Blind Man's Bluffbytrevorm©
It was an audacious idea, but finally my wife Penny agreed to it. The plan was to set up a scenario whereby I could fulfil a long-held fantasy of mine - that of giving another guy a blow job.
I'd discussed this on several previous occasions with Penny, but she would just laugh it off, make light of it, and that would be that. But I really wanted to try it, wanted to know what it was like to have a man's lovely thick, rubbery dick in my mouth and to know what it was like to have him cum in it too. I'd tried several simulations, the best being when Penny wore her strap-on, slicked with my own sperm - collected some time earlier in a condom - and then got me to suck on it. It was lovely, but while the sensation of a latex cock and the taste of my own cum was fairly agreeable and horny, there was always something missing, some vital ingredient that would give me complete satisfaction – a decent pay-off at the finish... the good old money shot.
What I really wanted, what I craved most, was to have some hairy-arsed biker bloke (or whoever else might be on hand and willing to deliver the goods at the time) hold my head against his rancid hairy groin while he shot his great white load down my throat.
When I pressed the point with Penny – she wasn't keen to start with, understandably - she finally came up with a few suggestions, blokes who might just fit the bill. But when I analysed it, none of them were the right stuff, if you know what I mean. Most of them were too normal and boring, too straight-laced and starchy and no sense of humour and anyway, I didn't want a straight guy getting the wrong impression of me, especially someone we knew well, that would be hard to arrange, and even harder to live with afterwards. The one or two gay men we knew were heavily into existing relationships and as faithful as hell, so they were out of the frame. I would have preferred a gay, it would have been easier. But like I said, the only two we knew well were not in the market for a bit of extra-curricular oral.
The only solution to our problem would be by the use of trickery, whereby Penny would have to go out to a bar in town, pick up some likely geezer, a stranger, and then bring him back to our place where I'd be waiting, conveniently ensconced in our big walk-in wardrobe.
She would make up some cock-and-bollock story about wanting him tied-up and blindfolded and the music up loud while she went down on him, because it made it "more kinky and exciting" for her, and then at the given moment she would slide (ever-so-quietly) the wardrobe door open, I would emerge from my hidey-hole, take her place on the bed, and bingo! She would disappear for ten minutes – or however long it took - and wait until it was all over, and then she would return and then we would swap places again with me leaving the bedroom for the spare room and waiting until he'd gone. Penny would in the meantime remove the blindfold, humour matey by saying how marvellous his cock was, how lovely his cum tasted, and how well it all went with the music, but now off home he'd better jolly well totter because she had to be up early in the morning. He'd be none-the-wiser that he'd just been 'gobbled' by a bloke, and not the tasty bit of crumpet he'd picked up in the pub. That was the plan, anyway.
"What if I don't pull?"
"Yeah, and pigs might fly. Look, Pen, if for some unfathomable reason you can't get anyone back here just give us a call. In the meantime, while you're out the way I'll set the scene."
I knew Penny could virtually have her pick whenever she dolled herself up. Sex appeal was something that oozed out of her pores. I was a lucky sod in that respect. Everyone and his dog wanted to shag Pen.
"Better put the family pictures in the drawer," she said "There can't be anything more off-putting than pictures of one's family staring accusingly at you when you're..."
"Yeah, leave it to me, particularly our wedding one above the bed. Although some guys might find it a turn-on – shagging a bloke's missus while he looks on, albeit from a picture frame... you know, like rubbing his face in it: "See here, mate, I'm shagging your missus and there's fuck-all you can do about it."
"Do I play it that I'm single, divorced, or just having a bit on the side while hubby's away?"
"I'll leave it to your intuition and imagination, babe. But I'd prefer you to play the slag-type wife, the one who's up for a bit on the side. I don't like the idea of you taking your ring off, I'm a bit superstitious like that – soft old sod that I am - and anyway, blokes these days are hardly likely to be put off by a married sort. In fact it increases the thrill for a lot of guys."
Penny was thoughtful for a moment. "How would you know? Are you experienced in that sort of thing?"
"Trust me, babes. But so's I don't spend the whole evening in the wardrobe waiting for you and matey to come back, perhaps you could just give us a ring to say you're on your way, a ten minute warning, something like that. You might have to say to whoever you're with, 'I'm just going to call a cab for us,' or something."
