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I took over as manager of a small branch of an electrical retailer when my predecessor died of a heart attack. I’m pretty satisfied in my own mind that he worked himself to death, because although I was titled ‘assistant manager’ and supposed to be his deputy, he would never let me have any part in running the branch. I was kept completely in the dark, never allowed to order stock, check the till, or even open up in the morning and lock up at night. I reckoned he was frightened that I would show him up for the incompetent fool that he was and I mourned his passing for all of two seconds.
Now finally, at age twenty-six, I had the chance to prove myself, but with the handicap of never having been shown how. I wasn’t going to let on about that though, because the powers that be might just have decided that I wasn’t ready yet and put another idiot in over me. I just had to think on my feet and basically make it up as I went along.
That worked all right in the shop, but when it came to completing the week’s returns for head office I was lost and eventually I had to ring for help. Fortunately, as it turned out, the area manager was out when I first rang and I ended up talking to his helpful and very understanding secretary. She and I between us managed to come up with a reasonably accurate and comprehensive picture of the previous week. I was relieved and grateful and I told her so. No problem, she told me, just ring me next week and we’ll see if you’ve got it right before you get put through to the boss.
I did as I was asked and we went through my returns together, corrected a few mistakes and pronounced ourselves satisfied. The area manager said so too, congratulating me on both the shop’s performance and on a clear set of figures. I was indebted to his secretary once again, but she didn’t seem to mind and I enjoyed talking to her anyway.
We did the same thing for the next few weeks, even when it was clear to both of us that I knew how to do the paperwork by myself now, and we established quite a friendly rapport, engaging in chit-chat that had nothing at all to do with work. It got eventually to the stage where either I or Amy (apparently her name was actually Amelia, but she hated it in full and preferred to use a shortened version) would ring each other during slack times just for a chat.
The subjects ranged far and wide but, as you might expect, we often ended up talking about sex, and these discussions sometimes got quite deep because she had a fairly open attitude to the subject and didn’t seem fazed by any topic. I must admit that I enjoyed them, and so did Amy, judging by the rich, deep throated chuckle that often greeted a particularly risqué comment.
One particular day I happened to tell her about a friend who had attended a party and then found his way to a bedroom where, groping around in the dark, he had encountered a girl lying on the bed, either asleep or passed out. His touch woke her up and they ended up having sex there and then, after which he fell asleep himself and she wandered off to rejoin the party. The point of the tale was that he never had discovered which girl it was he had fucked as everything happened with the lights off, and afterwards he often looked around his friends and acquaintances wondering who it was.
Her answer surprised me, for she commented wryly that the only way she was likely to get laid after next week was in the dark. I had to ask why.
“Because on Tuesday of next week I’m having my head shaved for charity.” She told me.
“And is that likely to put your husband off?” I asked innocently, knowing that she was styled as ‘Mrs’.
I was treated to that same rich chuckle. “No, we parted company a couple of months ago. Right now I’m single and reluctantly celibate.”
The phrase ‘reluctantly celibate’ caught my attention, but then I realised just how little I knew about her. I had no idea if she was even the sort of woman I might fancy. I didn’t even know her age, if she was fat or thin, blonde or brunette, or even straight or gay. So I asked!
“I’m within five years of thirty, and I’m not saying from which side, I’m straight, I’m average height, build and so on, and I’m a brunette, and that’s all you’re getting.” She said it with such finality that I didn’t push it, but it was enough to put her in the ‘interesting’ category.
The next day we were talking again and she mentioned my party-going friend again, eventually admitting that she suspected it actually might be me.
“No, I’m afraid not. I don’t get that sort of luck.” I told her.
“So would you like the idea of screwing the arse off of someone and then never know what they looked like?”
She’d seized on my offhand comment, and so I answered more carefully this time. “I think the idea is bizarrely interesting, but how could I be sure it wasn’t someone like a friend’s wife, or anything like that.”
“Yeah, me too.” She said thoughtfully. “I was thinking about it last night and I got turned on by the whole idea. But I have the same reservations. I’d hate to think I might have gaziantep escort just fucked my brother.”
She changed the subject.
