Corky and Billie Ch. 01

Literotic asexstories – Corky and Billie Ch. 01 by corcyra,corcyra
Chapter 1: Setting The Stage For Action

It was nearly 11:00 PM. Corky had just turned in for the night when Harry, his college roommate, returned to their room and prepared to do the same. This was their usual time to share news, rumors, and other trivial concerns of the day.

“You already asleep over there?” Harry asked from his end of the room.

“No, not yet. Just turned in a couple minutes ago” Corky replied.

“You have a good day today??”

“Hell no. Did you?”

“Oh, not bad, not bad at all. What’s up with you?”

“Oh, I guess it’s no big deal, but it bothers me just the same. I called Joyce again tonight and she said no again, that’s the third time, and the last time, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Good. Forget her. Lots of other fish and all that good stuff. Hell, you only saw her once, right? At that stupid freshman mixer thing with the nurses a month or so ago?”

“Yeah, it was a blind date. How ironic. I guess she didn’t bargain for ending up with a blind guy for a blind date. I guess you could say she got ‘blindsided’.”

Harry groaned. “Well, tough titty, I say to her. You can date my sister any time you want. Just tell her I said it’s okay.”

“Oh, go date your own sister. I don’t want to date your sister. Hell I don’t even think you actually have a sister, do you?”

“Shit yes, I got four of them. They come in all sizes and shapes, some fat, some skinny, some old, some young, you could have your pick.”

“I’ll pick the one that won’t be blown out of the water by going out with a blind person. I don’t care if she’s big as a house and over thirty, or even if she puts out or not. I’m just tired of all this polite bullshit, ‘Oh, Corky, I would love to, but you see, my grandmother just died again, and this time the funeral just happens to be on the same night as the home coming game. I am so sorry, honest I am.'”

“You’re shitting me. Is that what she said?”

“Well no, not exactly, but she might as well have. Not only that, but she says she’s got this classmate named Billie who would love to meet me, and even said I could come to their Christmas party at the nursing school and this Billie character would be there and would love to meet me .”

“Well then, that sounds cool. You going to do it?”

“I don’t know. Billie. What kind of name is that for a girl? Maybe this Billie character is a male student nurse or something. Hell, you’re trying to fix me up with an ugly sister of yours, maybe this Billie is Joyce’s kid brother and she thinks I won’t know the difference, for all I know.”

“You are pretty pissed off. You better decide tomorrow. You didn’t tell Joyce no already, did you?”

“No, I told her I’d see if I was free and let her know. That’s a laugh. When am I not free? I just don’t know if it’s worth another put down. Or worse than that, what if this Billie is a wacko who would like to help me get my sight back by finding Jesus, or doing Yoga, or waving magnets around, or taking a ton of fucking vitamins or something weird like that?”

“Okay, Okay. Shut up now, will you? I got to get some sleep.”

“Okay. Good night, Harry. Thanks for listening to my griping.”

“No problem. But next time I get to do the bitching and you get to do the listening, and we’ll be ‘Even Steven’.”

When Corky was feeling sorry for himself, he realized that he had two serious handicaps. One was his blindness, that was obvious, and the other was that he was cursed with three last names, and no recognizable first name. What had his parents been thinking of when they named him? Ferguson Campbell Cochran, whom everyone called Corky, lost his eyesight in a freak accident between an automobile and his bicycle when he was twelve. He had no other lasting injuries, but the event was an ordeal for Corky as well as for his family. Before his injury, he was an active, curious, and outgoing young boy just on the verge of adolescence, just beginning to notice that girls were interesting, and not just silly and stupid. In fact, the summer between seventh and eighth grades was the summer he would later recall as the summer of his “crotch watch.”

The “crotch watch” took place at a local playground where Corky became best friends with two sisters, Cheechee and Sylvia, Cheechee slightly younger and Sylvia slightly older than he. The girls didn’t look much like sisters. Cheechee was a skinny blonde with pigtails, and Sylvia was had nearly black hair that was curly, and a little on the wild side. But they both always wore the shortest of shorts, and loosely fitting ones too. They loved to take turns playing checkers with Corky, and when doing so they would each sit straddling the bench of a picnic table with the checkerboard between them. Corky loved looking at their panties beneath their shorts, and seeing how much skin he could make out down there. Cheechee was exciting enough to look at, but Sylvia was something else. Corky could make out mysterious wisps of curly black hair peeking out from Sylvia’s panties, not evident with Cheechee.

