"You know, it's funny," I said to Richard as we strolled through the vast, open fields of the estate. "I never thought I'd end up here, in the middle of nowhere, playing guide to a blind guy."
He chuckled, his hand resting lightly on my arm for guidance. "Well, I'm not exactly a typical tourist attraction."
Richard's laughter was contagious, a gentle ripple that seemed to echo through the quiet countryside. His words had a touch of humour, but I could feel the hint of self-deprecation beneath them. He had been blind since a childhood accident, and while he had grown up in this sprawling estate, the outside world was a place he rarely ventured. His family had hired me as a companion for the summer, someone to help him navigate the paths and explore the world beyond his fingertips.
We approached a small stream, its gurgling music growing louder with each step. "You can feel it, right?" Richard asked, his eyes closed as if he could see the water flowing before him. "The coolness of the air, the sound of the water. It's like a secret concert, just for us."
I nodded, watching as he leaned in, his free hand outstretched to touch the water's edge. His smile grew wider as the cool liquid danced over his fingertips. It was moments like these that made me realise the depth of his connection to the world around him. Despite his lack of sight, he experienced the world in a way that was so profound, so intimate, that it made me question my reliance on vision.
As the sun began to set, we made our way back to the big house. The air grew cooler, the smell of freshly cut grass mingling with the scent of distant BBQ. The crickets started their evening serenade, a soundtrack to our quiet walk.
"You know, you're not so bad for a sighted person," Richard said, his voice warm. “Shame I can’t see you though.”
I couldn't help but laugh. "Thanks, I guess that's a compliment."
We continued in comfortable silence, the only sounds the crunch of gravel underfoot and the distant call of an owl. As we approached the house, I noticed the way Richard's hand tightened around my arm. His steps grew more cautious, his head tilting slightly as if listening for something unheard.
"Is everything okay?" I asked, glancing down at him.
He took a deep breath, his expression a mask of concentration. "Yes," he said finally. "I just... I feel like there's something I need to tell you."
The words hung in the air, unspoken. I waited, my curiosity piqued, as we reached the steps leading to the grand entrance of the house. Richard paused, his hand reaching out to trace the railing as if seeking reassurance.
"I’m gay, but I think you know that already. I just wanted you to know." He stumbled over his words, the tension in his voice clear even to my untrained ears.
“That’s cool with me,” I responded.
“But I’ve never done anything,” he continued.
I frowned, not fully understanding. "Done anything? Like what?"
He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the effort of his confession. "Sexual," he murmured. "I've never been with anyone. I just thought you should know."
The revelation caught me off guard, but I tried to keep my voice steady. "That's okay, Richard. It's your choice. There's no rush, and time is very much on your side."
He nodded, but the silence that fell between us grew heavier. We climbed the steps, the weight of his secret resting on my shoulders. As we reached the door, he turned to me, his sightless eyes searching my face for a reaction.
"I trust you," he said. "I just wanted you to know."
"Thanks, and I won't let you down, and if you want to talk more about how you feel, I'm here for you," I tried to assure him, smiling at the thought that my ward, my companion, was still a virgin if what he said was correct.
The door swung open, spilling the warm glow of the house's interior onto the cool evening. I had no idea how the summer would unfold, but I knew one thing for sure: my job as Richard's companion had just become a whole lot more interesting, knowing he hadn't experienced anything more than the estate and its rural environment.
As a twenty-one-year-old, Richard was a paradox of strength and vulnerability. His tall, fit frame was a testament to the physical therapy that had been a constant in his life since losing his sight. He had a gentle touch, a way of moving through space that seemed to be guided by an internal map as much as my sight. His skin was the colour of freshly baked bread, kissed by the sun despite his blindness. His features were sharp, with a strong jawline and high cheekbones that spoke of his mother's heritage. His hair was a dark, unruly mop that curled around his ears and neck, inviting the touch of a gentle hand. He was undeniably attractive, and I felt a strange mix of protectiveness and attraction towards him that I had not anticipated.
His eyes, though sightless, held a depth that could make anyone pause. They were a deep, dark brown, almost black, and they seemed to look right through you. When he spoke, they remained still, unmoving, as if listening to the very essence of your words. His smile, on the other hand, was wide and genuine, revealing a set of teeth that gleamed in the soft light. There was something about the way his eyes crinkled at the corners that made you feel like you were the only person in the room, the only voice that mattered.
