Thank you for reading my story, I hope that you enjoy it. Love Mica xx, Yorkshire England. Please note that I am a British woman, and I write in British English and vernacular, so for me a fanny is the correct term for female genitalia, a pussy is a pet cat, and the ass is a bum or arse.
I apologise for any typo errors in my story - I edit these myself, and I'm not perfect...
"Only us," Mum called as she opened the front door and walked in. Fortunately both Gil and I were dressed, which I can't say was usually the case.
"How are you feeling Gil," Dad asked as I heard Mum fill the kettle.
"Good thanks, it seems the little scare was just that, a little scare."
I heard Dad and Gil wander off and I assumed that they were sorting out chairs in the garden, Mum I could hear by the sink. Most people do not understand what a blind person sees, assuming I believe, that they think we see nothing. I can't speak for others, but I have a mental image of areas I know.
My house for example, I know where all my furniture is, I have walked past it often enough, I picture it in my head. It may not look to me the same as it looks to a sighted person, but to me, it is a picture. When I am going somewhere new, I build a picture based on what I hear, on what my stick encounters, it isn't detailed, but it is an image in my head.
At home, I can tell when things change, so Mum standing by the sink was in my picture, she wasn't a permanent fixture, but her scent and the sounds that she made as she pottered all filled in my picture. I walked over and hugged her.
"Hi Mum, how are you?" I asked.
"Oh, good sweetheart, a few hot flushes, but, well, I am getting a little bit older sweetheart."
"Oh crikey, did you expect that yet, I mean, you are not that old are you?"
"Oh love, I have been waiting, I can't wait for the end of the monthlies."
Yes, I suppose, once you have had your children and don't want any more, the monthly periods can be a pain, literally, as well as the inconvenience. My jabs at the doctors help me control that, and I am not sure if I will ever have children, that is a hell of an undertaking at the best of times, and blind? Well, it is not a decision I can take alone, and not one I have mentioned to Gil, that is far further in the future than are thinking.
We sat in the garden drinking the tea that Mum made. I don't have a good mental image of the garden, the chairs can be put in a different place every time Dad puts them out, so my map changes every time. Bless him, Dad does try to put them in the same place, but even a few inches out meant bumped shins.
After Mum and Dad had gone we cleared away, I sorted the kitchen and Gil did the garden.
"Now then," he said in his best Yorkshire accent.
"Now then what?" I replied.
"How's about a bit of us time?"
"What ever do you mean sir, do you have designs on my body?"
"I most certainly do, oh yes."
"I see, and how do you intend to go about turning those designs into reality?"
The next thing I knew my knees were being pushed apart and his head was between my thighs, blowing across my knickers.
"Seems to be something in the way," he said.
"Oh well, best stop then."
"Oh, okay."
"Don't you dare," I laughed.
I felt his fingers at my waistband and as I lifted my bum he slid my knickers down, my fanny momentarily feeling cool as the fresh air hit it, and then it warmed up quickly as his tongue ran along my crease, sliding my labia out of the way, a wonderful tickle feeling coupled with the roughness of his tongue set my pleasures racing.
As his tongue worked my clitoris my pleasures ramped up and as his fingers gently pushed inside me, my pressures grew and grew. His fingers turned and rotated inside me, they widened, they narrowed, my fanny stretched and then squeezed him as his tongue dabbed at my clitoris, and released, and pushed hard and then gently. He pulled back, his fingers slowly left me, and he whispered to me.
"Let's go upstairs."
"Yes, yes, oh yes, but pass me my knickers first, I don't want to leave them on the floor for my Mum or worse, my Dad to find."
The days went on, the weeks added up and we were happy, I was blissfully happy, I did not know that I could ever be this happy, life was wonderful. We would do nothing some days, other days we would walk in the dales and I would point at a sound and Gil would describe what I was pointing at, my pictures of the world were being filled in. Mum and Dad came around less often, they could see that I was happy.
We got back from another walk, I used the loo and then we sat and discussed tea. I wanted fish and chips, Gil fancied a Chinese. As is the way of life, Gil went out to get fish and chips, I smiled, he is such a love. I got the plates out ready and the knife and forks and the salt and vinegar and waited, and waited, and waited.
After over an hour of waiting I rang Dad.
"I am not sure what to do Dad, Gil went to get fish and chips about an hour and a half ago, and he hasn't come back and his phone isn't answering."
"Okay sweetheart," Dad said, "I'll nip out and have a look, see if they remember him at the chippie."
I put the phone down and sat in the lounge, I didn't know what else to do, I could only wait. After what seemed an eternity my front door knocked. I got up and went to answer the door.