"You've got it all worked out, Dave, haven't you? I'm still not entirely happy about this you know... having some stranger in our bedroom, in our bed even. And how will I know if it's someone that's going to appeal to you, or what if I just happen to have picked up a psychopath?"
"Don't worry; I won't be far away will I? Just as long as it's no one gawky, or some spotty teenager with bad breath and a tiny dick. Bring me back Bob the Builder if you like, or someone in uniform... that would be nice, as long as they're well-hung."
"How am I going to find that out?"
"I'll pretend you never said that, Pen."
"And what about the blindfold and something to tie him down with... and then there's the music?"
"No sweat. You can use some of your old pairs of nylons or tights. I'll put them in the bedside table drawer along with my brown lambswool scarf and the mp3 player all ready to go on the top. I'll link it up with my little stereo speaker set which I'll do while you're out. That'll give us enough volume to hide any suspicious shuffling about. All you've got to do is switch it on when you're ready. Piece of piss!"
"I'm going to feel like a common tart doing this, coming on to some stranger in a bar."
"You'll love it, Pen. Every decent, clean-living woman wants to play the slut at some stage in her life. You ask any actor or actress who they'd rather play – a good person or a bad one, and nine times out of ten they'll say bad... it's always more fun. Tell you what... I'll come out with you to start with. I think it will be more convincing if we contrive to have some kind of disagreement in full view of whoever we choose as the victim."
"Oh yeah..? How's that going to work then?"
"Listen... Here's the plan. We'll hit a couple of bars, see what's about, you can eye the talent. When we find someone we're both happy with, well, obviously, me more than you, as it's me who... you know..."
"Just get to the point, David."
"Well once we've lined up Mr Likely Bloke and we know he fancies you, you know... like he's been giving you plenty of leering looks and suchlike – make sure you wear that tight dress, the white one, show your tits and arse off - we'll stage an argument, a falling-out scene."
"Isn't that going a bit far?"
"Nah. It'll look good, nice touch. That's what I mean about being convincing. See, I storm off leaving you all abandoned and bereft at the table with your drink – make like you're really upset, and matey won't be able to resist coming over to see if you're okay. It can't fail. He's bound to fall for it."
"So we're assuming then for argument's sake then that 'said' bloke is the sensitive caring kind, sort of a white knight coming to rescue the damsel in distress?"
"Yeah, or someone who just fancies his chances of getting his leg over for the night."
"That's more like it."
"Anyway, the point is, Pen, he comes over and sees if you're all right – you don't make it too easy for him, don't be too obvious or enthusiastic – so you say you'll be fine and not to worry, maybe a subtle little sniff-sniff and the old watery eyes trick – you're good at that - but careful not to put him off completely, let him cheer you up with a couple of drinks and Bob's your fucking uncle. You tell him your hubby has gone home to his mother's for the weekend to think things over and you feel like teaching him a lesson for being such an insensitive pillock. He offers to see you home and it'll be virtually bosh-bosh job done. Come on, what you reckon? You've always fancied yourself as an actress."
"Mum used to call me a drama queen when I was at school. I might be able to do it. Oh, I don't know, you're a bloody nutcase, David Cooper. Let me think about it."
"What's there to think about, Pen?"
"Lots of things."
"Come on, babes... be a sport... It'll be a right laugh."
"Well, all right, and only cos I love you... and only this once too. And don't blame me if it all ends in tears."
"It'll work, Pen... I'll stake my life on it."
So there we had it – Operation Blindfold Blow Job was on...
"What you reckon then?" Penny pouted at me from the dressing table showing me the paint job she'd done on her lips, bright shiny red cherries. Lovely!
"Gorgeous, Pen... Even I'd fancy you."
"Ha-ha!" Penny laughed sarcastically. "Fuck off, Dave. How do I look?"
"Fabulous, Pen... I mean it. You'd even give Alan Carr a hard-on."
I meant it. Penny did look gorgeous, really horny in that slinky white dress – my favourite, tits and teeth, hips and arse. She'd kind of styled her hair old-fashioned too, a bit like that blonde bird in those Andy Warhol posters. In fact she looked so shagable that for a moment I didn't want her to go, I wanted her for myself. I got hold of her hand and pulled her onto the bed. I really fancied taking her right there and then, I felt so horny.