Their second favorite thing to do was to spend time on the seesaw, another opportunity for the girls to take turns straddling the opposite end of the plank, and generously bestowing on Corky all the pink a twelve year old could handle, plus the hint of a more adult mystery with the older girl. Sylvia’s budding breasts were more obvious too, but both girls had thousand watt smiles for Corky, and competed for his willing attention. What Corky did not realize at the time was that the erections that often created an obvious tent in his own baggy shorts would result in Cheechee and Sylvia recalling that same summer as the summer of their own “crotch watch.”

As Corky lay in the now quiet room waiting for sleep to claim his all too active mind, his troubled ruminations about the elusive Joyce and her mystery friend Billie gave way to more familiar images from years before. In his drowsy mind’s eye there was Cheechee with her sharp nose, her brilliant blonde hair in pigtails, and the invitation of her innocent crotch. There was also the darker image of her sister Sylvia, whose jet black curls framed her pixie face, and whose practically steaming crotch promised fulfillments Corky could only imagine. Corky dimly recognized the onset of that familiar recurrent dream. In his mind’s eye, now becoming his dream’s eye, their thousand watt smiles beamed again, and their now naked forms spread wide for him invitingly. His dream images were no longer sharp and clear and their young forms blurred, but Corky’s last impression before his sleep became deep was that at the center of each girl’s spread thighs, at her most private place, each girl displayed for him alone yet another of those treasured thousand watt smiles.

After Corky’s accident at age twelve his life was very different. He missed an entire year of school, rejoining the public school a year behind his former classmates. During that year he had a lot to learn about being blind, and many skills to master. He learned to use a long white cane with which to travel, to use a typewriter, and to read and write braille. He obtained a “Talking Book machine” and borrowed recorded books from the Library for the Blind. He had to relearn such mundane tasks as how to comb his own hair “without looking, how to use a knife and fork,” and how to get a dab of toothpaste on his stupid toothbrush without getting it all over everything. He got a braille wristwatch, a braille ruler, and even a braille checkerboard, or at least one he could use. The red squares were elevated slightly and the black ones a little lower. The red pieces were round and the black ones square. Instead of making a King by stacking one piece on top of another, each piece had a circular depression on one surface, and when the piece was made a King, it was turned with that side up. All these things were the accumulated “techniques of blindness,” that helped to lessen the burden during that year of his rehabilitation.

But the heaviest burden of all was one which Corky could not share with anyone. It was the conviction deep in his heart that his life as a sexual person, which had never really begun, was over, finished, doomed, and closed. There would never again be a girl or woman with one of those thousand watt smiles for him, and what kind of woman could ever be interested in a blind man? He himself had never even seen a blind person, and it was hard to believe all those autobiographies of successful blind people he read on Talking Books. He had just better forget about girls now that he would have to be blind for the rest of his life.

When Corky began high school, contact with the opposite sex was rare for him. His unhealthy self image and lack of confidence led him to be unusually shy, especially with girls. When others were going to the movies on dates, or going to dances and proms, making out, petting, maybe even more, Corky was always left behind, and spent all his time getting top grades in all his subjects. He soon developed a reputation as a brain, which didn’t help his social life any. He would rather have gotten laid like some of his buddies claimed they were, but it seemed that girls only liked guys with cars.. If they could be believed, his buddies were unfastening a lot of brassieres, getting into a lot of panties, doing a lot of finger fucking, getting a lot of blowjobs, etc., all with the help of their cars. He suddenly found himself a freshman in college, with virtually no experience with girls, and no clue what to do about it.

“Well I have to think about it,” Billie said.

” Please, please, please!” coaxed Joyce. “It’s just for the Christmas party, and besides, I already told him you just couldn’t’ wait to meet him.”

“Thanks a lot, Joyce. So now all of a sudden that makes it my problem? ” Billie was pissed. She did not like being manipulated, but she could not think of any other good reason not to help Joyce out of her predicament. Evidently this guy was pestering Joyce for a date, and Joyce just wanted to pass him around until he got the message and disappeared. So why not be a Joyce stand-in with this guy at their Christmas party? It would not be the first time. Joyce could be a bitch after all, and there probably wasn’t that much wrong with the guy, even if he was blind. That wasn’t the worst thing in the world, and it might just turn out to be interesting.

