Blindfold Romp

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What a romp.
All are 18

How do I start this?

I can barely type thinking about it, my fingers are tingling. I could begin with how I could not fucking believe it was actually happening. How it did not feel real and, to be honest, *AWKWARD* How else to describe it? Maybe…guilty, ashamed, silly, shy …. and definitely, excited. Like I wanted to scream I CANNOT FUCKING BELIEVE IT!! Or nervous, because our parents were downstairs and dinner would be soon.


My mind was in such a rush, like I was this little animal, kneeling on the floor in front of my brother who was sitting on his bed in just a shirt.

And I was staring at his cock.

Oh, did I mention, he was blindfolded? For his school project. HA! I’m getting ahead of myself.

“I’m right here,” I whispered nervously. His face turning to me, unseeing. “What are you doing….”

“Just kneeling…in front of you.” I watched his hand go to his cock, watched it rise up between his legs, poking up from his shirt tail, his beautiful mushroom head of a cock spreading above his thumb, all shiny, as he gripped tight. I had dribbled some lotion on it, because he could not see. Edible Lotion, called Kama Sutra, giving me ideas. He paused, I encouraged, “Go ahead. I want you to.” I was so close he could probably feel my warm breath.

I WANTED him to see me. I had pulled my top all the way down, had untied the little straps and let it fall all bunched up at my waist. He did not know that, he didn’t even know I was wearing red. His favorite color.

I had come into his room, heard the shower and sat on the bed waiting for him; he came out still blindfolded and I watched him put on his shirt. I let him know I was there, god I was horny, and I asked him if it would be OK to go through with it.

After having shared the fantasies we have, to take turns.

His chest was heaving as his hand moved like magic up and down the length of his glistening cock.

I tipped my head up a little, like I was balancing a pencil on my chin. Watching, waiting, eyes wide.

His hand moving faster, he was groaning, a deep panting groan.

“It’s beautiful.” I said. I’m a romantic.

I held my chest out, didn’t want him to miss. My pale breasts standing out with tan lines. “Just spray straight out.” He pointed his cock at me. “Yeah, like that.” I began to lick my lips. Fuck. This was incredible. I felt like such a slut.

“I can’t see anything.” He reached with his other hand and felt my shoulder, which was bare and that surprised him. I smiled a little, letting him touch me. He knew? I let his hand wander low. “Your….”

“Hmmm. Hmmmm.” A smile in my voice.

His hand stroked across my breasts, it felt so good. His fingers brushing my nipples. I giggled.

I said, “I want to watch you cum, and … I want you to cum ON me.” He was still blindfolded, and I was taking ‘care’ of him.

His cheeks flushed immediately, as he nodded.

God he was getting into it, stroking his cock. I loved the way he was breathing, the way his breath caught and how he’d hold it as he stroked harder. I could see the pre-cum on his tip and licked my lips, blinking my eyes waiting for him to cum. God this would be heaven. I fantasized about him for longer than I cared to admit. I knew I wanted to taste it, feel it. It was all I could do not to lean forward, to take him. I could take him in my mouth. Mmmmm, I held my mouth open, my tongue lolling on my lower lip. Imagining my lips around that thick delicious cock head.

But I wanted to feel it, on my skin. Fuck. Fuck. Only thing better would be if he were straddling me on the bed while I waited naked.

I could feel my puss melt, feel it opening up, aching. I squeezed my thighs, tingling with its exquisite itch. So hungry. The wetness soaking my panties. I let the curve of my cunny press into the carpet.

I lay my hand on his thighs and scraped my nails across his flesh and then it happened, the catch of his breath and a jet of white, so fast I wasn’t sure. It caught me across the cheek, and another and another. He was spinning it out in lines on me. A spider web of cum, across my chest, along my chin, down my torso. It got on my jeans. So much cum.

He couldn’t keep quiet, his jerky grunts. And god it made me wet, I almost came, and god I wanted to cum. Let him see me, let him EAT me. I could feel him INSIDE me. Picturing his chin rubbing down between my legs, oh, letting him …. mmmm. Do anything to me. God, yes! Opening my legs I curled my fingers through my little bush and squeezed. I was his little cat in heat.

“OOOOO” Running my hands over my body, smearing him into my skin, and brought a finger-full to my lips. Tasted the thick saltiness.

When he was spent, I watched him relax, his breath slowing, looking at nothing. My little puppy.

