Man Blindfolds Woman and Takes the Lead

Eugene’s fist closed in Gwen’s hair and drove her knees to the floor, and before her mouth could open he dragged a dark cloth over her eyes and knotted it tight behind her head.

Gwen’s bare kneecaps hit the tile hard. The pain flashed and sank under the dark. The cloth smelled like cotton and his skin. His fingers stayed knotted in her hair, pulling her scalp tight. She could not see his face, his hands, his cock, the tile past her knees, nothing. Her pulse throbbed under the knot at the back of her head. Her thighs were bare on the cold tile, nothing on her but a shirt and her underwear, and her cunt clenched on nothing, a hot little spasm, and a rush of wet soaked into the cotton before he had touched her there at all.

Eugene held the knot and stared at it. His cock was already thick and aching in his shorts, the head wet, shoving at the fabric, leaking. He had meant to watch her eyes. A face was how he paced himself, eyes to read, a mouth to watch go slack, something to tell him when to stop and when to give more. The cloth took all of it. He told his dick to wait. He would touch her in pieces. He would not fuck her until she had waited long enough. His balls hung heavy and tight and did not listen.

His hand left her hair. Gwen swayed forward and caught herself on her palms. The tile was cool under her hands. Nothing touched her. She strained for his zipper, his step, the shift of his weight. She heard him breathing, low and rough, somewhere in front of her, and she did not know if his cock was an inch from her mouth or a foot away. Her nipples tightened against her shirt. Another slick of wet slid out of her pussy and soaked the crotch of her underwear until the fabric clung.

Eugene watched her mouth hang open, waiting for him, and did not give her his cock. He set two fingers on the side of her neck, sudden, and she jerked. Her pulse slammed under the skin. He dragged those fingers down to her collarbone, felt the heat of her, then took them off. He wanted the gaps. He wanted her cunt dripping before he even got her clothes off. His own cock jerked at the thought and he had to grit his teeth.

The touch vanished. Gwen made a small raw sound and hated how fast it left her. Her skin stayed hot where his fingers had been. She tipped her face toward where she thought he stood and got only air. Then his fist was back in her hair, hauling her upright on her knees, her palms leaving the tile, and before she found her balance both of his hands were on her shirt, yanking it up over her tits and off her arms in one hard pull. Cold air hit her nipples. She did not know his mouth was coming until it closed over her left nipple, hot and wet, tongue flat, sucking hard enough to sting.

Eugene sucked and felt her back arch into his mouth. Her nipple went stiff against his tongue. He bit, just enough to make her gasp, then pulled off and left the wet skin to the air. His cock throbbed so hard it hurt. He looked at her blindfolded face and got nothing back, no eyes, no cue, no brake. He put his mouth on the other nipple, sucked, licked the soft underside of her tit, bit the curve, then stopped again because if he kept his mouth on her he was going to come in his shorts. His hands shook. He hooked them in the band of her underwear, yanked it down to the middle of her thighs, and shoved his hand between her legs instead of giving himself a second to calm down.

Gwen felt the underwear drag down her thighs and stop there, binding them, and then his fingers were straight in the soaked mess of her. Two fingers slid through her slit, found her clit, and rubbed once, rough and exact. Her hips bucked. She grabbed for his wrist and caught only air. He rubbed her clit again, circled it, pressed, then pushed those two fingers into her cunt without warning. She was so wet they went in easy, knuckles deep, and her pussy gripped them. She moaned, loud, and pushed down onto his hand, trying to fuck herself on his fingers before he could take them away.

Eugene felt how soaked she was and his cock leaked a fresh stripe of precum into his shorts. Her cunt was hot and tight, clutching his fingers, fluttering when he curled them. He pumped twice, slow, dragged his fingertips over the swollen spot inside her, and felt her thighs shake against the underwear. He was supposed to edge her until his own need backed off. His fingers were already sliding out instead, his wrist moving without him, and he wiped her wet across her lower belly so she would feel it cooling on her skin. The smell of her cunt hit him. His hands went to his fly. The zipper sounded huge in the quiet. He shoved his shorts down and his cock sprang out, heavy, flushed dark, the head slick and shining, a bead of precum already sliding down the underside.

Gwen heard the zipper and opened her mouth. She did not know where his cock was. She turned her face, lips parted, searching blind. Something hot and blunt bumped her cheek. She chased it. The head smeared precum across her mouth, salty and thick, and she licked it, found the slit with her tongue, and opened wider. His cock pushed past her lips, stretching her jaw, the taste of him flooding her mouth, the shaft heavy on her tongue. She sucked. She wanted him deeper in her throat. She wanted to be used while she could not see a single thing he was about to do.

Eugene watched his cock disappear into her mouth and his balls drew up so fast he almost lost it. Her lips were tight around the shaft. Her tongue worked the underside, greedy, wet. Spit ran down his cock and onto his balls. He could not see her eyes. With the blindfold on all he got was her mouth and the wet sound of it, no face to pace himself against. He grabbed her hair and fucked her throat in three short thrusts, the head nudging deep, her throat clutching him, and then he yanked out because one more second and he was going to shoot down her throat. A string of spit hung from her lip to his cock. He wiped it off with his thumb. His dick twitched in the air, angry, leaking, nowhere near under his control.

