people liked the wanton gyrations of the sexy, googly-eyed blind dancer. I was settling into a comfortable routine – something I would have deemed impossible shortly after I’d been blinded.
The money was beyond anything I’d expected, though it didn’t really mean that much to me for some reason. I guess when you have enough, you stop thinking about it. No amount of money was going to allow me to see any sooner, and except for my sight, I had everything I wanted. I didn’t need to buy anything else.
Besides my $800 a week salary, I was averaging an incredible $1,200 in tips on Friday and Saturday nights, and almost $1,000 the other nights. So I was making a phenomenal $6,000 or more per week! In two months, I’d earn more than I would have in a year at River’s Edge Biotech.
Taking off my clothes and dancing with clear sexual intent in front of crowds of people should have been difficult for me, but it never actually was. I think my inability to see them was a major factor in my not being upset at what I was doing 25 times a week. After a few weeks, it became routine and I rarely thought about it anymore. I was a stripper. I’d tell myself that from time to time, to see how it made me feel. Honestly, it didn’t make me feel anything. If I were changing, I didn’t notice it. My big change happened when they took my sight. Dancing nude never had the impact being blinded did.
That said, by the beginning of my sixth week at the Jolly Roger, and my eighth without sight, I was also used to being blind. I never woke up surprised that there was no light. I didn’t think about it when I went about my day, or even when I sat down to relax with a cigarette or two or three and listen to music. I stopped thinking about having to cane my way along by tapping when I went out. It was simply what I did to go from place to place. Oh, I thought about it when I did it, but not in contrast to being able to walk around sighted.
I guess Rina, Betty and everyone else was right when they told me it would soon feel normal to be blind. That’s how it felt, even before I’d been blind for two months.
That was a good
thing. I didn’t obsess about it anymore.
My relationship with Rina hadn’t cooled off any at all. Up to then, we’d kept our separate homes and used them both every week, pretty much as we had after my first performance weekend. My training was about over. My braille skills were very good, and only needed practice, which I did by reading braille novels on my braille e-reader whenever I had a few minutes.
I’d picked up several new friends that Rina and I hung out with, including my fellow-blind friend, Gini, whom I met at the Visually Impaired Group meetings, and Megan, who’d welcomed me to River’s Edge with Lindsey. Once in a while, I had lunch with wheelchair-bound Sara, the paralegal who was one of the first women I’d met in River’s Edge.
Sara had been quite shocked when she’d first seen me after my makeover; that is, having been blinded, with my hair in short, dark curls, and my impossible-to-miss stripper’s tits. She was even more astounded to find that I’d become an exotic dancer. She took it in stride, though, and showed up once in a while for my performances, usually accompanied by a group of women from her office.
Nothing had changed regarding Sara’s condition and wouldn’t for many years to come. The implementation of her punishment had been flawless to this point in time. It was actually a simpler punishment to implement than my own, and there was little chance that it would run longer than intended, because it was reversed with an antidote. There was no antidote for my blindness, save time.
Gini became a good friend, and she was unabashedly straight. We did fun, girl-things together, frequently laughing at the messes two blind women could manage to get into. Megan, on the other hand, was 100 percent lesbian and was clearly interested in me sexually. I was committed to Rina, so I dodged her advances, though I told Rina about them.
Rina surprised me by suggesting that the three of us go out and party together. One Wednesday night off, Megan joined us uptown and we went to a couple LGBT bars near the university. I had a good time, though I was surprised to get hit on several times at each place. Rina and Megan thought that was about as surprising as the sun rising in the east. They thought I was much hotter than I was, for reasons that still escaped me.
“There’s something inherently sexy about a blind lesbian,” Megan noted, her hand firmly on my butt. She’d done it earlier, and Rina had laughed.
“I’m not lesbian, I like guys too. That makes me bisexual.”
“Nah … I think you’re fooling yourself,” Megan teased. “Regardless, you are one sexy blind chick. Come dance with me.”
“I normally get paid for this,” I said as she led me onto the dance floor.
“I’ll pay you later tonight. Rina said I could.”
“Oh did she?”
“Yes. Of course, she’ll be there too. You’re both spending the night at my house. I have some toys I think you’ll like.”
That was the first I’d heard of that little plan. After we left the clubs and took the good old green line back to River’s Edge, that’s exactly what we did.
Megan’s toys happened to be a couple of strap-on penises, along with an entire collection of rabbits and vibrators of various configurations. The strap-ons were designed to pleasure the wearer with vibrations, and the receiver with … well, you know.
They used them on me to great effect, including both diddling with me at once. That was a little tricky to configure, given all the hardware in my pussy, but they made it work. My ass was virgin territory up until then so, of course, I’d never been double-penetrated. By the end of the night, I was a veteran.
From the standpoint of pure orgasmic extremism, I’d never experienced anything close. By the time they finished with me, I couldn’t even talk. Not a word. They’d fucked my brains out. My mind was marmalade. I did decide that I liked the intimacy of one-on-one sex better than a threesome, though I’d certainly be willing to do it again once in a while.