“You all right?” He finally said.

“Yeah. I got to go. I was supposed to tell you dinner would be soon.” I giggled again, drenched in cum. Could feel the liquids tickling down my skin in cool lines. “You got me. I’m a mess.”

His deep voice, Hatay Escort “I did it.”

I was so happy, it was so what I WANTED. Such a fantasy. To be used, covered in cum. HIS cum. I brought my fingers up his thighs, touching his bare skin, and pressed my hands over his crotch, felt the wiry hairs in my fingers, wrapped my fingers into his balls and pressed the flat of my hand along his cock against his abdomen. So delicious to watch the surprise, the way his head dropped down, as he moaned at my touch. I let my fingers dance across his skin, feeling him. Wrapping my fingers around his shaft. I held it soft in my fingers, stroking, running my thin fingers all over his crotch, stroking lightly, could feel it jump. It was like he crumpled forward as I squeezed. His hands finding my breasts, squeezing, molesting me. He leaned forward and slid down onto the floor in front of me on his knees.

I said again, “I got to go.” But did not move. It all felt too right, surreal. Like a dream.

“So beautiful,” I purred again still with my hands down between his legs, feeling his member hardening again. I let go and lay my hand at his cheek. Leaning in I touched his lips with my fingers, guiding my own lips there. We kissed for the first time. His beautiful lips, and I opened my mouth, turned into him, let him slip his lower lip between mine and touch my tongue with his, as we crushed our bodies together, feeling my back curve to him as he pulled me in. My cum soaked breasts sticking to his nice white shirt as we kissed.

Once the line was crossed…..I knew we could never stop, knew what was coming. The ache in me, like a razor.



I should start at the beginning.


I idolized my brother since I could remember. I denied it, could not identify it, didn’t really even understand it. But it was attraction, all along, I was attracted to him since I can remember. The shape of his eyes, his mouth, his smell. His touch. The way he looked in a pair of jeans. I chalked it up to little sister veneration, and I was a romantic. I gave him Valentines, held his hand, left notes, MISSED him.

Years and years and years. I felt it before I could name it.

And something else.

Starting in nighttime dreams, of us wrestling mostly. Him holding my hands, pinning me, not letting go and bending my arms back until I was forced to lay down as he followed me, as he lay on me. The weight of him, in my dreams pressing down. How I remember that!

I had other dreams, of him running his hands along my back and legs, and me looking back over my shoulder, meeting his eyes. Me laying on the couch, or outside, or on the floor reading or napping. Me in panties or nothing at all. I had dreams of him watching me, always watching, as I dressed or bathed. Of walking around the house naked, or outside, or at school. His eyes on me. Always those eyes.

I would think about these dreams, with him so near to me, and my cheeks burned. I remember turning the dreams over in my mind, recalling every intimate detail, as I lay awake in the mornings and the dreams gradually transformed into fantasies. Waking fantasies. Pictures I controlled and would play with. I would lay on my bed legs spread wide stroking up my thighs, tickling a line softly across my tummy, squeeze my breasts, mmmmmm. Be so naughty, fantasizing about my brother, imagining his commands. “Turn over Ash. Bend over.” And following that invisible voice, placing my middle finger deep inside, picturing him there watching, imagining it was him inside me. Feeling him there, moving on me, faster, sliding in and out. Oh so sweet, so good, undulating my hips, squeezing, feeling it all.

He standing beside me, watching. And him masturbating. Those beautiful eyes on me the whole time.

I would lay there imagining him. Talking to no one: Go on. Cum on me. Cum.

Imagining how filthy, how sweet, his spunk on my body. Watching him there, the pleasure I could cause him

So bad, so naughty. His hand pumping, imagining its thickness. Or leaning behind me, letting his cock lay across my ass, him cumming over my back and in my hair.

Letting him push it inside, cumming IN me, wet and slippery. Looking back at him. You Beast!! How he could play with me, do anything. To be his plaything, his toy.

His fuck toy. Mmmmmm.

Imagining his thick erection when I later saw him idly reading, it embarrassed me. My cheeks burning. If he only knew what my thoughts were. Fuck. I climaxed twice, lay disheveled, panting in my sheets. And still hungry, aroused, wild for his eyes. And the fantasy of laying on my bed, looking over at my brother, as he masturbated over my naked body, of his cum spraying all over me, became my touchstone. I was never satiated.