Gwen gasped when he left her mouth. Her lips felt swollen and wet. Her jaw ached. Her cunt throbbed, empty, dripping down into the underwear still binding her thighs. She reached out and her palm hit his bare thigh, hot skin, muscle locked tight. She slid her hand up and wrapped her fingers around his cock. He was so hard it barely gave under her grip. The head was slick. She stroked once, base to tip, and he knocked her hand off.

Eugene could not read her and the lack of her eyes was wrecking every limit he had set. He hauled her up by the hips. Her knees left the tile. He turned her, shoved her forward until her hands found the edge of the table, and bent her over it. The underwear was still bunched at mid-thigh, binding her legs, and he left it there. Her ass was bare. Her cunt was right there, swollen, shining, a string of her wet hanging from her slit. He stared at it and his cock jumped. He had meant to make her come on his hand before he ever put his dick in her. His cock pressed up against her ass instead, hot and insistent, and his hands would not obey the plan.

Gwen felt the air on her bare ass and then nothing, and the nothing was worse than any touch. She did not know if he was looking at her cunt or lining his cock up or standing there deciding to make her wait again. Her thighs shook. Wet slid down the inside of one leg, warm, then cooling. She spread her feet as far as the underwear would let her. A palm landed flat on her ass cheek, not his cock, just his hand, hot and still, and she jolted. It lifted. Nothing. Then one finger dragged up through her slit, bottom to clit, and was gone before she could grind down on it. She had no idea where the next thing would land. Then his cockhead nudged her slit, not entering, just sitting there, blunt and burning, and she pushed back. He held her hips and did not let her take him. She whimpered. She was blind and bent and empty and dripping onto her own thighs.

Eugene held the head of his cock at her entrance and tried to count. He would go in slow. He would stop halfway. He would pull out and slap his dick against her clit until he had himself back. He could not see her face. He could not read her eyes, could not watch her mouth, had nothing but the heat of her cunt pressed against the head of his dick and the sound of her breathing, fast and wet. His hips pushed. The head popped inside her. Her pussy sucked at him. The count died.

Gwen’s mouth fell open on a broken sound as his cock stretched her open. Thick. Hot. One long shove until his hips hit her ass and he was buried to the balls. Her pussy gripped every inch, fluttering, dripping around him, the stretch sharp and perfect. She could not see him. She could not brace for the next stroke. That made her clamp down harder. Her fingers dug into the edge of the table. She was stuffed full of his cock and still waiting, blind, for whatever he would do with it.

Eugene stayed buried and shook. Her cunt was sucking at him, soaked, tight, pulsing around his shaft in little grabs he could feel in his balls. He was supposed to hold still, pull out, ration the fuck, keep his cum in his balls until he chose to spend it. He looked down at the blindfold, at the back of her head, and got nothing. His hips snapped. He fucked into her once, hard, and the wet slap of it killed the last of the plan. Again. Again. His balls hit her. He was not rationing anything. He was rutting, short and frantic, already past the point where stopping was a thing his body could do.

Gwen felt him lose the rhythm. The strokes went fast, deep, uncontrolled, his cock driving into her cunt with no plan left in them. Each thrust shoved a grunt out of her. She did not know how many she would get. She pushed back anyway, chasing the thick drag of him against her walls, her clit swollen and untouched and pounding. She was close. He was closer. She could feel it in the way his cock swelled inside her, the way his grip on her hips turned desperate and clumsy, fingers digging in, holding on instead of directing her.

Three more thrusts and Eugene was gone. He folded over her back, chest to her spine, mouth open against her shoulder, and came in hard helpless pulses, pumping cum deep into her cunt while his hips jerked and stuttered and failed. The apology tore out of him against her skin, breathless, frantic, barely a voice. “Sorry. Fuck. Sorry. I can’t. I’m coming. I’m sorry.” He kept saying it into her shoulder while his cock spat the last of it inside her, thick and hot, his chest heaving on her back, his hands clamped on her hips, still gripping as if the grip could change how fast he had lost it.

Gwen felt the hot rush of his cum flood her and his mouth moving on her shoulder, the words wet and broken on her skin. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” His cock twitched inside her, still spurting, still thick, and her cunt clamped down hard around him, and the clench tipped her over. She came. Her pussy locked on his cock in pulses she could not stop, her thighs shaking against the underwear, a sound ripped out of her chest, his cum and his sorry and his weight all on her at once. Then it stopped. All of it. Her body went still under him and stayed there.

Eugene went still with his mouth on her shoulder and his cock softening inside her, cum already leaking out around his shaft and down her thigh. His hands stayed on her hips. The grip had failed. He had not let go. His hips had quit on him and his hands had quit on him and the plan was gone. What was left was his cum in her cunt, his breath on her skin, and neither of them moving. This was not something his dick was done with. This was not something that ended when he pulled out. It sat in his gut, heavy. He knew it. He did not move.

Gwen felt it hit while he was still frozen on her back, no word for it and no need for one. His hands were still on her hips, not gripping anymore, not leaving. His cum was warm inside her and sliding out onto her thigh. The blindfold was still tight. Her cunt still held his softening cock and would not give it back. His breath had gone shallow and silent against her shoulder. His mouth had stopped moving. Nothing on him moved. Nothing on her moved. This was not a fuck that got used up and forgotten. It was permanent. She did not need to see his face to know it.