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Summary of this Story:
Megan shares her picnic date with Sarah during a therapy session with Dr. Wilson, describing braille labels she made for lunch and Sarah’s story of adapting to blindness without wallowing in self-pity. This mirrors Megan’s own struggles with loneliness and past predatory behavior. On their dinner date at Angelo’s, Sarah pays and explores Megan’s body by touch, leading to a heated kiss where Sarah guides Megan’s hand to her breast. Megan gifts Sarah a 3D nude model of herself, and they plan Christmas with Sarah’s family as Megan works toward genuine connection.
Why this story will hook you:
Dude, the way Sarah’s fingers trace that 3D nude model of Megan, lingering on the nipples right there by the car, had me holding my breath. And when Megan chokes up in Dr. Wilson’s office realizing she’s been wallowing just like she feared, you feel her raw push to ditch the predator vibes for real care—it’s this tense mix of turning on and turning around that sticks with you.
Check out your Story: Megan’s Slow Yield to Sarah’s Tender Caress
Megan wrestles with excitement and restraint after her park picnic with Sarah, recounting it all to Dr. Wilson. Sarah’s gentle touch on Megan’s face sparks arousal, especially at the ears, but Megan holds back. They share honest talks about desires and pasts, leading to a gift of a face model. At Angelo’s Italian restaurant, Sarah takes charge, feeling Megan’s dress, breasts, and legs, then pulls her into a deep kiss, placing Megan’s hand on her chest. Megan fights old impulses, focusing on building something real ahead of Christmas with Sarah’s family.
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My head spins all the next week. I keep pulling out my phone, wanting to call Sarah, but I don’t want to seem too eager. I’m dying to talk to someone about my new friend, but realizing I don’t have any real friends lets the loneliness creep back in. Finally, Friday morning rolls around. The frosted glass on Dr. Wilson’s office doors greets me with its classic charm again, dialing back my excitement with a touch of calm.
“Oh, Dr. Wilson, I’m so excited!”
“Well, do tell.”
“I had a date with Sarah.”
“What did you do?”
“We had a picnic in the park.”
“Sounds nice.”
I tell her about our lunch, mentioning the braille labels I made.
“How did you make the labels?”
“I bought a label maker the day before.”
“That’s real thoughtful of you. It’s a small way to help her out while letting her keep her independence. I get the feeling she values that.”
“Yeah, she’s proud of being able to do almost anything on her own.”
“After lunch, what happened?”
“We lay down on the blanket and soaked up the summer breeze. And we talked.”
“What about?”
“I asked her about her blindness. I was blown away by how she described adapting to her vision fading over time. She just shrugged and said the alternative was wallowing in self-pity—I remember her using that word.”
Opening Up in Therapy
I choke up as my own anxieties bubble up. Dr. Wilson says, “Did that hit home?”
“Hard.”
“Why?”
“Well, you know.”
“Maybe, but spell it out for me.”
“Wallowing is all I’ve been doing lately. I’ve tried burying it with sex, but I crashed hard that awful night I told you about. Anyway, she asked about my reaction. I gave her the short version of my life story, including how messed up I am right now.”
“How much detail on your recent stuff?”
“I admitted luring women into bed.”
“How’d she take it?”
“She didn’t flinch. In fact, she hit me with a question straight out of your playbook.”
“Oh?”
“She asked what I really want.”
“And you said…?”
“I had to think about it, but I told her I want love. She was so sweet about it. She took my hand and said she’d be my friend.”
“She sounds like a keeper.”
“Oh, she is, Dr. Wilson. I’ve never felt like this about anyone.”
“Then what?”
“Oh, right. I let her touch my face so she could ‘see’ me. Her touch was so soft and gentle. I could picture her building an image of my face in her mind.”
I pause and hang my head. Dr. Wilson waits a beat, then says, “What’re you thinking?”
“Um, yeah, I need to be straight with you.”
“Uh-huh, that’s how this works.”
“It turned me on, especially when she touched my ears. That’s a hot spot for me. She asked why I gasped. I figured I could be honest, so I told her her touch was exciting me.”
“What’d she say?”
“She just giggled and said sorry. She gets so much without even seeing. After she was done, I gave her the gift.”
“Gift?”
“The face model I made for her.”
“Oh, yeah, you mentioned that. Did she like it?”
“She loved it. She ran her fingers over it for a bit, then set it down, and we lay back again.”
“Did you talk more?”
“After a while, she surprised me.”
“Go on.”