“But, more importantly, are you going to sponsor me for my head shave?”
“Yes, why not! What charity is it for?”
“It’s for a local hospice for children with leukaemia. I figured that they all end up bald from their treatment, so why shouldn’t I? That’s got to be worth a few quid, hasn’t it?”
It was definitely a good cause, so I promised fifty pounds if she went through with it, as I knew she would, and the conversation ended not long after.
It was a few days later when the subject of sex with an unseen partner was brought up again, and not by me I hasten to add.
“You know something?” She asked rhetorically. “I’ve been thinking about your friend again.”
I knew instantly which friend she meant, and exactly what she was thinking about. It seemed that the idea was beginning to take root.
“I’ve figured out how to have sex with someone in comfort and still not see them or have them see me.”
“Oh yes?” I asked, waiting for her to enlighten me.
“I think that if I blacked out my bedroom window and then got into bed and left the front door unlocked, my invisible partner could come in and, as long as he switched the stairs lights out before opening my bedroom door, he could get in and service me without us ever seeing each other. What do you think?”
“Are you talking hypothetically, or are you serious?”
There was quite a pause; so long in fact that I knew what the answer would be before it eventually came.
“I’m being serious.”
I couldn’t help but wonder why she had suddenly developed this urge to make love to an unseen partner. I wondered fleetingly if she were in fact blind, but then I remembered her speaking of her computer screen, then I wondered if she might be scarred, but that didn’t make sense if she didn’t want to see them either. In fact it didn’t seem to make a lot of sense at all, and the whole thing sounded a little bit risky to me.
“And where will you find someone you’ve never met, but who you can trust enough to let them into your home and into your bed and not worry about it?”
“I’ve already thought about that, and I know just the person.”
“Oh yes. Who?”
There was another long pause and this time the answer had just come to me when she spoke again.
Now the long pause was from my side of the conversation.
“You want me to creep into your bedroom and make love to you, and then go away again without ever seeing me?”
Another year long pause. I’d spoken to her and knew her as a nice person, but I’d no idea if she was good to look at, although her brief self description was promising. But it was the idea that every stranger I met from then on could be a woman I’d fucked that really appealed. I was tempted, very tempted. Suddenly I understood her curiosity. It wasn’t just the sex at the time, but the aftermath, the not knowing if you’d ever meet your lover, or if you might both share a park bench not knowing that you’d also shared a bed.
“Will you? Please? I know it’s weird, but the idea has really got to me and you’re the only invisible friend I’ve got that I could trust.”
All at once I knew what the answer should be — my cock was already giving its verdict by uncoiling inside my pants.
Then I suddenly remembered how far away the head office actually was.
“So long as you don’t commute to work from the other side of the country.”
She chuckled that rich sexy chuckle again. “No, I live a lot nearer to you than you think. I checked.”
She told me where she lived, and she was right. She lived no more than thirty miles away, in fact she lived closer to me than to her office. Now, I shan’t bore you with the arrangements we made, because in the end it all boiled down to us agreeing to meet on Wednesday evening of the following week. One day after she had her head shaved, and I must admit that for some reason the idea of bedding a bald woman added to the spice.
I did ask her if she wanted to put any limits on what we did together. That’s easy, she told me, I’ll say yes if I like it and no if I don’t. If only everything were that simple.
The appointed evening eventually came, taking about three weeks to arrive or so it seemed to me, and I pulled up outside a very expensive bungalow that carried the address I was looking for. Actually, it’s a good job she’d told me about a particular tree in her neighbours garden, or I might not have believed I’d found the right address. She obviously had more money than I did.
The key was where she said it would be and I let myself in and locked the door, putting the key into the prearranged dish on the hall table. Now I stood in a stranger’s hall, still not totally convinced that I’d got the right house and still not absolutely certain that I wasn’t being set up in some way. Would I find all the bedrooms empty, would I get arrested as a burglar, or would my own place gaziantep escort bayan have been robbed when I got back? Yes, I know it’s not nice, but it’s the sort of thing that goes through your mind when you can’t quite believe your luck. You know the old saying, ‘if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is’. Well, being invited to go and have sex with a total stranger with no questions asked does sound too good to be true, doesn’t it, so I stood there wondering what to do next.
