The girls wing you Daphne

It starts with Mars and Val laughing as they put the blindfold on you. Standing in the middle of your room, you can’t see anything. All you feel are their hands running across your body, lifting off your shirt, now tugging at your pants…

“Is this really necessary?” you ask.

“We got very specific instructions,” Mars says.

“That included stripping me down to my boxers?”

You feel your boxers going too. Reflexively, you drop your hands to block the girls from accessing your crown jewels, only for your hands to be swatted away playfully.

“In the nude,” Val whispers into your ear. “She was clear about that.”

Off go your boxers, and you wonder what she’s planning. This had better be good.

“Natarajasana,” Mars whispers into your other ear. “She wants you in the King Dancer pose.”

“She wants… what?” you ask.

“Very specific instructions,” Mars repeats herself.

“Hold the pose when she comes into the room. Good luck,” Val says, sounding more amused than you would like her to be.

“This better not be a prank,” you call out, but then you hear footsteps and the door shut, and you’re left alone in the darkness.

After a few seconds, it’s clear that they’re not coming back. Left with nothing better to do, you begin to adopt the dancer’s pose. You stand on one leg, lifting your other one back. Your rear leg doesn’t get much higher than your waist, and it’s a bit of a pinch to reach back and hold it up. You extend your other hand forward. That’s it. That’s the pose. As the seconds start to drag on, you find yourself wobbling hard, struggling to maintain balance on one foot. Sweat starts to bead along your naked back. But you’ve got to hold the pose. The girls told you so. You redouble your focus, concentrating on your breathing, making sure to keep your form as clean as possible.

The door opens not long after that. You hear footsteps again. In the darkness, your hearing has sharpened, and you can tell that it’s just a single pair of feet, lighter on her toes. The door closes. You hear faint breathing, and the hint of a perfume, faintly citrusy—maybe yuzu?—wafts over to you.

Soft hands push your extended arm up, adjusting your hips and your stance with small nudges, placing your raised leg just so, stabilizing you, giving you strength and a flexibility that you didn’t know you had.

“See what you could achieve with a little more practice?” Daphne asks.

“This is much better,” you say. “You’ve shown me what I’m missing.”

“I can’t help but think that you could have learned this on your own,” Daphne says. “When Mars and Valentine came to me, I thought you would be ready.”

“Ready for what?” you ask.

“There were some poses I hoped to explore with you. They require a certain amount of skill to pull off,” she says.

You feel her place her hand against your chest. Is she feeling you up? No, just pushing you lightly back into place as you begin to sag. You can’t help but feel that you’ve disappointed her.

“You have a lot of potential,” she says. You hear her breathing grow louder, the heat of her breath against your neck, as she draws closer to you. “Your instincts guide you well. Against my best judgement… it is possible… we could give it a try.”

There is a rustling sound. You hear fabric hitting the floor, then more, in soft thumps. You swallow. When a long silence follows, you begin to wonder what’s happening. Eventually, you hear Daphne’s voice again.

“Pay close attention to what I say. It is important that you get this exactly right, or it will not work. First, plant both feet down and return to mountain pose. Good. Move your feet a little further apart. Center yourself. Look straight ahead. No, don’t remove the blindfold. Feel your center from within yourself, and gaze ahead. There we go. Take a deep breath.”

Daphne wraps her arms around you, bringing you into a gentle hug. She slowly begins to press her body against you, and you quickly realize that this is her bare body. Skin against skin, her legs against yours, her hips into yours, her breasts smushed up against your back, her head resting on your shoulder…

“Keep breathing,” she whispers into your ear. “Why’d you stop?”

“N-nothing,” you say, taking a deep breath. “It’s just… unexpected.”

Her hands wrap around your cock, and you suck in another deep breath.

“Breathe regularly,” she says, even as she begins to fondle you down there.

“This is a little… distracting,” you say, trying to keep your breathing even.

Daphne shifts behind you, and you feel the points of her nipples drag against your back. It’s even more of a strain to breathe normally now.

“I am simply preparing you,” she says, and now you feel her kissing your collarbone, feather-light presses of her lips against your skin.

Her hands slowly work on your lengthening cock. Blood rushes down below. In the darkness and the silence, all you feel are her hands on your aching member. It’s strangely comforting, feeling her body against yours, as if you were the little spoon to her big spoon.

But one second she’s there, pressed against you, her hands wrapped around your stiff cock, and the next, she’s gone.

You hear her shuffling slightly. When she next speaks, her voice comes from somewhere ahead of you.

“Do you know why I asked you to take the dancer’s pose?”

“Because you wanted to test me?” you ask.

“That is half the story,” she says. “But the other half is just as important. I wanted you to become intimately familiar with it. Picture me in such a pose.”

You do. Daphne is awfully hot like that. It’s doubly so, now that you know she’s naked.

“Some poses fit snugly into others. It is a puzzle you may solve.”

She lets her words hang there, between the two of you, until it is clear that she won’t say anything more, and that the rest is up to you now. You tentatively take a step forward and feel in front of you. Still blindfolded, at first you grasp air. But when your hand finds the arch of her foot high in the air, you trace a line down her leg, across her thigh and into the quivering heat of her sex. She is sopping wet.

Your cock is rock hard. You hold up her leg, taking a step forward so that it balances against your shoulder, and as you do so, you feel your body press up against hers. This time, it’s your turn to wrap an arm around her, keeping Daphne steady. Your cock brushes against her ass, and you know you’re close. With your other hand, you guide yourself true, and you hear her moan as you slip inside of her. Your bulbous head pushes in and you’re overwhelmed by the sensation.

Though you can’t see her, somehow this only intensifies the feeling of being inside your Japanese captain. She is tight. So tight. Pushing into her is like a searing heat that clamps down on you, your cock struggling to break into her. But break into her you do, until your hips are pressed tight against her, your length buried into her. You slowly rock back and forth, acclimating her pussy to your size.

“Umph, that’s so good,” you hear her whisper to herself.

“You’re gorgeous,” you say in response.

“You can’t see me, you couldn’t know,” she replies.

“But I can feel you,” you say, your cock twitching inside of her to prove your point.

“Then feel me up,” she says.

You place both hands on her hips, guiding yourself still deeper into her, and then up your hands go. They explore the fit musculature of her abs and the tautness of her stomach. They savour the gentle curve of her tits, toying with the perky nipples that sit atop them. They appreciate the rounder curves of her ass, cupping them and squeezing them. Your hands roam everywhere, learning in the darkness what your eyes could not tell you. You fuck her all the while. Long and deep strokes take you closer and closer to your climax. Somehow, though it’s not fast, the sheer intensity of the copulation has you feeling like you could cum at any moment. Your breaths come hard, fast, strangely exerted by the effort.

“You weren’t prepared,” Daphne says. “You’re too close.”

“Not… prepared?” you ask, struggling to keep your focus. It’s all you can do to not cum.

“It’s safe. Release yourself,” she says.

At her words, you let out a wordless moan, firing off into her. You hold on tight to Daphne, with her somehow acting as your pillar as you shake, quivering as you shoot your load, the very act seeming to drain something deep inside of you.

“Let it all go,” she says, and you slump against her, struggling to catch your breath.

You stand there together for a minute, until, in your post-orgasmic haze, you think to ask: “Why the blindfold?”

You hear a quiet laughter.

“Because so long as you don’t see, I could be anyone. A captain cannot lie with her players. That would be improper. So let me be a ghost, a mirage, a dancer, here one moment, and gone the next.”

With that, she detaches herself from you, and a moment later, you hear the door shut, and this time, you know that you’re finally alone for the night.

The Count +1
Daphne +10