I would cum thinking about nothing else, over and over and over. And could visualize him in my room, in the dark. Or under my bed. Or behind me, or in front of me or above me….

And how THIS actually started is kind of weird, unexpected, and it was more the animation of that underlying energy that always existed between Hatay Escort Bayan us than anything else.

Did he feel it? Was it always with him the same as with me?

Part of it was that as he got older he was gone more, with friends, with work, and he just didn’t think about me so much.

We drifted apart, or he drifted from me.

I felt it. Did he?

The absence, the longing, his disinterest. We did less together and I MISSED MISSED MISSED him, so much.


Well, whatever it was, the energy started after he left and took on a momentum all its own.

He was a Freshman in the Community College in town and got a dorm, I was in twelfth grade. It is not like he was gone all that much, because he came home for dinner often, stayed weekends so mom could wash his clothes. It just FELT like he was gone a lot. And he felt gone when he was here too, it just was not like it used to be. He talked a little bit about school but never girls. I never really even imagined him being with a girl, though there was a little worry there and I was also a bit jealous of him, protective.

One thing about all these feelings was an emerging flirtiness between us, which I considered as being part of being close. Being close, his absence, and being older now. It was totally normal, I saw it with other brothers and sisters. But I liked to think he actually felt a little bit like I did. When I started missing him, I think the flirting went up a notch, and he let it happen same as me. I would actually get ‘ready’ when I knew he was coming home. I liked to dress up, wear nice clothes, revealing clothes the way teen girls do, so far nothing unusual at all. It was all in my head anyway. I would walk past and flip my dark hair back from my eyes, glancing at him. I was always playing with my hair in his presence, twirling it around my finger.

The other thing I did encourage, which was such a part of my fantasy, was to have him look at me. Those moments I felt his eyes on me, so electric. Tapping into such a deep part of me, such a deep burning cinder. Those eyes. He had no idea about it. I would leave the slightest cracks in my door and sit in my bedroom, wondering. Or running into the basement and pulling off a top for the laundry when I knew he was downstairs and changing right in front of him. Watching TV in a short nightie in the evening, wagging my legs open and closed; or letting my skirt ride too high, let him see my panties. And watching those eyes when they noticed. Oh, God, yes! And the innuendos I worked into our conversations.

“I bet you could lick me into shape.” Not the half of it. Standing at the door waiting for him, seeing him in the driveway, “I want you inside right now!” Mmmmm. Yes, yes I do.

And being he was a guy, I always could gain that little thrill, that feeling, of his eyes on me, or get the sense he got my naughty little perks of his being here. I knew he would peek at me, catch a glance up my skirt as I bent over. My T shirts with no bra. Him peeking down my front as I let it fall forward. And this also, I felt, was a normal behavior between brother and sister.

He was not a peeping tom, did not seek it out. Though secretly, that would have been OK. I also never took it as far as really being naked in front of him, but bra and panties, he saw that quite a bit. More and more through the spring of my Senior Year. By the way, me in my bra and panties is a pretty good sight, if I don’t say so myself! Ahahah. So dressing, undressing. And now I think about it, the down my blouse shots would have given him a great view of my nipples. So, yeah, my naked nipples, and sometimes I would change a top in front of him with my back to him, so he would see my bare back. And me in a bikini, the nice view up my open legs. The bulge of my crotch, my camel toe. It’s making me hot just thinking about it.


Stupid, teenage, but still ordinary. And I knew to be careful, knew how far I should or could go. It was part of our being ‘close.’ He was a guy, I was a girl, and honestly all our little indiscretions became normal.

A girl does like to be admired.

And it never changed, that feeling of attraction I had for him. And that lingering, what would happen if…. and did I want it to?

And when I was horny, those times when he happened to come home while I was ovulating, well things always just got kicked up a little. About five days of my cycle I was off the charts – crazy horny.

Lets just say I was ‘In the mood.’

THAT is when it happened.


First, my brother emailed me during the week about a project and wondered if I would help. I was writing a paper as I saw the email screen pop up on my screen. Sitting at my lap top, writing AND checking email, and noting who is posting stuff on Facebook, and Skype AND… (these days writing a paper is a very social event:)

When…I got the email from him.

It just said: Hi;)

I fluttered because he did not email me often. And I see it pop in on my right screen, being a girl with my lap top Escort Hatay monitor and another flat screen.

I open it, and heading says, ‘I love to get Naked in the morning.”