"Careful," she said. "Don't mess me up... tee-hee... don't... hee-hee... stop it, Dave. David! You'll smudge my lippy."
"I love you, Penelope Cooper. You're fucking gorgeous."
"I'll drive you down, we'll have a look round, then hopefully, once we've spotted a likely customer we'll put the old act on and then you can reel him in, hook, line and fucking sinker. If he doesn't have a car, get a cab back with him."
Penny completed her outfit with a nice little stole draped round her shoulders - didn't want anything to hide too much of that fantastic body. Thank God it wasn't raining, she looked the business just like she was, just the white dress and stole... and of course the white four inch heels and seamed stockings.
It didn't take us long to find a likely-looking bloke. He was on his own at the bar in Billy Bunter's Bistro trying to chat-up the barmaid and not doing very well. It was really an eating only place but they didn't mind you having a drink or two without food, as long as you drank at the bar or were prepared to give up your table to someone who wanted to eat if the seating was stretched.
The barmaid looked bored and kept glancing at her watch. He hadn't got a chance with her, you could see that. It made him an easy target if we worked quickly, i.e. before he moved on. It wouldn't be long before he realised what we could see immediately – that he had no fucking chance with whatsertits behind the bar.
There wasn't that many in, just about right for a little old bust-up scene. He looked okay really, not bad-looking and wearing a business suit, maybe come straight from work, or got dressed up because he fancied his chances. Maybe this was his starting point for a trawl round town, but I reckon we'd have to move fast.
We went to the bar and ordered a couple of drinks. We stood next to matey and put the first part of our plan into action with a couple of sniping remarks to each other that we'd briefly rehearsed. Both the barmaid and the barfly gave us a look as if they realised all was not perhaps well. When he clapped his eyes on Penny, who had deliberately stood right next to him, you could tell right away he liked what he saw. Talk about a leer job... he was about as subtle as Gok Wan, or Go Wank as I called him. I could see him over Penny's shoulder looking at her arse, which she deliberately thrust about for his benefit, putting her weight down on one leg and then the other. She was good at teasing and all that kind of stuff.
I tried to imagine going down on him. In my mind I could see someone on our bed, a faceless cipher, blindfolded and tied down. I'd run my hands over his chest and belly, all light and delicate and sensual like it was a woman's hands. I'd work my way down, occasionally looking up at his blindfolded face to see his reactions. I'd run my hand across his abdomen and then his trouser crotch and feel his cock boning up. I would unzip him and put my hand inside his fly and feel him... it was wild. I'd just given myself a right old boner. Easy boy...
We snapped at each other again before moving off to a table and sitting down. We carried on our conversation in suitably raised and agitated tones. It was working quite well, turning the heads of the few diners, as well as attracting the attention of the barmaid - who seemed to welcome the diversion – and of course Mr Almost Right, which was the main object of the exercise.
We milked the situation for all it was worth, drawing it out over two rounds of drinks until, after one final heated exchange I stormed out and it was just in time because that pratt from work, Charlie Smithers, who was always bragging about who he'd shagged the night before, came in. Luckily I saw him before he saw me and I was able to slip into the little alcove to the side that acted a place where customers could hang their coats and I let him pass through into the bar before I reappeared and went out. That would've fouled everything up good and proper if he'd seen me and Penny having a row.
He'd never seen me with my wife before, but it could've been a bit tricky having to explain things on Monday morning at work, know what I mean? I could do without Charlie wanting to know all the ins and outs of my bleedin' marriage. I wouldn't mind betting that he was going to be telling me all about how he'd gone back with Titsalina behind the bar and fucked the arse off her. Never believed a word of what he said anyway, long streak of piss, don't know what women saw in him.
It was another hour after getting home that Penny finally called. "Everything all right, babe?" I said, into the phone.
"Just about to come back, David. He's got a car. Give it about twenty minutes and have everything ready."
"Nice one, Pen. Went all right did it... matey fell for it like?"
"Yeah... sort of. Look, I'd better go now otherwise he's going to be suspicious. See you in a bit."
