Life seemed a bit tame, back at work in the same familiar surroundings, doing the same things as normal. However, Himari and I had plenty to talk about, as did Lindsey when she popped in round about first coffee time. The no-audio office security tapes would have shown three women with their mouths moving a bit more than usual, and stopping to laugh a lot more than usual. However, the work got done and, finally, it was time to go home, after a Friday afternoon that was considerably better than the previous one.

A quick whip around with the hoover and I was ready for tonight's meeting. The 'stay-at-homers' and the 'exhibitionists' all arrived on time, and all eager to tell the other lot what they'd been up to nearly all week. Lindsey and Himari relayed the highlights from our week at the 'National Cake And Biscuit Fayre', including the grisly details of the crèpe suzette stand, the delights of the Thornton's Chocolate and Mr Kiplings stands, meeting Lexxxi and seeing me show off my buttocks and clitoris in the little black dress, oversize bra and no knickers. The 'stay-at-homers' all cheered at this idea and asked me when the next floor-show would be. I said I couldn't afford a little black velveteen dress from Shein and suggested passing around my hat for contributions, but suddenly they wanted to hear about Lexxxi instead.

So we told them about Lexxxi. Eyebrows were raised in copious quantities. And the 'stay-at-homers' alternately oohed, aahed and sucked in their lower lips dubiously when we told them about our discovery of fisting. Their lower lips filled out again when they heard about our experiences, visibly tightening their legs in deliciously vicarious agony as the story reached its climax. And then they went all 'kitten-with-big-wide-eyes' when we admitted that Lindsey had been too tired to go to her own room so we all slept together, in the same bed, all night every night.

It seemed that the general consensus was that fisting was an interesting idea, that consorting with a prostitute was an idea with potential drawbacks, and that going away for a night or two and all sleeping together after a whole evening of sex and fun together was a good idea. Someone wanted to do it at the Thornton's chocolate factory samples department, but it turned out that's in Derbyshire somewhere, so perhaps not within our reach. Anyway, we divided ourselves up, and Charity seemed to want to come with me. The only one who did, what have I done? So I guided her to my bedroom.

“I can see a bit better today, unless you've got stronger lighting here at the moment,” Charity said, as I closed the bedroom door behind us.

“The sunshine is coming in through the bedroom window. That might be it,” I guessed.

She stared around her and pointed at the bed.

“I can see the bed, or at least the general shape of it!” she said, excitedly. “I feel better when I can see better. And when my sight fades again, I feel normal again. I think my cataracts get thinner on some days, perhaps today is the day. Can you see what they look like?”

“Really?” I asked, surprised. “I should have thought that if your sight fades it would make you depressed or something!”

“Oh no,” she laughed. “Oh, no! My eyes are useless for anything else, I might as well enjoy them!”

She lay down on the bed, now she knew where it was, with her clothes still on. I knelt down by her head and she turned her face and her milky-white eyes towards me. Maybe it was my imagination, or maybe it was true. Her eyes did seem a little less milky than when I'd seen them before. A long way off crystal clear, of course, but the natural blue of her irises seemed a little stronger, lying underneath the large blob of cataract in each eye. I stared into her eyes and my hand began to stroke her breasts which were still under her top and bra. She managed to stop her eyes from sliding sideways all the time, and for a long moment, our eyes met and held each other's gaze.

We went on observing each other at close quarters while my hand lightly skeetered over her bust.

“What do my eyes look like?” she asked. “They told me once, but my eyes have got a lot worse since then and nowadays no one wants to talk about it.”

“I don't mind talking about it, Charity,” I assured her. “So long as you want to.”

“Yes, I do,” she replied. “My blindness is something that crops up every minute of every day, almost, so of course, it's big in my life, and I need to talk about it sometimes.”

My fingers gripped her bra at the front point of the band between the cups. I slowly moved it left and right, and up and down, just as if it was my bra and I needed to wriggle my boobs into place without anyone noticing.