I was like, what the fuck! I feel my cheeks grow warm, a flutter in my stomach, and immediately shoot an email back.


About a minute later he writes, ‘Didn’t you see the picture?’

‘No.’ And I scroll down, and there is a shot of my dorky brother holding up a bottle of ‘Naked Orange Juice.’

So we open a chat:

Me: You are such a dork.

Bro: Got your attention!?

Me: I’m writing a paper, but yeah.

Bro: Just sayin hi.

Me: Hi. That it?

Bro: And a question. Need your help.

Me: Ahhhh. Girl troubles;(

Bro: Nah, but always willing to take advice.

Bro: You always got a guy, any secrets??

I laughed, what the hell is this about?? I got no guy. Feeling silly, and a little bit hot.

Me: Easy. I just flash my titties, and they follow me around like a puppy. HA!

There was a pause. I felt embarrassed.

Me: TMI?

Bro: Guess I can’t follow you around then.

Bro: Never seen your tits.

Me: As if.

Bro: Maybe…Once

Bro: or twice

Me: Maybe ten or twenty. LOL

Me: I know about you.

My cheeks were glowing now, I felt all warm. Thinking I should not have written any of this.


Me: Dork. I got to work, what did you want?



Me: When you coming home again?

Bro: Not this weekend, next weekend.

Me: And??

Bro: I got this project at school. We are supposed to learn what it is like to live with a disability. Some want to tie an arm to their side, or wear earplugs, or such shit. I decided to wear a blindfold. We’re supposed to have someone in our family to interact with, and like. I thought of you. Would you help.

Me: Blindfolded?

Bro: Yes.

Something about that set some trippy feeling in me.

Me: Kind of Weird….

Me: But. Sure.

He went through everything. I wanted to know what it was and he said it had to do with learning about understanding people with disabilities. Elderly, or injury, or physical disability. The project was that everyone in this class had to spend the weekend in a manner that left them with some sort of disability. Earplugs, as in you cannot hear. Or binding an arm to your side. Staying seated in a wheelchair, like that. My brother had the idea of being blindfolded, not being able to see.

The other thing was that the project required the students to be with another person, someone who could help. The teacher was interested in safety but also in the students learning how to interact with another person, what it felt like to be disabled around other. Need seek help, when to be independent. What it felt like to be disabled around those who are not. It would be for the weekend and he needed somebody to be with, and HE thought of me.

Somehow, somewhere in this exchange was a flutter in my stomach. I don’t know why, but this idea of him being blindfolded played to all my feelings of being watched, only in this I would be the watcher.

I agreed. And we sort of identified how it would all work out, what help he needed. Obviously it would not be ALL the time, not all night….hee hee hee (and he was the one who said that!). Be still my heart.

So by Friday I pretty much ran wild with the whole thing. Getting to be with him non stop, and him being dependent on me. Being close together. Me having this unfettered access to looking at him, anywhere I wanted! BLUSH. God….I loved it.

Oh, and yes, I was a fertile Myrtle.


He came home Saturday morning, and was to be blindfolded the whole day, the whole weekend. It all drew this little tingle inside. Yum.

He says to me, “You still want to do this?”

“Of course!”

And what we decided first was to go for a walk. Just a walk, get outside. Move around. He had the blindfold which was provided by the teacher. It was shaped in such a way there could be no peeking, but it also was not large, making it inconspicuous. He wore dark glasses over it which made it not weirdly noticeable.

What we did was go for a long walk toward where we used to live, when mom and dad were renting.

“This is totally weird. I don’t feel at all confident about my steps.” He looked like he was ready to drop off a cliff with each step.

I was holding his hand, guiding him.

“It’s OK. The road is level. I’ll tell you when we come to a curb. Trust me.”

Not much happened on the way. But when we got there a distant, barely audible song, and Nick lifted his head. I barely heard it.

“Ashley!! Ice Cream! It’s an ice cream truck!” He said. He sounded like a little kid, the kid I remembered.

“Weird how you can know that just by sound.”

“I do feel like all my senses are better without my eyes.”

Anyway, he was right. We found that truck and each of us got an ice cream cone, sat down by the curb. I guided his eating of the cone while having mine. It was like sitting with a two year old, having to tell him where it was melting too much or about to drip and he would turn it the way I said. We were laughing at this. It was hilarious how much you need to see just to eat an ice cream cone.

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