“She told me she’s never been with anyone, but she’s wondered about it. She admitted touching herself and said it’d be nice to be touched by someone else. Then she asked if I thought she was attractive.”
“Really? Did you say anything to lead her there?”
“Nope, it was all her.”
“So how’d you handle that?”
“What do you think? I was lit up. I’d been trying not to think of her that way, and boom.”
“What’d you say?”
“My heart was racing, but I stayed cool. I told her she was real attractive. Then she slayed me by asking if her breasts were too small. I bit my tongue and said they were perfect.”
I pause. “Then she said she’s never been kissed and asked me to kiss her.”
“Did you?”
“Oh, Dr. Wilson, I couldn’t help it. I tried to keep it soft and sweet, but she pressed into me and got a little wild. My hand got close to her breast, and I panicked and pulled back. I was good.”
“I’m proud of you. How’d she take it?”
“She asked if I didn’t like her kiss. I said I had stuff to work through. She got it.”
“She does sound sharp.”
“Super sharp. Oh, Dr. Wilson, she’s incredible. Could she be the one?”
“It’s possible. Keep it slow for now. Your main goal right now is ditching that predator side and turning into someone who really tunes into others’ feelings so you can care for them for real. Only then can you have a healthy relationship. Love comes after. You up for that?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“What’s next with her?”
“No plans yet. I was thinking dinner tomorrow night.”
“That sounds nice.”
A Fresh Start
Her phone dings. “That’s it for this week. See you Tuesday. Oh, heads up—I’ll be off for the holidays after that till, let’s see, Tuesday the 13th of January. I think you’re doing well enough for a break, right?”
“Yeah, I do. Thanks, Dr. Wilson. Bye.”
“Bye.”
The rest of the day at home, Dr. Wilson’s words bounce around in my head. How’d I turn into a predator? I never meant to hurt anyone, but now I see I have. How do I stop and start caring instead? That night, I call Sarah.
“Hey, Megan. I was just thinking about you, feeling your face.”
“Aw, sweet. Hey, how about dinner tomorrow night? You free?”
“Oh, Megan, that sounds great. Yes, but only if I pay. I insist—you’ve done plenty for me already.”
“Okay, deal. Got a favorite spot?”
“Yeah, Angelo’s. I love Italian. You know it?”
“Yeah, been a few times. What time should I book?”
“Can we go early? Like 6:30?”
“No problem. I’ll set it up.”
“Oh, I’m pumped. Can’t wait.”
“Me neither. Pick you up at 6:15?”
“Perfect.”
“I’ll be thinking about you till then.”
“Me too. Bye.”
“Bye.”
I fuss around the house, straightening up. If she stays over—when she stays over—I want it spotless. I scrub the guest bathroom till it shines. I’ll swap the sheets on my bed once I know she’s crashing here. I hop on my laptop and search how to prep a house for a blind person. One tip is clear paths between furniture so they don’t bang into stuff. I shift some pieces, then wander around blindfolded to test it, imagining her point of view. I smack my shin once and yell from the pain, so I move that table to the other wall. Once the house is all set for her, I sit and dream of holding her close.
**Killing Time**
**Saturday, December 20**
I’m sitting in my studio when Sarah walks in naked.
“Ready to photograph me for your 3D model?” she asks.
The camera track magically reconfigures around the bed. She lies down, seducing me with her sultry gaze. My body quivers. Wow, what a hell of a dream to wake up from. I reach down, and my pussy’s soaked, so I get myself off before hitting the bathroom for a shower.
Morning drags on. Hours till our date. How to kill the time? I grab breakfast, then head to the studio. The track camera’s still rigged from my face scan, and a naughty idea hits. I set it up for a full-body nude shot. I strip, lie on the bed on my side with my top leg draped over for a hint of modesty. I snap a bunch of 360-degree shots, smiling in some, pouting seductive in others. I feed the best one to the printer and hit start. Minutes later, I pull out the mini model of myself and check it out. Looks just like me. Duh, Megan, who else? I set it to cool by the open window. Staring at it, Dr. Wilson’s warning about keeping things platonic with Sarah pops up. Am I slipping back into huntress mode? Maybe I shouldn’t have done this.
Still hours to burn. I check my closet and try on outfits. Nothing too sexy for her, but I wanna look good. I settle on a modest dress with a shallow V-neck I haven’t worn in forever. Less intimidating for Sarah. Silly— she can’t see it anyway. Still happy with it. I pick new pantyhose, silky panties, and a bra. Hang the dress, lay the rest on a chair.
