“Your eye is twitchy!” I said to my spouse, mid-conversation.  “Does it hurt?”  I watched his right eyelid make that vibrate motion.

“No, it’s ok,” he said.

“Is it annoying?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

“Maybe you’re looking too much,” I said.  “How about later I blindfold you and give you some non-sight sensations?”


He was good with that.  So later he came to me naked and lay on the bed.  We covered his eyes.  “I love you,” he said.

I laughed.  “You sound like you’re going somewhere.  Where are you going?  Are you going away to subspace and losing your language?”  It was funny because those are things I’m more likely to do.

“No!’ he said.

“Well, please tell me if something hurts or you don’t want me to do it,” I said.

“Ok,” he said.


I touched his naked chest, his tummy, his sides, his shoulders, his arms.  His hands, his chin.  “Does that feel good?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“Mmm, your skin is so smooth,” I said appreciatively.

I touched his legs–he was lying in a reclining goddess position, the soles of his feet together.  I touched his knees, inner thighs, hips, the place right above his dick.

Then I touched his balls.  They were loose and soft.  “Is this ok?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

It’s been ten years, and I don’t think he’s ever said no.  Still I ask.  It feels respectful, and his answer is a good way to gauge how awake he is.  I can hear his mood in that one syllable.

I kissed his nipple, and he said, “You kissed me!”

“Yep!  You wanna flip over?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said.  I got off the bed to give him room to turn over, since he couldn’t see me, wearing the blindfold.


Then I touched his back, his ass, the backs of this legs.  “Is this ok?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

I kissed his ass.  “You have more pimples on your ass than usual,” I said.  They were red dots.

“Ok,” he said.

“Are your eyes resting?” I asked

“Yes,” he said.

“Maybe they’re still trying to see.  Like in a dream,” I said.  “Will you breathe with me?”

I took a few deep breaths.  It felt good, and he breathed with me.


He turned over again.  When he was lying there on his back, I could see his dick was erect.

“Hmm, looks like you were thinking about something different,” I said.

“No, not really,” he said.  “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I said, dreamily touching his chest.  It would comfort me, if he touched me like that.

“I was thinking about this nude beach.  This nude beach, and then it has a part where people have sex there.  Would you go there with me?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“What if I was sucking your dick, at that part of the beach, and someone wanted to watch?  Would you like that?”

“Yes,” he said.

I know he has an exhibitionist streak, or at least is very unafraid of being seen naked.  So I wondered if that idea of being watched was hot for him.


“Can I put something slippery and rub your dick for a long time?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

I rubbed his dick for a long time, a beach sex fantasy playing in my head, unfurling like a leaf.  I didn’t experience directing it–almost like the fantasy spun itself.

To be continued–beach sex fantasy, next time.

By Nest

Curious, disabled Earth Goddess, telling the truth.

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