"So, I'm pleased you are here, but tell me, you have often said you are a bit of a drifter. Why do you like to drift?" he asked, his tone light. "What's your story?"
"My story?" I said with a smirk. "Not much to tell, I'm afraid. Just a guy looking for something more than the usual grind, I guess."
He tilted his head slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. "And what do you think you'll find here?"
The question was loaded, and I felt a blush creep up my neck. "I'm not sure," I admitted. "But I've got a feeling it'll be interesting and that I suspect, you will be my educator."
"Interesting," Richard responded. "I suspect we will learn from each other, and I suspect we will visit many topics during our friendship and this summer."
I stopped and looked at Richard, unsure how best to respond, but I decided to leave the conversation there, as something we can pick up another time.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of dinner and awkward small talk with Richard's family. They were a strange bunch, distant but kind in their way. His mother hovered, a worried look etched into her features, while his father spoke in booming tones that seemed to echo through the cavernous dining hall. His Sister, Liz, the eldest, flitted in and out, curious about the new face in her home. But it was Richard's quiet presence that held my attention, the way he moved through the room with a confidence that belied his lack of sight.
After dinner, we settled in the library, the scent of old books and leather filling the air. Richard's fingertips danced over the spines of the books; each title whispered to him as he searched for something to read. I watched, fascinated, as he pulled out a well-worn copy of "Jane Eyre."
"It's one of my favourites," he said, handing it to me. "I know it's a bit of a cliché, but the story... It's like a map of the soul."
I took the book, the weight of it feeling significant in my hands. "I'll give it a try," I said, flipping through the pages. "But only if you promise to tell me what you think of it when I'm done reading it to you."
He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Deal."
The days rolled into a pattern of walks and books, of sharing stories and laughter. We grew closer, our friendship deepening as we explored the estate. I would read to him whenever the opportunity arose. It might be in the hay fields or on the veranda, but whenever, Richard enjoyed the way I would read to him. On our walks, he would tell me the names of the birds he would hear, or he would describe the smell and aromas that would drift in the air and wind.
In many respects, I was happy, relaxed, and looked forward to each day that would always be different from the previous. I also liked Richard for his tenderness and love for everything in his life. He would never complain, and he was the type of person whose glass was always half full instead of half empty.
The next morning dawned bright and clear, and Richard woke early, his senses tingling with the scents of the countryside. "Come on," he urged, pulling on my arm. "I can smell the wildflowers in the hay fields. It's going to be a beautiful day to explore."
I groaned, glancing at the clock. "It's barely six."
"I know," Richard said, his excitement undiminished. "But the early bird gets the worm, or so they say. Plus, I have a surprise for you."
I sighed, but the excitement in his voice was infectious. I couldn't help but feel a little thrill at the prospect of an adventure. "Okay, okay," I said, hopping out of bed. "I'll get dressed as quickly as I can. You should get dressed too, in more than your tighty whities and t-shirt."
"Already on it," he said, a mischievous smile in his voice as he disappeared into his dressing room.
Sharing a room with a blind man is great because they keep everything tidy and in order. His bed was next to mine, probably an arm’s length apart, but with the ensuite bathroom and ample storage, I couldn’t complain. Richard wasn’t the best at getting dressed, and quite often I had to dress him otherwise; he would mismatch clothes, wear odd socks or even something more unsuitable, a clash of colours, but as he dressed, I was always on hand to provide help.
I threw on some shorts and a t-shirt, the fabric sticking slightly to my skin from the heat of the room. By the time I had brushed my teeth and combed my hair, Richard was waiting for me, dressed in a pair of shorts and a loose shirt that billowed in the early morning breeze. He had a small pack slung over his shoulder, and something in his demeanour told me that the surprise was something he had been planning for a while.
As we made our way through the dew-kissed grass, he led me to a spot in the fields where the wildflowers grew in a riot of colour, their sweet scent a siren call to the bees that buzzed around them. He had set up a small blanket and a basket filled with fruit, bread, and cheese for breakfast.