I wondered what Penny had meant when she said 'sort of'. I wondered if she'd had any problems. She sounded happy enough though. No stage fright. I ran my final checks. I'd oiled the runners on the sliding doors of the wardrobe so they were nice and quiet; I'd set up the mp3 and stereo ready to play, even put some of Penny's fluffy toys on the pillows to make it look nice and innocent-little-girl type kinky. Everything was ready. I turned the all the lights off apart from the hall and landing and took up my position in the wardrobe and waited.
And waited... and waited...
Finally I got fed up with waiting and went to the bathroom for a piss. I flexed the old JT and shook off the drips. I hadn't done badly when it came to where our dear Lord dished the dicks, but I always admired nice todgers on other blokes, especially nice big ones like you see in the pornos, especially the gay ones. I'd recently watched one on the net, one of those free-stream jobs. This one guy was hung like a donkey. I swear it was over a foot long. He was sitting on the toilet sucking himself off. It was amazing... lucky bastard. He was a fucking contortionist, must have been double-jointed or something because he virtually got the whole length of it into his mouth. Fucking sword swallower or what? I found it a real turn-on and had to have a good old wank while I watched it. Shot my cum all over the screen and keyboard at the end. That took some clearing up I can tell you.
I washed my hands, tidied myself up and checked the time. It had been about eight-thirty when Penny had phoned. It was now five past nine. Where the hell had she got to? I thought about calling her mobile, but then thought better of it. I didn't want to mess things up. There was probably a good reason why she was late getting back with you know who. I got myself a beer from the fridge, cracked the can and took a good swig. This waiting around business was getting me all twitchy and I needed a bit of Dutch courage – Dutch lager to be precise. Five minutes later I heard laughter at the front door and then the key turning in the lock. I tiptoed quickly up the stairs to the bedroom and took up my position once again. Game on!
I was only just in time. Penny and matey didn't hang about. I heard them laughing and joking their way up the stairs almost immediately.
"I know what you need, you naughty boy."
I heard them come into the bedroom, still giggling and being smutty. Penny clicked the bedside light on.
"What do you have in mind?" His voice.
"I thought I'd spice things up a bit," Penny said. "Make things more exciting."
"Really? Don't you find me spicy enough as I am?"
"Course... it's just that I get really, really turned on by tying a guy down and blindfolding him. I love to tease him when he's helpless."
"Ooh, baby... Bring it on!"
Penny giggled. I heard shuffling and scuffling, shoes being taken off, a drawer opening. "I'm going to tie you up and blindfold you and I'm going to give you such a blow job your balls will very likely hit the ceiling."
I heard him laugh, and then Penny.
There was a bit more banter and smuttiness while she tied him to the bedposts and then it all quietened down and then all I could hear was him sighing and groaning and little teasing giggles coming from Penny. I heard a zip being slowly drawn down.
"Oh, fuck, you're something else, baby."
Now we were getting close to it. She was very good, Penny's mum would've been impressed too... not just a drama queen - an Oscar winning performance by the sounds of it. I knew my turn wasn't far off.
And then I remembered something - something she hadn't done, something very important... She'd forgotten the bleeding music. But then, as if my thoughts had been telepathically relayed, and with matey's moans and groans getting louder and louder, she switched on the mp3 player. Yeees! Je t'aime... moi non plus, by Serge Gainsbourg, absolutely fucking perfect.
"I like making love to music," she said, reassuringly. "Especially this one, and especially when I suck a guy."
"Oh yeah, baby... you're a romantic too." He sounded breathless. Quite understandable, really.
"I won't be a minute, sweetie," she said. "I'm just going to get something."
And I knew that was my cue to take the stage. The wardrobe door slid silently open and out stepped yours truly.
"Good luck, darling," she whispered and quietly left the room.
Well, this was it. My blood was pumping. I was actually trembling with excitement. Let's Get it On was coming out of the speakers. Nice timing, giving a blow job to the accompaniment of Marvin Gaye.
I took one look at the guy lying there on the bed. He looked kind of taller lying down, taller than he appeared at the Bistro anyhow. For a moment I wanted to laugh. It seemed absurd, looked absurd. A bloke tied down to the bed and blindfolded, there for the taking. The soft lighting of the bedside lamp gave everything a surreal look. I'd better just get on with it before the scene descended into farce rather than eroticism.