“I know, I know, i should never have encouraged him in the first place, but please, just this once, and I’ll never ask you to do anything like this ever again, honest!” Joyce now pleaded.

“Yeah, I bet you won’t. Okay, but just this once,” Billie relented, a little reluctantly.

Joyce was ecstatic, and gave Billie a warm hug. “You are an absolute angel, and besides, it will only be for a couple of hours and it will be over before you know it.”

And so it was arranged. Billie was constantly amazed at how young her student nurse classmates seemed, although the girls were all the same age. They seemed to be there, most of them, to set a trap for a good husband. An ambitious young medical student would be best, or better yet, an intern or resident, but until one came along, one had to keep oneself highly visible and ever available.

Not so with Billie. She was genuinely interested in her studies and in all that went with nursing. Maybe it was because of the summers she had spent since she was 15 on her uncle Dexter’s ranch in Montana. There she had a chance to see first hand how nature worked, how the livestock were bred and husbanded, how fragile life was, and how important it was to be able to foster growth and health, not only of the animals, but of the people who cared for them. She didn’t really want to become a veterinarian or a rancher herself, and nursing seem to be exactly the right path for her.

Not that Billie didn’t enjoy dating and the company of boys. In fact, if truth be told, those summers in Montana came about when her parents thought they had to intervene with her to tame a wild side that they saw developing. Billie fought their intervention like a tiger at first, but finally agreed to go all the way out West to fucking Montana of all places, and deal with Uncle Dexter, and his horses, and his ranch hands. And damned if she didn’t have the time of her life there. Returning to Montana every summer was Billie’s own idea, and her parents were happy to agree. She was careful to be a “good girl” at home after that first summer, so as not to spoil her chances for the next summer. That only meant she was more discreet with her occasional high school involvements than she had ever been before.

Willis Hospital with its School of Nursing was only a few blocks from the local college, which was still a men’s school. Officials of each institution took great pains to arrange for events where first year students from one school could mingle with those from the other. Thus the mixer where Joyce first met Corky, and also the Christmas party where he would be passed around like a plate of cookies to anyone who would have him.

On the evening of the party, about two dozen young men arrived at the School of Nursing in twos and threes. They were slightly outnumbered by the student nurses ,who greeted them warmly as they entered the spacious lounge of the residence. Billie spotted Corky with a friend, recognizing him immediately by the long white cane he used so deftly, and by the dark glasses he wore. Except for those things, he was actually pretty easy to look at. He was tall and well dressed, with a good posture and a contagious smile. Maybe this was not going to be such a chore after all.

After watching the arriving groups for a few minutes, and with no sign of Joyce to make introductions, she approached the pair of them.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for someone named Corky,” she said. “Do either of you know him?”

Corky beamed, and replied, “That’s me. I’m Corky. What’s your name?”

It worked! “I’m Billie,” she replied, “Joyce said you might be here.”

“Yes, Joyce,” he commented, “Oh, and this is Norman, We came together so he could help me learn my way.”

Billie and Norman exchanged greetings, and soon the party organizers announced that the evening would begin with a Caroling session, followed by refreshments later, and the festivities began. Billie gave Norman a knowing look, and gestured to him with a smile and a quick toss of her head.

“Oh, hey listen,” Norman said, “I’ll catch you later, Corky my boy. You two have fun, you hear?”

Billie said to Corky, “How about if I be your Norman? You won’t need that cane in here if you have some place to put it. Just stick with me, okay?” “That’s cool,” said Corky, and doing something that seemed magical, folded his cane like a carpenter’s rule, and slipped it into his jacket pocket. Billie took Corky by the hand and they merged easily with the throng of Carolers to start the evening.

When the singing was over and the revelers began to mill around again, Billie said, “Let’s get some goodies, okay? You like hot cider? They’re big on hot cider here, so you better say yes!”

“Sounds good to me,” Corky said, and followed Billie to the serving area. Billie filled two paper plates with brownies, cookies, and other treats, and placed a cup of the official beverage on each plate. “You better just hang on to me so I can carry these plates, okay?” she said.

“Yeah, I’d appreciate that. I’m not that good at carrying plates in a strange place.”