We sat down, and the riot of fragrances hit us most beautifully. The heady mix of lavender, honeysuckle, and freshly cut hay filled my nose as Richard's hand found mine, his skin warm and slightly damp from the morning's exertion. "Okay, now tell me what you see," he said, his voice eager.
I took a moment to breathe it all in, trying to capture the essence of the moment in words. "The flowers are like a rainbow that decided to throw a party on the ground. There's purple, yellow, and blue, all dancing together in the early light. The grass is tall around us, waving in the breeze like a sea of green waves. And the smell," I inhaled deeply, "It's like someone bottled up the best parts of summer and let it loose here."
He nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "Good," he said. "Now tell me about the sounds."
I closed my eyes, listening to the symphony around us. The distant lowing of cattle, the rustle of leaves in the trees, the chirping of birds and the occasional buzz of a bee. "It's like we're in the middle of a concert hall, but instead of instruments, it's the world playing for us. The birds are the soloists, their calls weaving in and out of the steady rhythm of the breeze."
"And what does the sun feel like?" he asked, his hand still in mine.
I paused, the question taking me by surprise. "It's... warm," I said finally. "Like a gentle hand resting on my face, waking me up."
His smile grew wider, and for a moment, I wondered if he could see the picture I had painted with my words. Then he leaned in, his nose brushing against my cheek as he took a deep breath. "Thank you," he whispered. "For letting me see it, even if it's just in my mind."
The intimacy of the moment washed over me, and I felt my heart race. I didn't know what was happening between us, but I knew it was a moment to savour.
We ate in companionable silence, the only sounds the rustle of our food and the orchestra of nature around us. The sun grew higher in the sky, casting a soft, dappled light through the leaves of the trees above us. Richard's hand remained in mine, his thumb tracing idle circles on my palm.
As we finished our breakfast, he leaned back, his eyes still closed as he listened to the world. "You know, I think I could fall in love with this spot," he said. "It's like a secret garden, just for us."
I felt a sudden jolt of emotion at his words. "It is pretty perfect," I murmured, my voice thick with feeling.
He turned his face towards me, his eyes still closed. "But not just the spot," he said softly. "You, too."
My heart stopped, the beat of my pulse echoing in my ears like the thunder of a thousand wings. I didn't know what to say, so I just sat there, his hand in mine, his words echoing in my mind like a promise of something I hadn't even dared to hope for.
The rest of the day was a blur of activity and confusion as Richard led me around the estate, his excitement and energy boundless. We walked through the orchard, tasting the sweetness of the early apples, and wandered by the pond where the frogs sang a raucous tune. But his confession remained with me, a warm glow that seemed to light up every corner of my mind, considering I had been living with the family for a month by then.
That night, as we lay in our separate beds in the quiet of our shared room, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between us. The air felt charged, as if the very molecules had rearranged themselves to accommodate the new current that flowed there.
I rolled over, the springs creaking gently, and whispered his name into the darkness. "Richard?"
There was a pause, and then, "Yes?"
"You remember saying something nice to me today?”
“Yes, I do, and it was true. Why?
“I think... I think I might be falling for you," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.
His breath caught, the silence stretching out like an eternity. "Really?"
"Yeah," I said, "When you held my hand today, I felt something I can't describe."
He was silent for a long moment, his chest rising and falling in the darkness. Then, his voice was a whispered caress. "I enjoyed holding your hand. I felt safe and secure and able to be myself."
I took a deep breath, feeling a knot form in my throat. "I know it's weird, but I feel like we've been holding hands all along," I said, turning onto my back and staring up at the ceiling. "I just didn't realise it until today."
"Weird?" Richard echoed. "No, not weird. Just... unexpected.
"Richard, tell me, what do you sense from me?" I requested. "The truth now, not what you think I want to hear."
He took a deep breath, his nose flaring slightly. "You smell like the earth after rain," he said. "Fresh and clean, with a hint of something... wild." His voice grew softer, more contemplative. "And your skin is warm, like it holds the sun's warmth even when it's not shining. It's like... your soul is glowing, even without light."
I swallowed hard, the intimacy of his words making my stomach flip. "And what else?" I whispered.