In the end I decided that having come this far I had to go through with it, so I looked around, took my bearings and headed for the door that I’d been promised would lead to her bedroom. The light switch for the hall was a couple of yards or so along the wall, so I switched it off and stood in total darkness for a minute or so while my eyes adjusted. Then I slid along the wall, found the handle to the bedroom door, counted ten and opened it.
I closed the bedroom door behind me, leaving myself in the dark again. Now, if I’d thought that the hall was total darkness then in this room the darkness was absolute, there wasn’t the slightest suggestion of grey in any of the black, not the first hint of anything except stygian blackness. That, above anything else, convinced me that I was in the right place. I mean, normal curtains just aren’t that efficient.
I stood motionless in the dark and listened, trying to pick out the sound of any movement or another person breathing in the gloom. My own breathing sounded loud in my ears and I thought I could, just possibly, hear quiet exhalations a little to my right.
“Amy?” I tried just to speak softly, but my voice came out as a petrified squeak.
There was a quiet but unmistakable chuckle in the dark.
“Yeah honey, you’re in the right place.” Her voice sounded huskier and even richer than it did on the ‘phone. “Now get those clothes off and come here.”
I put out my hands and cautiously felt my way through the room looking for an invisible bed. I was still a little wary and wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to be the only naked person around before I stripped off. Of course, even though my hands were outstretched and waving side to side and up and down, it was my shin that found the bed first and so my first spoken word after calling out her name was a stifled ‘shit’.
The chuckle came again, closer this time.
I crouched down and felt out with my hands, finding the side of what I took to be a pillow with one and definitely the edge of a duvet with the other. I ran them along, back and forth, trying to orientate myself to the bed, then having done that I took my life in my hands and inserted one hand under the duvet and into the warmth of an occupied bed. Gingerly I moved my hand around, exploring the space with my fingertips until I encountered warm, soft, female skin. God, even though I was looking for it, expecting it even, to come across the naked flesh of someone you’ve never met before like that gives a jolt like you wouldn’t believe. This was it, this was what I was here for, but the reality hit me like a brick. My heart pounded suddenly and I felt my mouth go dry. Tentatively I gently moved my fingertips over the skin. It was a hip. It was the hip of someone lying on their back, a female hip — too prominent for a man’s and far too soft.
“I know you’ve not undressed yet, so now you know that I haven’t got clothes on you’d better get stripped off and get in.” That was a command.
I obeyed, wondering what to do with my discarded clothing and not wanting to trip over it at some time in the future. In the end I piled it together against a wall that my searching hands found running behind the bed. Here I was, naked in as strange woman’s bedroom and still wondering just a little bit if now was the time the lights would come on and I’d be faced with an angry husband or half the local police force, ‘Yes officer, that’s the man who’s been stalking me’. If it was going to happen, then it was going to be now. But it wasn’t.
“Get in, honey, I’ve been waiting to meet you.”
I got in, sliding down under the duvet, a mumbled ‘sorry’ for hitting an unseen knee with my foot, and then it was done, I was lying next to a woman I’d never seen. There was movement next to me and a hand, a slim cool feminine hand, was rested on my chest while a long slim leg was draped over mine and a voice whispered right in my ear, a breathy, urgent, sexy whisper.
“God, I’m ready for this.”
There was no doubt now, this was for real. I felt lips on my face, kissing me gently, trailing lightly over my cheek as they sought my mouth in the dark. I turned slightly towards them, meeting them half way, kissing them as lightly as they kissed me. They were soft lips, full lips, beautiful feminine lips that responded to mine, tenderly pressing on my mouth, nibbling at my lower lip, parting my own lips with an insistent tongue tip until we were kissing deeply.
I turned myself to face her, my cock growing by the second, and my hand snaked out to pull her to me, threading gaziantep bayan escort it’s way under her body to wrap around her shoulders and hold her closer. She did not resist, firm full breasts, large breasts, were pressed against my chest, her thigh laid over mine, the other coming up against my side so that my cock was against her belly and her hip was against my leg. She felt so nice, so bloody feminine, she felt just like every woman should – and that’s when I thought about her head.