Stomach growls for lunch, so I eat. I pace my apartment. I’m losing it. Need to walk it off. Grab a hat, sunscreen, and drive to the park. I wander for a couple hours, chilling in the shade of the oaks as cardinals chirp around me. Back home by five. Shower again, dry off, lie naked on the bed cooling down while fantasizing about Sarah. Get up, dress, check myself in the mirror after each piece. Grab a big purse, toss in essentials, snag the nude model from the studio. Too much too soon? I’ll hold off till she shows she’s ready.
**Dinner Date**
**Saturday, December 20**
At 6:15, I brush my hair and check my look one last time. I spritz on Jasmine perfume—it’s soothing. Glance at my bottle of Seduction. Need that anymore, Megan? Nah. I grab it and chuck it in the trash. Look at Sarah’s photo again, take a few deep breaths, then drive the short hop to her place.
She’s waiting by the curb like always. I honk, she smiles and climbs in. She’s rocking a dark green satin dress that hugs her slim frame.
“You’re beautiful, Sarah.”
“Aw, thanks. Bet you are too. What’ve you been up to?”
“Oh, this and that.”
“Thinking of me?” she teases.
“You know it.”
“I think of you all the time when I’m not slammed at work.”
I pull into the Olive Garden lot and snag a spot near the door. I help her out, and we head in. Ducking under the glowing gilt Angelo’s sign takes us to old-school Italy. Plush burgundy carpets and drapes pull us into an elegant escape from the busy American city.
“Good evening, Sarah. Great to see you again. You look stunning tonight.”
“Thanks, Tony,” she says with a smile.
“And who’s this gorgeous woman you brought?”
“This is my new friend, Megan.”
“Charmed, Megan. You know you’re lucky to be with the amazing Sarah, right?”
“I sure do, Tony.”
“Well, good. You’ll be regulars now?”
“Count on it,” I say with a big grin.
“I’ll seat you at your usual table in the back, Sarah. Mom coming?”
“Nah, just us.”
He winks at me. We sit, and he hands me a menu.
“Your usual, Sarah?”
“Probably. You know I love your lasagna. But I might check the menu for something new.”
Tony says, “Then I’ll grab you one too.” He glides to the host stand, comes back, and nudges her hand with it. “Here ya go. And your favorite sparkling water.”
“Thanks.”
She opens it, phone ready to scan. “Oh, Tony, braille menus now? That’s awesome.”
“Yeah, owner’s pushing inclusivity.”
“Need a minute,” she says.
“Take your time, ladies.”
He heads off. “Tony knows you well,” I say.
“Yeah, family’s been coming forever—can’t even remember when we started.”
“Means it’s good.”
I scan the menu, go with cannelloni. “Wine?”
“I don’t usually, but this feels special, so yeah.”
“Red or white?”
“Red that’s not too heavy?”
“Pinot Noir’s light and smooth. Cool?”
“Haven’t tried it, but sure.”
Tony’s back quick. “Ready, ladies?”
Sarah says, “Gonna be bold—veal piccata tonight.”
“One of my faves. You’ll love it, hon.”
“Cannelloni for me. And two glasses of Beringer Pinot Noir.”
“Great pick. Bread or apps?”
She shakes her head. “Nah, that’s it. Thanks,” I say.
“My pleasure.”
He goes. “What’s the occasion?” I ask.
“Date with you, obviously. But I got promoted today—shift supervisor now.”
“Congrats. You earned it.”
“Mind if I ask what you’re wearing?”
“Go for it.”
I describe the dress and the fire opal pendant I added last second.
“Sounds pretty.”
“I’d let you ‘see,’ but hands on me here? People’d stare.”
“Ha, true.”
“Later, maybe.”
She smiles. Tony brings the wine. I grab my glass; she finds hers.
“Cheers,” I say, clinking.
“Cheers.”
She sips. “Oh, this is great. Fruity, smooth, no bite.”
“Figured you’d dig it.”
We talk. She dishes on her job, the crazy customer attitudes. I share my dream of fashion photography, maybe for a high-end mag like Vogue. Food arrives; I cut my cannelloni to cool.
“Oh man, smells incredible!”
Cooled, I take a bite and moan. “Mmmmmm.” After swallowing, “No wonder you love it. Your veal good?”
“Delish. I always get the lasagna. You inspired me to branch out.”
“Glad I could help.”
“You’re good at a lot, I’m sure.”
Dessert and coffee, we smile holding hands. Tony swings by. “More for you?”