"Your pheromones?" He chuckled softly. "They're there, like a gentle hum in the air. But it's not just that. It's the way your voice changes when you're excited, the way your heart beats faster when we're close. It's like you're broadcasting your feelings, and my body is tuned to your frequency."
"Is that a good thing?" I managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
"It's a beautiful thing," he murmured. "I've never felt so... alive, so connected to someone, especially when you have a hard-on. I can smell your testosterone leaking from all your glands. It drives me wild with desire."
“Gosh. You can smell when I have an erection? Is there no privacy? I joked.
We lay there for a moment, the only sound the steady thump of our hearts. Then Richard's hand reached out, tentatively finding its way to my shoulder. His touch was light, as if he were afraid to break the delicate balance that had formed between us.
"Can I?" he asked, his voice trembling.
I didn't need to ask what he meant. I knew, deep down in a place that had been yearning for this since the moment I had felt the weight of his hand in mine. "Yes," I breathed.
His hand slid down my arm, his fingers tracing the line of my bicep, then my elbow, then the sensitive skin of my forearm. His touch was feather-light, but it sent shivers down my spine. He was learning what I was like, physically, just as I had learned the landscape of his world.
As his hand reached my hand, he paused, his breath catching. "Is this okay?"
I laced our fingers together, the warmth of his palm pressing against mine. "More than okay," I said, my voice thick with emotion.
He brought our joined hands to his face, his nose nuzzling into my knuckles as he took another deep breath. "I knew it," he murmured. "You smell like home. And a person I can be myself with."
The words sent a jolt through me, and I felt the wall between us crumble. I rolled over, reaching out to cup his cheek, my thumb brushing against the soft skin of his bottom lip. His eyes were open, but unseeing, staring into the space between us as if he could see me there.
And then he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in the softest, sweetest kiss I had ever felt. It was a kiss that spoke of trust and hope, of the beauty of two souls finding each other in the vast darkness.
For a moment, the world stopped spinning, and all that existed was the taste of him, the feel of his breath mingling with mine. Then he pulled back, his eyes searching my face, his hand trembling slightly. "Did you feel that?"
"I felt everything," I said, my voice shaking.
"Can I touch you?" Richard asked with a whisper. "I want to visualise you, all of you."
“How can you do that when you can’t see?”
“I use my fingers to trace the contours of faces and bodies, and my touch translates into the ability to visualise,” he responded.
My heart raced at his question. "In that case, yes," I replied, my voice barely audible. "How would you like to do it?" I asked tenderly, not wanting to show my ignorance.
I watched as he sat up in bed. His Egyptian cotton sheet was falling down his torso, revealing his almost hairless chest. "If you will allow me, I would like you to stand in front of me whilst I use my fingers to trace the contours of your body."
"I can do that," I responded as I pushed my bed sheet back, allowing me to slide my feet over the edge of the bed to stand in front of him, wearing only my tighty whities. Richard did likewise, only to position himself on the edge of the mattress, his hands stretching out into the darkness of the room.
Richard chuckled, declaring, "I can already smell your erection, you know. It's so powerful. What brand of underwear do you wear?"
I felt a flush of embarrassment but also a sense of excitement at his openness. He was blind, so he couldn't see my body or the brand of briefs I was wearing. He reached out tentatively, his fingertips grazing my waist. "May I?"
I nodded, my voice a hoarse whisper. "Yes, and I wear Fruit of the Loom briefs, just like you. Probably larger than yours, though."
Richard's fingertips began their journey, starting at my collarbone, tracing the line of my shoulders and down the length of my arms. His touch was gentle but firm, as if he were trying to memorise the feel of me. "Your skin is like silk," he murmured, his voice filled with wonder. "Soft and warm."
His hands continued to wander, mapping the terrain of my chest, the curve of my stomach, and the muscles of my legs. With each touch, he described what he felt, his words painting a vivid picture in the darkness. "Your chest is broad," he said, his fingers tracing the lines of my pectorals. "And your stomach, it's flat and firm. Your legs, they're like tree trunks, strong and sturdy."
As he reached the waistband of my tighty whities, I felt my cock pulse in anticipation. He paused for a moment, his breath hot against my skin. "Can I?" he asked, his voice a whisper.