I reached out with my free hand, finding her shoulder, tracing it to her neck along warm soft skin, and then up to her head, her completely hairless, smoothly bald head. It felt wonderful. I ran my hand around and over it, gliding my palm over that naked skull, feeling the warmth of her skin, the slight pulse of blood through arteries and veins never usually found. It was a fabulous sensation, far better than I had ever imagined. Don’t ever let baldness in a woman put you off, whatever its cause. There is something about a shaven female skull that defies description.
“Mmm, love your hairstyle.” I told her.
“Good. I did wonder what you’d make of me.”
My hand slid down her back, following the curve of her spine, touching her skin, caressing her, discovering her body. She felt wonderful, soft and feminine but still with that unmistakable toned quality of someone who looks after themselves. My fingers traced the little bumps of her backbone, down to where the soft rise of her bottom diverted my exploration to her buttocks, the firm and rounded globes of a classic womanly bottom. I ran my hand around them and under them, stroking the back of the thigh still laid across mine. She breathed deeply in my ear, sounding as horny as I felt. My fingertip delved into the cleft between her buttocks, not quite touching her intimately but bringing a groan of excitement anyway before she shifted slightly and dislodged my hand.
“Slow down a bit, babe.” She whispered huskily. “Let’s take our time, half the fun is in the journey. Lie back and enjoy.”
She pushed me gently but insistently onto my back, and I didn’t resist. Lying on her side alongside me Amy started to roam her free hand over me, beginning on my face. Her fingers were gentle, careful, and yet confident as they tiptoed over my skin, touching and stroking my nose and my mouth, feeling their way softly over my eyes, soft like butterfly wings taking in my contours. She ran her fingers into my hair, outlined my ears, tugging gently at the lobes with just a hint of that gorgeous chuckle of hers, and then stroked my neck. Oh and how she stroked it, just, and only just, making contact with the very tips of her cool slim fingers, sending shivers down my spine and waves of arousal into my groin. I wanted her at that very moment, but I knew I would have to wait.
From my face she moved to my shoulders and chest, wandering over me, roving with gentle fingers and a soft palm to check out my biceps, finding my nipples and rolling them lightly between her fingertips before tracing a way to my stomach, touching me so lightly that my skin twitched from the contact. She leaned closer to reach further down, bringing her face close to my cheek, touching it with her lips and the faint breeze of her breathing.
“You feel good.” She whispered, trailing the backs of her fingers over my stomach, heading ever lower.
“And that feels fantastic.” I told her, my voice cracking slightly from the intensity of the sensations. She had taken much longer over her exploration than it takes to write about it, and I was so aroused I could hardly speak.
I gasped suddenly as the back of her hand made sudden contact with the tip of my very erect cock, and her hand paused in its journey.
“What have I found?” She teased, still whispering directly into my cheek. “This feels interesting.”
She wrapped her fingers around my shaft and felt along its length, making my toes curl from the sensation of those fingers gliding over me.
“Mmm, you’ve definitely come to the right place.” The words were soft in my ear, but so damn effective. I felt my cock throb with excitement.
She paused there for a moment or two, just holding my cock and purring the occasional little ‘mmm’ in my ear with her fingers gently fondling me. It felt so damn good, but then she moved on, sliding the flat of her hand down my shaft and onto my balls, the tips of her fingers bending around my sac. Instinctively I parted my legs a little to give her better access, letting her hand glide over my scrotum and cup my balls, lifting and rolling them as if testing their potential.
Her hand played with me for a few moments and then moved back along my shaft, tracking sharp little fingernails over the underside of my cock and bringing another gasp from my lips. The palm of her hand then massaged my helmet and her fingers played around my shaft before she reached again for my balls, turning them with her fingers as she fondled my sac.
The buzz of having an invisible and unknown woman touching me like that was unbelievable, it was making my leg muscles tense up from the strength of the sensations and my fingers dig into the mattress. It was turning me on to the extent that I would not be able to remain passive for much longer. Already I had to consciously stop myself from reaching out for her.
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