“Just the check, Tony, thanks. I’m paying,” Sarah says.
“Sure thing.”
She pulls her phone as he brings it. Feels for the bill; phone scans it. “Looks good.” He taps the reader, nudges her hand. It announces the total.
“Cool,” she says. Taps her card.
“Enter PIN,” it says. She does; “Approved. Thanks for dining at Angelo’s.”
“Thanks, Tony. Love the new reader—super thoughtful. I’ll shout you out to Blind Ambitions and drop a five-star review.”
“We’d appreciate it. Receipt?”
“Nope.”
“Have a great night, ladies. Come back soon.”
He leaves. I say, “You’re incredible. I’d barely know you’re blind.”
“Quit with the ‘A’ word. I just found my way.”
“Sorry, Sarah, can’t help it. I’d be sunk without my sight.”
“You’d figure it out, Megan—you’re smart.”
“Yeah, maybe. Ready?”
“Yep.”
“Home time.”
She smiles as I guide her to the car. I open her door, but she stops. “Can I see what you’re wearing now?”
“Sure.”
Her fingers trace my smiling face, down my neck, shoulders. Toward my breasts: “Silky.” Feels the V-neck skin, sizes my breasts. “Oh, small like mine. I pictured you with big ones.”
“Nope, this is it.”
She grins. “Perfect.”
I shiver as she lingers. Down my body: “Nice and trim, slim hips. Hope to see more soon.”
She slides in. Driving home, she strokes my leg. “Slim and strong. You work out.”
“A little, yeah.”
Her fingers glide over my pantyhose. I gasp. “Easy—don’t wanna wreck us.”
She giggles, pulls back. Damn, she’s making moves. At her place, seatbelt off, she asks, “Wanna do Christmas with my family?”
Tears sting, thinking of my last happy Christmas. Ever had one? “Love to.”
“Awesome, I’ll tell Mom. Great night, Megan. Kiss me?”
She leans in; I cup her neck, meet her soft. She presses hard, tongue sliding in. Grabs my hand to her breast. I moan, caressing. She moans back. A full minute before she breaks.
“I wanna learn everything from you.”
“Oh, Sarah, yes—I’d love teaching you. You sure?”
“Never been surer.”
“Then I will. Soon.”
“Promise?”
“Promise. Oh, wait—surprise for you.”
Her boldness says go. “You spoil me.”
“Love doing nice things for you.”
I dig the mini nude model from my purse, hand it over. “What’s this?” She explores. “Oh my God, you?”
“Yep.”
Her fingers trace the smooth plastic curves. I watch her hit my hot spots; it fires me up like it’s me. Her smile turns grin. “Wow, Megan. I feel your nipples. This’ll get me wet tonight.”
“Hope so.”
Holy hell, she’s turning herself on—with my help. She blows a kiss, heads to her door easy. My heart races with excitement, but it’s real affection swelling now.
**Therapy Session 4**
**Tuesday, December 23**
“How’d the date go?” Dr. Wilson asks.
“Oh, it was magical.”
“Magical! Spill.”
“We hit an Italian spot that knows Sarah well, so she was right at home. We really connected over dinner.”
“Nice. After?”
“By the car, she wanted to ‘see’ my body—touching, obviously. Not sexual, but she checked my breasts. On the drive, she teased my legs.”
“What’d you do?”
“Told her we’d crash if she didn’t quit. At her place, we kissed. She heated up, put my hand on her breast. Had to touch, but Dr. Wilson, she led that night. Even said she wants to learn from me.”
“I see.”
“I was good—not old Megan. Trust me. She’s ready for more—can we?”
“Hmm. Weeks ago you were the huntress. Prove you’ve changed.”
I pause, gathering my thoughts. “When I first met her, sure I saw she was cute, but I was mostly worried she was late and wanted to help. Wasn’t till I watched her head into work that other thoughts hit.”
Dr. Wilson leans back, tapping her pen. “Keep going, Megan. Tell me more about that first day.”
As I dove deeper into recounting that initial encounter, Dr. Wilson’s steady gaze pulled out details I’d glossed over before—my knee-jerk instinct to fix things for Sarah, not exploit her vulnerability. It crystallized how far I’d come: from seeing people as prey to cherishing one woman’s quiet strength. We wrapped with her nod of approval, a real step toward the sensitivity she demanded. For the first time, hope felt solid, not fleeting. Sarah wasn’t just a spark; she was reshaping me into someone worthy of the love I’d chased so wrongly before. Christmas with her family loomed like a warm promise, the start of something genuine.