I nodded, my breath catching in my throat. His fingers slipped under the fabric, tracing the contours of my erection, his touch light and reverent. "You're so big," he breathed, his voice filled with awe. "It's like... It's like the first time I felt the power of the ocean, vast and unyielding."
My knees almost buckled at his touch, but I managed to stay standing, his words a balm to my soul. "If you want, it can be all yours," I murmured in a whisper, the desire in my voice unmistakable.
With trembling fingers, Richard tugged at the waistband of my tighty whities, the fabric sliding down my thighs. I stepped out of them, my cock standing proud and exposed. He took a deep breath, his nose flaring as he inhaled the musky scent of my arousal. "Your scent," he whispered. "It's like the earth after a storm, rich and alive."
His hand closed around me, his grip firm but careful. He stroked me, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he were learning the shape of something precious. And in that moment, I realised just how much he craved this connection, how much he needed to feel.
Our eyes met, the darkness of his gaze piercing through the veil of night. "I want to know you, all of you," he said, his voice husky. "Would you mind?"
I didn't know how to respond at first, the sudden turn in our friendship leaving me momentarily speechless. But then I mumbled, “Yes,” understanding that this was a moment of profound trust, a bridge we were building between our worlds.
But as I leaned in to kiss him again, the bedroom door swung open with a creak that seemed to echo through the stillness. "Wow, really you two?"
I froze, my heart leaping into my throat as I realised it was Liz, Richard's sister. She stood there, the light from the hallway casting a harsh glow across the room, her eyes wide with shock as she took in the scene before her, me, naked and hard, standing before her blind brother.
"What the hell is going on?" she demanded, her voice a mix of anger and disbelief.
I stumbled back, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. "It's not what it looks like," I stammered, even though I knew there was no way to hide the truth.
Richard's hand tightened on my cock, and for a split second, I thought he might pull away. But instead, he held on, his expression a mask of determination. "Liz," he said, his voice firm. "This is between us."
Liz's eyes narrowed, her gaze flicking between us. "I can't believe it," she murmured. "I never thought..."
"It's okay," I said, my voice shaky. "We're just..." I trailed off, unable to find the words.
"Exploring," Richard finished for me, his voice calm. "We're just exploring each other."
The room was thick with tension, the only sound the shallow breaths we were all taking. I didn't know what to expect from Liz, whether she would be supportive or furious.
But then she sighed, the anger draining from her voice. "Boys, hey," she said, her tone resigned as she walked over to Richard's desk to get his rolling tray. "Bro, I need to borrow your rolling tray tonight and for fucks sake, you two be careful, okay? This isn't a game, what you're doing."
"Sure thing, Sis and I know," Richard said, his voice earnest. "We're not playing around."
Liz's response was swift. "Well, it looks like you're playing from what I can see and for fuck's sake, Bro, let go of his cock when I'm talking to you. It's embarrassing."
I blushed and I swear Richard was blushing too as she then turned and walked out, muttering something about a nice-looking cock as she closed the door softly behind her. We were alone again, the silence stretching out like a tightrope between us.
"Are we okay?" I whispered to Richard, my heart racing.
He nodded; his hand was still wrapped around me. "We're more than okay," he said, his voice filled with a quiet confidence. "We're alive."
And with that, he leaned in, capturing my lips in a kiss that was filled with the promise of everything we were about to discover together. "Turn around, Steve, I still have your back to explore and then your feet, but for that you will have to lie down on the bed."
I complied, turning so that my back faced him. His hands began again, this time starting at my neck and moving down the length of my spine. His fingers traced the indentations of my back, the muscles that rippled beneath the skin as he touched me. "Your skin is like velvet," he murmured. "Soft and smooth."
His hands continued their descent, caressing my lower back, my hips, and then finally coming to rest on the globes of my ass. He squeezed gently, his fingertips digging in just enough to make me gasp. "Your ass is so firm," he said, his voice filled with wonder. "It's like the perfect peach, ripe for the picking."
The heat of his breath against my skin was intoxicating, making me want to lean back into him. But instead, I held still, allowing him to continue his exploration. He palmed my cheeks, his thumbs brushing the sensitive skin between them. "And here," he said, his voice dropping lower. "Here is where I want to touch you most."