"Excuse me miss," a female voice said, "does Gilbert Drummond live here?"
"I am sorry, who is asking?"
"Miss, I am PC Simmonds."
"Oh. I am blind, I am sorry, if you are wearing a uniform, then I wouldn't know."
"Is there somewhere we can go and sit miss?"
"Why? What is this about, where is Gil?" I was getting very scared, I did not want strange people in my house, I wanted Gil.
"Miss, I need to talk with you, can we go and sit somewhere please."
"Hello love," just then Dad's voice cut in. "Come on sweetheart, let's go inside." I then heard Dad say, "I am Florence's father, let's go inside."
"What is happening Dad, what is going on?" I was now very scared, my legs did not want to move, I felt rooted to the spot, I knew, in my heart of hearts that my world was about to end. I felt a hand on my arm, it was Dad, I could tell his aroma, and he led me into my sitting room and he sat me in my armchair, not my usual sofa.
"Come in," Dad said, I presumed to the police woman.
I heard feet moving and then I heard the squeak as someone sat on my sofa. Dad was holding my hand and squeezing me. I don't think I had ever been so scared in my life.
"Miss," the police woman said, "there has been an accident."
"What hospital, take me to the hospital Dad, please, now." I said, my voice hurried and high pitched, tears were streaming from my eyes, I needed to be by Gil's side, to help him get better.
"Miss, I am afraid to tell you that Mr Drummond is deceased. I am so sorry."
I wailed, I screamed, I cried, I hit out at Dad, I threw my stick, my world had ended.
"Get out, get out," I screamed, my Dad holding my hand and my shoulder, not letting me go.
The policewoman was saying something to Dad, I wasn't listening, I was sobbing, I was crying, I wanted Gil.
"Sweetheart," Mum's voice appeared from nowhere, "I came over by taxi," and then she was hugging me, and I was wailing some more and I heard Dad in the distance shutting the front door and coming back into the room and at that point I just lost it and everything went dark.
It seemed that Gil's heart had stopped, his car had crashed into a wall, but he was dead before the crash. No one else was involved, it could have happened anytime the doctors said. The funeral was dark, the skies heavy with rain Dad said, my heart was empty, the funeral home was full of people, I didn't care, my love was gone.
I sat at home. I didn't do anything, I didn't go anywhere, the eyes on the world that Gil had gifted me had gone dark, I had no interest in anything. I ate if Mum or Dad came over and prepared something, if they didn't, I didn't bother. Frankly, my life was over.
It was four months after Gil died. I was sitting in the lounge, simply wearing a robe, I didn't really get dressed these days, when I heard the front door open. I could tell from the footfall that it was Dad.
"Right then," Dad said, "go and get dressed, get a frock on, I am taking you out to lunch."
"No Dad," I wasn't interested.
"Girl, you go and get dressed or I will dress you like I did when you were three years old. You are coming out with me and unless you want the world to see your fanny and your boobs then you will go and get dressed. Your robe is undone by the way."
So, Dad was seeing my bits. So what. I didn't care. I didn't care who saw me naked, Gil couldn't see me and that is what mattered. I felt my arm being pulled and I got to my feet. I trudged away and walked upstairs to my room. I took my robe off and put it on the hook on my door, I had enough sense to put it where it should be, where I would find it when I needed it.
I opened my knickers draw and took out the first pair I found and pulled them up. I then took a dress, at random, I had no idea what colour it was, I just put it on and did up the zip. I didn't bother with a bra, I have virtually no bust, although Gil loved it, and a bra was an optional extra that I didn't need. I walked slowly downstairs, back to Dad.
"Right then my girl, are you ready?"
I nodded, I wasn't really in the mood for talking. Dad took my hand, put my stick in my other hand and led me through my door to his car. As I sat in and did my seat belt up Dad went back and locked my house.
"Right," he said as he sat in the car. "We are going for a fish and chips lunch at Murgatroyd's."
"That's what killed Gil, going for my fish and chips. I'd rather not."
"No, that isn't what killed him, a faulty heart is what did for him, fish and chips has always been your favourite food and that is where I am taking you. Now you can sit in silence, or you can moan the whole way or you can talk, I don't mind, but we are going to Murgatroyd's."
I sat silent, my head facing forwards, I couldn't see bends or obstructions, but I could keep a good sense of where we were going, except on fast roads like motorways where I couldn't really detect the bends. Dad was also a good driver; I rarely ever felt a sudden jolt or braking. I guess that he read the road ahead so I don't have to.