I tried my best to keep up with them and give as good as I got, but this was, without a doubt, their night to work me over. I did use a strap-on to bugger each of them, while the other twiddled the receiver’s snatch. That seemed to go over well, but I told them it would have been better if each of them had at least a couple rings in their clits, if not in other places too. I promised to get them appointments with Doctor Riffkin to get it done, and use some of the thousands in cash I had to treat. I made them promise to go get their clits enhanced and was determined to see that they did.
Thanks to Doctor Riffkin, a week later both of them sported clit rings exactly like mine. Their inner lips were gone too, along with their pubic hair. No more shaving or waxing for them. I’d wanted us to all feel soft and smooth there, and easily talked them into it. A few days later, thanks to the hyperhealants, they were both healed up and we did another night like the first one.
They were both neophytes when it came to their enhanced clits, and I used that to great advantage. Knowing what to do, I had them repeatedly climaxing as I fingered each at the same time. That night, I wore them down.
I think Rina was less happy with her magnified sexual response than Megan and I. It would hit her at various times during the day, sometimes while walking, sometimes sitting in her chair. I’d never had that problem, but she did, perhaps because she was more sensitive to begin with, or maybe it had something to do with how her rings were positioned, or her specific physiology. Regardless of why, the fact was that her rings kept her in a perpetual state of semi to near-full arousal.
Of course, being exactly like mine, her rings couldn’t be removed. Ever. She’d lose her clit if they had to be removed, or if she didn’t actually lose it, it probably wouldn’t work anymore. It looked like Rina would be living with constant arousal. Time would tell, though Rina did begin sitting very still and walking with shorter steps in an attempt to control herself. I laughed at her. I don’t think she saw the humor.
I’d seen my hairdresser, Kirsten once already, for a color touch-up and a trim. Now it was time to go again for color, trim and a re-perm. I’d decided to stay a curly brunette. It was as easy as Kirsten had promised, and I always looked okay. Everyone else thought I always looked great, but I still preferred it longer and straight, like it had been. That was too difficult for me to manage though, and I knew it. I expected to be a kinky-headed brunette as long as I was blind, except when I wore the wigs on stage.
Kirsten rolled me up and someone did my nails while that was going on. As the perm took hold, a different woman waxed my brows. They ended up thinner than the other two times – and they were thin then. Kirsten said they looked better thinner. I suspected that I wouldn’t like them as much, but since I couldn’t see them, I didn’t care. They felt really thin to my sensitive finger tips, though.
My perm was tighter too, so I was definitely kinky-curly now. It was quite tight to my head and my hair was probably less than two inches long. Kirstin colored it black, but with a violet tone to it. She suggested it, and I said, “Why not?”
Rina liked my darker, curlier hair and thinner brows a lot and proved it to me that night. With her modified pussy, she was so easy to arouse. I could mold her response like clay in my hands. I could make her cum until she passed out, which happened more than once.
After watching Rina “suffer” (her words, though the truth was somewhere between suffering and ecstasy) from her near-constant arousal for two weeks, I got her an appointment with Doctor Riffkin, to see if there was anything he could do. He said he could make an appliance for her, that would fit in her panties or thong, which would hold the rings still, until she took it out. It would hold them in her most comfortable, neutral position, where there was the least arousal; that turned out to be in the middle for the vertical ring, and all the way down for the horizontal.
He actually made a mold of her pussy, which I thought was hysterical while he was doing it. I couldn’t see it, of course, but I could certainly hear Rina’s complaints as the slimy stuff was spread all over her genitals. Even Rina was laughing at the jokes I was making about the
goo on her snatch.
A couple days later, she went in to be fitted. The soft rubber-like device was comfortable and it worked. She was always more aroused than before, but at a tolerable level. Her sudden orgasms stopped. The doc told her she’d have to get used to the residual arousal that was always present; there wasn’t anything else he could do about it.
By now, I was in my twelfth week of blindness, and my tenth as a stripper. Labor Day weekend was coming up. Rina’s birthday was actually on Labor Day this year. As a gag present, I bought the mold of her pussy from Doctor Riffkin and had it mounted on a nice stand for her as an object d’art. It was a hit and I thought she’d die laughing when she saw it.
**********
A month later, Phil and I were alone on the stage late one afternoon. He was teaching me another of an unending number of moves that he had in his repertoire. I was determined to be the best dancer I could be, for as long as I was doing it. After all, I had more than a year to go and I wanted to please the crowd. In a positive way, I did think about displaying myself to mostly strangers every night – I’d made friends with a few regulars, of course – and I wanted people to enjoy my dances. I wanted them to find me sexy, desirable, and entertaining. That perspective was true to my nature.
I’d always needed to be the best at whatever I was doing. Not only my best, but the absolute best. I wasn’t always on top, and that did cause me anxiety over the years growing up and all through college, where my grades were good, maybe very good, but not great. When I was the best, though, I got a tremendous high from it.
When it came to stripping, of all things, I was the best. At least, the best around these parts. If there’d been a national striptease competition, I’d have convinced Roger to sponsor me in it. I cared far more that I was the best stripper, than whether or not someone knew I was a stripper.
It’s the way I’m wired.
Eighteen Months Page 19