I felt his hand slide lower, his fingers lightly brushing the crevice of my ass before sliding down to the back of my thighs. "Your legs," he said, "are like the trunks of ancient trees, strong and unyielding." His hands moved back up, cupping my cheeks once more. "And here, your ass is so... perfect."
He leaned in closer, his nose nuzzling against my skin. "Do you mind if I kiss you here?" he asked, his breath warm and moist against my ass.
I swallowed hard, the idea of his lips on my body sending a bolt of desire through me. "No," I murmured. "I don't mind."
He kissed me, his mouth open and wet, his tongue darting out to taste the skin of my ass. I moaned, the sensation overwhelming. His hands held my cheeks apart as he kissed and licked, his touch gentle and exploratory.
Then, without warning, he bit down, the sudden sharpness making me jump. "Sorry," he whispered. "Did I hurt you?"
"No," I gasped. "It was... surprising. But good."
He chuckled, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh before he began to kiss and nibble again. His hands roamed lower, his fingertips brushing the base of my cock, which was now leaking precum.
I could feel the tension building in my body, the need for release growing with each passing moment. "Can I?" he asked, his voice a breathy whisper. "Can I make you come?"
I nodded, unable to speak clearly. "Yes," I managed. "Please."
Gently, Richard turned me around and pushed me onto the bed only to lean in closer, as he climbed onto the bed as I lay there, his breath hot against my skin as he licked the length of my cock, from base to tip. Then he took me in his mouth, his tongue swirling around my head. I gripped the edge of the bed, my knuckles white as I tried not to moan too loudly.
The feeling was indescribable, his mouth working me with a skill that belied his lack of sight. He used his hands to guide himself, his fingers playing with my balls as he sucked me off. I could feel the tension building, my body coiling tightly like a spring.
"I want to feel you come," he murmured, his voice muffled around my cock. "I want to know what it's like to make you lose control."
I was overwhelmed with sensations and desire, as he coaxed me closer to my climax, when I heard the door open again, and Liz walked in. "Sorry to interrupt again, but Bro, have you got any papers. I forgot to buy some?"
Richard's anger was obvious; his body tensed. "What the fuck, Liz? Can't you see we're busy?" His voice was sharp, a stark contrast to the gentle moan he'd just made moments before.
"Sorry, I thought you would be finished by now, and I need a smoke," she said, sounding genuinely surprised.
I pulled away from Richard, trying to compose myself as I sat up on the bed, my face flushed. "It's okay, Richard," I murmured. "We can... we can finish this later."
But Richard was not having it. "No," he said, his voice firm. "You can wait, Liz. This is my time."
Her eyes widened at his firmness, and she nodded. "Okay," she said, retreating. "But I need some, and maybe, you two would like to join me. Afterall, you can't be that busy because you are still wearing your tighty whities and I figure, Steve, you were almost about to cum."
"Liz, you have no shame and diplomacy, have you?" Richard commented. "Steve, what do you fancy?"
I was dying from shame and embarrassment as his sister stood gazing at my naked form, her brother on top of me, providing a valuable service and enjoying himself. "Perhaps a smoke would be just what we need, Richard," I suggested.
"Ok, Sis, let's go and have that smoke," Richard said, his voice laced with annoyance, as he climbed off me. I watched as he stood up, his erection tenting his tighty whities, a clear indication that our interlude had indeed been interrupted. I couldn't help but feel a pang of regret as the moment we had been building to was shattered by the mundane interruption of his sister's need for rolling papers, which she had now retrieved from his table, as I slipped back on my tighty whities.
As we made our way downstairs, I couldn't help but feel a strange mix of embarrassment and excitement. The thought of Richard's sister knowing what we had just been doing was both terrifying and exhilarating. She was the cool type, the kind of person that you could talk to about almost anything, but this was a topic that was so new and taboo that I didn't know where to begin.
We sat in the garden, the night air cool on my overheated skin as Richard found Liz's cigarette papers and began rolling a joint for both. I took a seat a few feet away, trying to compose myself. Liz lit the joint, the smell of weed mixing with the scent of the night-blooming jasmine that surrounded us.
"You know," she said, passing the joint to Richard. "It's okay to explore your sexuality, Steve. But please, for the love of God, don't mess with Richard's heart."