“OK, normal eyes have a round iris which is coloured blue, green or brown, with tiny little streaks of darker colour generally pointing towards the centre of the eye. Yours don't do this, your eyes are very pale blue in a larger area than just the iris, although the pale blue area isn't round, it's - well, it doesn't have a shape, it's like a map of an island. And it's all exactly the same colour. Both your eyes have differently shaped cataract areas.”

My own eyes flicked between hers, my face only inches away from hers. My hands moved her bra up, down and sideways by holding onto the band and pointedly not touching her cups or the breasts underneath.

“Also, your eyes are usually always moving sideways and back again.”

“Oh, yes, they do that. I can stop them if I remember, but as soon as I forget they start moving again.”

I slowly gripped the tops of her bra cups and manipulated them in different directions at a very slow pace without touching her breasts. Whichever way I moved her bra, her breasts followed as best they could. Her nipples seemed to enjoy that feeling so I went on doing it.

“Your eyes look as though they've been painted onto your eyeballs, but the paint has run a little because it was too wet.”

Charity laughed.

“I've never had anyone say that about them!”

“And I've never stared so deeply into a blind person's eyes before now!”

She stared in my general direction.

“Can you open your legs for me a little bit?”

She did that. I folded her skirt up over her tummy, exposing her knickers - a nice pair of black ones with plenty of lace and silk. Well, polyester, then, if you're going to be pedantic. I then started to caress her pubic area and thighs very lightly. I trailed my fingers over her skin and knickers in a deliciously slow circular path, barely touching her but definitely doing so. My fingers traced slow circles on her legs, lower stomach, and knickers so that she was hardly able to figure out where they were. They made forays out from between her legs, then slowly circled their way back in again. Charity started 'mmm'-ing when she felt me centering back.

“This might take a while, just enjoy it for the long haul!”

“OK.”

She involuntarily opened her legs a bit wider as my fingers came in again for the fifth time. They plucked at the waistband of her knickers, hardly enough to disturb it. They skated slowly down to the underneath of them where the gusset is, and very slowly slipped up the centre line, directly over her lips and up to where her clitoris was hiding.

I had an idea. Some time ago, Dave had given me the stupidest present ever. It was a make-up set, even though he knew very well I didn't ever use make-up. But now I'd just thought of a use for it, or part of it. I kept my fingers going on Charity with one hand, and with the other, I opened the bottom drawer behind me where I'd put it when he'd given it to me and where I'd left it for several months, if not years.

Inside was a brush for applying powder. It was a plastic handle about two inches long with, at one end, a brush-head with very soft hairs. Not like a paint-brush you paint a door or wall with; the brush-head was almost spherical. Globular would be a better word, like what you see on CSI programs when they are dusting for fingerprints. I fetched it out and began to brush around her instead of using my fingers. I brushed her thighs, tummy and hips, slowly and very delicately brushing, occasionally twirling the brush clockwise and anticlockwise. After a few minutes, I put the brush down and continued with my fingers, ever so slowly. And then I picked up the brush again and teased Charity all around her vagina with the bristles. I'm sure Dave would be apoplectic if he knew what I was doing with his stupid present.

The sun had gone down too far to shine in the window and the room was gathering gloom.

“What can you see now, Charity?” I asked.

“All the brightness has gone. Everything is grey and shapeless, although I can still see your shape and a few things in my peripheral vision. The usual black shadows are in front of me wherever I look. This is normally when I begin to feel sexed up, and what you're doing - mmmm - is heavenly!”

“Do you get tired of people asking you to count their fingers?”

“It's been a long time since I could do that. I can't even count the - mmmmm - people.”

Her voice tailed off, too full of powerful feelings between her legs to concentrate on talking much.

“Don't stop!” she managed, between gasps.

I slipped the bottom of her knickers to one side of her lips and brushed unhurriedly all around her now-exposed pussy. The room gradually darkened.

“I can't see anything much at all, now” she volunteered. “Do my cataracts still look the same?”

