Blindfolded (My First Oral)

I thought I was nervous before Goth Boy put the makeshift blindfold on me, but it was nothing compared to how – or what – I felt afterwards. A mix of disorientation, nerves, anticipation, and trepidation soared through my veins, making every part of my body tremble violently – but I didn’t understand those emotions. I couldn’t understand them yet.

Soundtrack: Aerials by System Of A Down.

All I knew, all I understood, was that I was nervous.

Truth be told, I was turned on. Aroused. Nervous, sure… but also excited. I wanted Goth Boy, and that was something I had never felt for The Very First One. Or anyone. But I was excited to be blindfolded, excited to take things to the next level with GB, and very much excited for whatever he was going to do to me next.

Thankfully, he didn’t leave me waiting for too long to find out.

His fingers roamed and explored first, trailing across my stomach, a mix of tiptoeing stokes and light grazing of his nails. He tiptoed his way down to the hem of my underwear, then right up again, all the way to the cup of my bra. He was teasing, testing, experimenting. Figuring out which types of touches sent goosebumps erupting across my skin and which spots made me squirm the most. Taking his time with it, too.

His fingers slid under the waistband of my underwear, just a fraction, the next time he tiptoed down. It made me take a sharp inhale of breath. He hovered, exactly where he was, not moving upwards or downwards or in any kind of direction at all. I wanted so badly to see his face, to see the expression across it or the mood sparkling in his eyes. My hands reached up to shift the scarf around my head before I’d even had a chance to think about it, but he just grabbed my wrist and put it down by my side again.

“Do I need to tie you up as well?” he asked.

I shook my head no, but honestly, I wouldn’t have minded if he had tied me up. In for a penny, in for a pound, and all that. Nothing had even really happened yet, but I was still having a lot more fun than I’d ever had with The Very First One. Was this how sex was really meant to be? Fun? Playful? Exploratory?

I sure had a lot to learn.

When he was satisfied that I wouldn’t move again, Goth Boy focused once more on my body; my nipples, to be exact. He pulled down the cup of my bra and released one, then the other, running a fingertip roughly over each as they stiffened in the cool air.

Oh… I like that.

Goosebumps erupted across my skin. He ran his fingertips roughly across my nipples again and again and again.

Fuck… I really like that.

His fingers moved to my torso, once again, and I wasn’t prepared for the change at all. I didn’t want him to stop doing that thing with my nipples. At the same time, though, I also couldn’t wait to see what he discovered next. I felt his weight shift on the bed, and his mouth joined his fingers as they journeyed across my skin. He mix-and-matched light kisses with little sucks and nibbles, and I genuinely felt like I’d died and gone to heaven. He was playing with me. Not just preheating the oven before popping the turkey in; actually, genuinely, defiantly working out just what I liked and didn’t like – and in turn, so was I.

The skin right on top of my hip bones was the most sensitive. Almost too sensitive when he bit down a little harder. And just like before, with my nipples, once Goth Boy had figured out that I liked something, he did it again and again and again… just to make sure.

He sure was thorough.

Eventually, his mouth followed the line of my hips lower and lower, nudging aside my underwear to kiss and suck and bite and nibble so, so, so close to my cunt. That was the moment I realised, he was going to go down on me. I’d never done that before. Not once. The Very First One thought it was icky and other such words, so it was completely off the table – and to be perfectly honest, I didn’t mind that so much.

But now? Well, now was different. Now was with Goth Boy and not The Very First One… and Goth Boy was a man on a mission, it seemed.

He moaned into my underwear, and the heat of his breath did incredible things as it sunk between my thighs.

“Can I take these off?” he said, tugging on the waistband of my underwear.

I nodded, completely incapable of forming a sentence. It was the very first time I’d ever experienced the “lust drunk” I speak of so much in this blog. His heat, scent, closeness, exploration, scarf-blindness, all of it – it was intoxicating, addictive, and as I was soon to find out, one of the best damn drugs in the whole world.

I lifted my ass as he shuffled my last layer of dignity away. There I was, completely naked, completely exposed to someone, for someone, for the very first time. Not being able to see his facial expression in that moment was torturous. Was he scowling? Frowning? Smiling? Wretching into his hands?

Thankfully, it couldn’t have been the latter because his hands were rubbing my thighs, parting them more and more with each up-down motion. I almost ached for him to touch me… there. So, I helped to hurry things along, my bratty side revealing itself already, parting my legs for him. He just chuckled and carried on his horny little way. I wanted to tut very loudly, but somehow, by some miracle, I kept it to myself. I didn’t want to prolong things even more.

His hands grasped at my thighs almost painfully, and I could tell that, once again, he was testing the waters. Did I like it? Didn’t I? Should he do it again? I bucked my hips just a little, just to meet his hands again, just to non-verbally answer.  

Yes, yes, yes, I like it. I love it!

Then, when I least expected it, he planted soft, feathery kisses on my labia, from slit to ass, then back up again. I squirmed all the way, loving his touch so much that I almost hated it. It was almost too much. I almost couldn’t bear it. Maybe he knew that, maybe he didn’t, but Goth Boy kept going regardless. Light and feathery kisses gave way to a probing tongue that opened me up completely, then gently explored and wandered until it found the spots that made me gasp. He used one hand to spread me wide while the other grasped and fondled my hips, buttocks, and breasts.

I was close to overwhelm. There were so many sensations at once, and I couldn’t focus on anything. Not him, not me, not the warmth that spread from his mouth to my sex, not any of it. I was beyond lust drunk, with no way of understanding what lust drunk even was. And because I didn’t understand it, I had no clue what to do with it.

He didn’t make me come. Nobody had at that point. Well, aside from little ol’ me, of course… and I’d done that a lot. Still, I wasn’t quite brave enough to tell Goth Boy what to do or how to do it. When the time felt right, I gave him my best performance and faked my orgasm. I’d studied enough drama and seen just enough porn to get the right idea. Real porn, though. Back-in-the-day porn. The kind of porn that was a truckload more realistic than the kind you can find with a few taps of a button now. I also knew how it felt to climax, so I put that to good use, too.

Thankfully, it did the trick. When Goth Boy finally removed the scarf from around my head, I saw the beaming smile across his face. He looked just like an expectant puppy, waiting for a treat after performing a really good trick.

“That was so awesome,” I told him – and it wasn’t a lie. It was awesome. It felt awesome. Just not awesome enough to finish me off. He didn’t need to know that, though.

Again: I sure had a lot to learn.

The next blog post in the dating timeline is this one: The Rock Club.