Her words hung in the air like a warning siren. I knew that what we had just done was more than just a casual hook-up. It was a declaration of intimacy that neither of us had expected or planned for. And now, with Liz's intervention, it felt like we were navigating a minefield of emotions.
Richard took a deep drag from the joint, the tip glowing red in the darkness. "It's okay," he said, his voice calm. "We're just figuring things out."
"Well, just remember," she said, her voice serious. "You're not just playing with his body. You're playing with his heart."
The gravity of her words hit me like a ton of bricks. I had never been in a relationship before, let alone one with such intense and complex dynamics. I looked at Richard, his eyes closed as he took a drag, the smoke curling around his face like a lover's caress. I knew in that moment that I had to tread carefully.
As we sat there, the three of us, passing the joint and listening to the night sounds of the countryside, I felt a strange kinship with Liz. She was looking out for her brother, and in her blunt way, she was giving me her blessing.
But the tension remained, an invisible force that seemed to charge the very air around us. Richard's hand found mine, his touch reassuring as he took another hit. "It's okay," he murmured. "We're okay."
And as the weed took hold, the world around us grew softer, the edges blurring. We talked and laughed, the three of us, sharing stories and secrets as if we were old friends. And in that moment, I realised that this summer was going to be anything but ordinary.
It was Richard, though, who broke the moment of silence, his voice tentative. "Liz," he began, "Would you mind if I finished what I started with Steve?"
Her eyebrows shot up, and she took a long drag from the joint. "Here?" she asked, a wicked glint in her eye. "And now?"
"Well," Richard said with a wry smile, "Who's going to see?"
We all burst out laughing, the tension dissipating like the smoke in the night air. It was a strange and beautiful moment, a blend of humour and vulnerability that only the three of us could understand.
"What, here and now?" Liz repeated, passing the joint back to Richard. "Can I watch, for educational purposes only?"
The idea was ludicrous, and yet it held a certain appeal. Richard's hand found mine, his grip firm, as if he were anchoring himself to the world. I looked at him, his blind eyes shimmering in the moonlight, and knew that I wanted this, wanted him, more than I had ever wanted anything before.
"Okay," I said, my voice a little shaky and feeling very stoned as I stood.
"Bro, he has a huge hard-on waiting for you," his sister stated whilst taking another drag of the joint.
Richard pulled me closer to him, using my buttocks as love handles, and with surprising deftness, he slipped my tighty whities down my legs. I stepped out of them, feeling the cool grass beneath my bare feet. This time, as I stood there, vulnerable and exposed under the moon's watchful gaze, he took me in his mouth without hesitation. His lips were soft and warm, his tongue dancing around my shaft with a skill that made my knees weak.
Liz watched with an open curiosity, not bothering to hide her fascination. "You guys are like a live-action romance novel," she quipped, a smirk playing on her lips. But there was something in her tone that told me she was okay with it, that she was happy her brother was finally experiencing something he had been yearning for.
I moaned as Richard took me deeper, his hand cupping my balls, the pressure building with each stroke of his tongue. It was a heady sensation, one I had never experienced before. And as Liz smoked and observed, her presence adding a thrilling edge to our intimate moment, I felt a strange sense of freedom. It was as if the openness of the countryside had seeped into our very souls, stripping away all pretence and inhibition.
The world around us faded away, leaving only the sound of the night and the feel of Richard's mouth on my cock. I could feel the beginnings of an orgasm, the tension coiling in my belly like a spring wound too tight. "I'm gonna cum," I warned, my voice tight with pleasure.
He nodded, his grip on my hips tightening, urging me closer. And then it hit, my body bucking as I came, the release spilling into his mouth with an intensity that left me gasping for breath. He swallowed, licking me clean before letting go, his expression one of pure satisfaction.
For a moment, our chests were heaving as we tried to catch our breath. Then Liz spoke up, breaking the silence. "Well, that was... something else," she said, a hint of awe in her voice.
Richard chuckled, his cheeks flushed. "It's not every day you get to give your first blowjob with an audience," he quipped, taking the joint from his sister's outstretched hand.
Liz grinned as Richard passed it to me next. "Welcome to the family, Steve," she said. "We do things a little differently around here," as I collapsed onto the grass.