I stared at them while she held her gaze like before, except her gaze was a little off centre and didn't move when I moved my head. The pale areas in her eyes seemed paler and more clouded, though perhaps it was just the lessening light in my bedroom.

“No, I'd say the white areas are more white than they were just now.”

“Yes, I thought so, too,” she smiled. “Yes, I'm enjoying what you are doing more now, that's for sure. I like it when you look at my eyes.”

I went on brushing and using my fingers alternately. She arched herself up towards me almost imperceptibly to start with, gradually increasing as I went on lightly brushing her lips and thighs with my present from Dave. My other hand was still slowly caressing her top and bra. I could see she was coming to the boil, gradually and delightfully.

I could feel her coming. She arched her bottom up a few inches a couple of times and her fingers clutched at the sheet. And her nipples fairly burst out of her bra and through her top as she panted for breath.

I stopped to watch, the brush poised delicately on her mound only half a millimetre from her lips. The weight of it on her skin was not enough for her to feel, but just enough for her to know it was there.

There was a long silence, filled with feeling. Eventually, she surfaced.

“Ohhh,” she breathed. “That was ...”

There was another silence, filled with her unspoken narrative.

I knew what she meant, even though she didn't have the words for it. I'd come too. The gentlest orgasm I've ever had, but nonetheless delicious.

We heard a burst of laughter from one of the other rooms. Then we heard the noise of three or four people coming out into the corridor, still laughing. The mood was now broken, so Charity and I got up, and I guided her to the door and out into the corridor to see what was happening.

“What?” began Charity, squinting at the others.

“It seems that one of Jennifer's wheels has come off, and Himari and Lindsey have fallen out of the wheelchair whilst, um, in the middle of something, while Jennifer, Mandy and Nicole were in a clinch, but now everyone is laughing.”

Charity blinked a few times, but still saw only a dark foggy cloud everywhere she looked.

I watched Jennifer drag herself out of the spare bedroom, giggling like a teenager and holding the other wheel in one hand with her naked legs trailing after her like seaweed behind a mermaid. The story was retold around the kitchen table while we had our teas and coffees, and when Rover, the cat, had summoned up the courage to take her usual place by the Aga.

“I slid out of my wheelchair and invited Mandy to try it.”

“And I didn't really want to, to begin with, until Lindsey sat in it and pulled me onto her lap. I wheeled us around the room while Lindsey was squeezing my boob one side, and Nicole playing with the other one with one hand and my pussy with the other. Wherever we went in the wheelchair, they were squeezing me and rubbing me, very nicely too, I might say.”

“I couldn't keep up with them, I had to drag myself out of the way a couple of times. And Himari was lying on the floor next to me and helping me to an early orgasm ...”

“Or several!” Himari butted in, before giggling again.

The story-telling continued across the coffee cups with several people talking excitedly at once.

“And playing with my legs.”

“They're so soft and helpless, I love them.”

“I've never been in a wheelchair before, but it was quite fun.”

“So do I, they're my legs after all.”

“Sorry, was that insensitive of me to say that?”

“Especially what's at the top.”

“Then Nicole sat on top of me, and Lindsey couldn't breathe.”

“Not at all, dear, I have fun in my wheelchair too.”

“And your floppy toes.”

“Hey, I'm not that fat!”

“Then we all fell over because the wheelchair tipped to one side.”

“And we're all on the floor feeling each other up and Jennifer took the one of the wheels off to show us how to do it.”

“You're not, you're not!”

“And I took the other one off and made Jennifer go and fetch it.”

“And I couldn't reach it because it was on the top of a cupboard and I can't even stand up.”

“So two of us helped her to stand upright so she could reach it.”

“And I suckled Jennifer's pussy while she was reaching for the wheel.”

“And I came again.”

There were various other mumbles along the lines of 'so did I'. Rover, the cat, took it all in, then stalked out through the cat flap, tail arched high and straight.

Straighter than the rest of us, anyway.