We had talked at length about it, this was Connor's night. The blindness was not a wanted ailment. Simply a way to help with his other desire. The lack of feeling in his lower body.
I was lying next to him, and did not make a move, but I said
- I am touching your thigh... Can you feel me ?
- No...he sighed. Which hand are you using ?
- The weak one, my fingers are curled and I'm caressing you with the back. I'm higher now, almost between your legs.
- Am I hard ? he panted.
- Very much.
- Touch it.
I moved slightly as if I was changing my hand's place, but still wasn't touching him.
- It's in my hand now, I can try and press a bit.
- Your weak hand ?
- Yes...
- Move it, slowly, he breathed heavily.
So I did. Describing the move, the way my limp fingers were clumsily rubbing against his penis and he came within a minute, with a deep moan I'd never heard before.
Once he came back to some semblance of calm, he sighed.
- I want to see and not feel now... I want to see you do me things that I will not feel.
- Maybe some day, I murmured. My turn now... but I don't want to break your fantasy. If I unstrap your weak arm, will you caress my breast with it.
- Depends, he smiled, will you close your eyes and imagine that I'm Emma.
I laughed and started removing the soft straps on his shoulder.
*
The next two days were spent at the jazz festival. It felt very odd, coming out as a disabled couple, not matter how "non-permanent" our alibi was this time. I spent most of the time in my wheelchair, assisted by Abbie, and Adam and Connor really seemed to have a blast, cracking jokes at Connor's state. It was generally a light and delightful and sometimes, I would get my chair next to Connor's and tell him my hand was on his knee. He would put his hand down to check and smile sweetly.
I came back, still not very fond of experimental Jazz but quite impatient to get a second trip in this hotel. And a third maybe. We had plans.
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