"I'm so stoned," was all I could say, as Richard's hands found my feet.
"I know," he said, his voice filled with amusement. "But I wanted to know how you taste," as he climbed up my body, his strong legs straddling my hips as he brought his face closer to mine. His kiss was gentle at first, a soft pressing of lips as if he were trying to memorise the feel of me. Then, as our kiss grew more passionate as I slipped my hands under the cotton fabric of his tighty whities to massage his buttocks.
"Go for it, Steve, suck my Bbro," Liz ordered.
Without waiting or questioning the order, I rolled Richard off me, and I straddled his legs, pulling his tighty whities down seeing for the first time his beautiful cock. I knew then that I wanted him, and I was going to have him even if his sister was watching.
I leaned over him, my eyes on his, and took him into my mouth. His body tensed up, a soft gasp escaping his lips as I began to suck, my tongue swirling around the tip. His cock was thick and warm, a stark contrast to the cool night air. I took him deeper, savouring the taste of his precum as it coated my tongue. His hands found my head, his fingers threading through my hair as he guided me, showing me what he liked.
Liz watched with a mix of fascination and envy. "You know, I never knew watching someone give head could be so hot," she murmured, taking another hit from the joint she had just rolled.
I ignored her, focusing solely on Richard. I could feel him getting closer, his hips bucking upward, his breath coming in ragged gasps. I picked up the pace, my cheeks hollowing as I took him in deeper, my throat tight around his shaft.
"Oh, fuck," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "I'm gonna cum."
I moaned, eager for the moment, my eyes never leaving his. And then it was happening, his cock pulsing in my mouth as he came, filling me with his warmth. I swallowed it all, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment, of having given him something he had never experienced before.
As I pulled back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, Richard's chest was heaving, his eyes wide with amazement. "Thank you," he whispered. "That was... incredible."
"My pleasure," I said with a grin, feeling a thrill run through me. "Now, let's get back to that smoke your sister has just started."
Liz was still watching us, her expression thoughtful. "You guys are something," she said, handing the joint to Richard. "I had no idea you were into this sort of thing, Steve."
"Neither did I," I admitted, taking a hit from the joint that Richard had just passed to me. "But here we are."
The night air was cool on my skin, but I was burning with passion. Richard's hand found mine, our fingers intertwining as we sat there, the three of us in a silent, smoky embrace. The stars above us twinkled like a thousand eyes, watching as we charted new territories in our relationship.
And as we sat there, sharing the joint and our secrets, I knew that this summer was going to be one that none of us would ever forget. The weed made everything feel surreal and heightened my senses. The smell of the grass, the sound of the crickets, the taste of Richard's cum still lingering on my tongue. It was all so intense, so alive.
"So, Steve," Liz said, her voice a little slurred. "What's your type?"
I took a moment to consider. "I guess," I said slowly, "I like someone adventurous. Someone who's not afraid to try new things."
Richard's hand tightened on mine; his thumb tracing circles on my palm. "And what about you, Richard?" she asked, passing him the joint. "What's your type?"
He took a deep breath, his voice a little shaky. "Someone who sees me," he said. "Someone who doesn't just look at me but sees me. And Steve," he turned to me, "you do that. You see me in a way no one else ever has."
I felt a lump form in my throat at his words. "I'm here for you," I said, leaning in to kiss him again, this time with a newfound tenderness. "For whatever this is."
And in that moment, with the stars as our witnesses, we sealed our fate, our hearts and bodies entwined in a dance that had only just begun.
We finished the joint, the three of us lost in a haze of smoke and emotions. Liz giggled as she stood, her eyes glossy with the high. "Bedtime," she declared, before disappearing into the house, leaving us alone in the garden.
Richard and I stumbled upstairs, the night's revelations still echoing in our minds. We didn't bother with our tighty whities, leaving them on the grass, our bodies still thrumming with the aftermath of our shared pleasure. We fell into his bed, our limbs tangling as we cuddled close, the heat of our skin a stark contrast to the cool sheets.
The night passed in a blur of dreams and whispers, our bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle that had been separated for far too long. We drifted off to sleep, the warmth of our union a comfort in the vast darkness.
Will continue in Part Two
