The Bed Scene

Jan took full advantage of Lisa’s blindness.

While Peter prepared the feather, Jan quickly and silently positioned two extra cameras. One right beside her head to capture every tiny expression on her face in close-up. The second placed directly between her spread legs, aimed straight at her pussy for a perfect, explicit view.

Peter began.

He started with the softest feather, gliding it slowly over her collarbone, then down between her breasts. Lisa’s skin reacted instantly — fine goosebumps spread across her entire body like a wave, her soft hairs standing on end. Her breathing became deeper and more audible.

Peter followed the feather with his lips, placing feather-light, warm kisses along the same path. He kissed the side of her neck, the hollow of her throat, the upper swell of her breasts. Lisa’s face flushed from a soft pink to a deep, embarrassed red. Her nipples hardened visibly, turning a darker, almost purplish pink as they stiffened into tight, sensitive peaks.

He moved lower, kissing her ribs, her stomach, the sensitive skin just above her pubic mound. Lisa’s legs parted a little more on their own. Her outer labia, already slightly swollen and glistening, began to open — first like two soft, plump macarons, then slowly blooming open like a delicate pink flower, revealing the wet, glistening inner lips and her swollen clit.

Peter deliberately avoided direct contact with her nipples and her pussy lips. Instead, he focused on the fine, light-blonde hairs that had grown back since her last shave. Especially the soft, slightly curved little hairs around her clit — he brushed the feather over them again and again, then followed with his warm breath, gently blowing on the sensitive area.

Lisa squirmed. Her hips twitched and lifted, instinctively trying to press her pussy against his mouth or the feather. She was breathing faster now, almost panting.

Peter leaned close to her ear and whispered softly but firmly:

“If you keep squirming like that, I’ll have to tie you down properly… and then I’ll take a paddle and teach you some manners.”

The threat alone was enough.

Lisa’s whole body tensed. Her hips jerked upward, her pussy clenched and then opened again. With a sharp, surprised moan she came — hard — without any direct touch on her clit or nipples. Her pussy throbbed visibly on camera, contracting again and again as waves of pleasure ran through her.

Jan filmed the entire orgasm in high detail, capturing every twitch, every contraction, every glistening drop.

The moment her orgasm began to fade, Jan quickly and quietly removed the two extra cameras before Lisa could recover and remove the blindfold.

Lisa slowly came back to herself. With trembling fingers she pulled the blindfold off.

The first thing she saw was Jan standing right beside the bed — his shorts tented, the swollen, glistening head of his hard cock clearly peeking out of the waistband.

But what was it like for Lisa?

I can’t see anything.

Just this deep, soft blackness behind the blindfold. And because I can’t see, everything else feels so much more intense. Every breath. Every heartbeat. My own pulse is hammering so loudly inside me it feels like the whole room could hear it.

There. That first touch. So impossibly light I almost have to imagine it. And that’s exactly why it hits me like electricity. My collarbone, my skin, my whole body reacts instantly. Goosebumps explode everywhere. Every fine hair stands on end.

Then comes the warmth. His mouth. Soft. Slow. Exactly on the same spot. First that barely-there brush, then the real, warm pressure of his lips. I hold my breath without meaning to. It’s as if my skin still remembers the first touch while the next one is already arriving. Nothing fades. Every single trace stays alive on me.

He moves lower and I can do nothing but wait. That’s what makes me so fucking sensitive. I don’t know where he’ll touch next. Only that he will. My breathing gets heavier. My stomach tightens. Something inside me grows more and more restless, hotter, more awake.

And the worst, most beautiful part is this deliberate not-touching exactly where I need it most. My nipples are rock-hard, throbbing, begging, but he leaves them untouched. The cool air brushes over them and makes them even more sensitive. My clit is swollen and aching. My pussy is already dripping wet. I can feel my lips parting, my juices slowly leaking out of me.

Peter breathes warm air directly onto the fine little hairs around my clit. The sensation is maddening. I squirm, lift my hips, desperately trying to push my wet pussy against his mouth or the feather, but he always pulls away at the last second.

I’m losing my mind.

Then he leans right against my ear. His voice is low, dark, and full of promise:

“If you keep squirming like that, I’ll have to tie you down properly… and then I’ll take a paddle and teach you some manners.”

Those words hit me like a lightning strike.

My whole body tenses. My hips jerk upward. My pussy clenches hard, then flutters open again. A sharp, overwhelming orgasm crashes through me — without him even touching my clit or my nipples. My pussy throbs violently, contracting again and again in powerful waves as pure pleasure rips through me. I moan loudly, my body shaking uncontrollably, my toes curling tight.

I come so hard I forget everything around me for a moment.