As Billie threaded their way to an unused corner of the room, Corky tagged along, lightly touching her arm, then touching her back, and her arm again, until they reached their destination. He had to touch her to follow her, but he was trying hard not to touch her any more than he had to.

As they settled around a coffee table with their treats, Billie spotted Joyce across the room, who silently mouthed the word “THANKS” without approaching them. Billie stuck her tongue out in response, and turning to Corky,said, “I’m probably pretty bad when it comes to helping you with things, so just tell me how I can do better, okay? I’ve never known anyone who couldn’t see before”

“Is that right? I’d never know it. You are doing great. And it’s okay to say ‘blind’, by the way. I’m not touchy about words. Anyway, we are probably both in the same boat.”

“Oh? How’s that?”

“I’ve never known a nurse before.”

Laughing, Billie said, “Not even Joyce?”

“Oh. Joyce. I didn’t really know her. I guess I forgot about Joyce.”

The rest of the evening was a delight for them both. At one point, Corky said, “You know what? I wasn’t sure you were even a girl.”

“You never can be sure these days, can you?” Billie said.

“No, I mean your name. When Joyce said her friend Billie wanted to meet me, I just didn’t know what to expect.”

“Well, my name is Pauline Evangeline Fredricks,” and my mother’s name is also Pauline Evangeline, so naturally I am called Billie after my father, whose name is William. But I was wondering about your name, too. Corky is not your usual name, either, you know.”

So Corky confessed having three names that all sounded like last names, and some of the initial mystery was dissipated for them both. When they parted at the end of the evening on the porch of the nurses’ residence, it seemed to Corky that Billie came quite close and maybe rose on tiptoes a bit before giving him a friendly hug. He noticed her perfume right away, and was so bold as to say, “Billie, may I call you after the holidays?” She replied, “That would really be great, please do.” And those words were enough to mark the evening as an incredible social success.

Instead of going in immediately, Billie watched from the doorway as Corky left. Norman was nowhere to be seen, but Billie figured that was Corky’s problem. She watched as Corky pulled the folded cane from his jacket pocket, gave it a sharp flick of the wrist, and it sprang into its full length as the several sections locked rigidly in place.

“Wow!” she thought, “Now that’s what I call sexy!”

Corky proceeded independently and confidently down the path to the sidewalk, and turned to continue toward the college campus. He seemed to be ten feet tall as he strode along, checking his way with the rhythmic oscillation of the cane.

“Corky!” she called out.

He stopped and turned toward her. She could swear he could see her, but of course she could not see his eyes to be sure, width those dark glasses.

“Thanks for coming, and don’t forget!” she added.

“No way, I won’t forget! Good night, Billie.” and he continued on his way.

That night as he lay in in deep sleep, Corky’s own personal pair of dream time playmates materialized to illuminate his inner world. The one a brilliant gold, and the other outlined in a pagan black, they offered him more than ever with those constant thousand watt smiles ablaze. Although their most intimate details were frustratingly impossible to resolve clearly in his dream’s eye, they each seemed to be holding their hands under their breasts, cupping them and offering them to him, kneading and squeezing them with slow and practiced motions.

But where did Cheechee get those breasts? Do even his dream time playmates grow up as time passes? Corky hoped so. He certainly intended to. And just before he returned to an oblivious deeper sleep, he could swear that Sylvia’s nipples transformed into a pair of eyes, and that one of those nipple eyes winked at him.

After the holidays and the final exams that followed, Corky was very anxious to see Billie, and so phoned Billie and they agreed to have dinner together. They could be finished in plenty of time for Billie’s 9:00 PM curfew. Life as a student nurse was right up there with life in the army, or in a convent, or so it seemed. Billie said she loved walking, and that was good news for Corky’s hopes. He had learned his way to the nurses’ residence the night of the mixer, so he could call for Billie without assistance, they could walk the few blocks to the restaurant together, and then back again to return Billie to her keepers.

Corky suggested Lum Fung’s, one of the few restaurants he had patronized before, and Billie happily agreed. They ordered two different combo dinners which Billie spotted and recommended from their menu.

“Too bad restaurants don’t have braille menus,” Billie commented.

“Some do, but not many. Sometimes when I’m feeling ornery I make the waiter read me the whole menu, and then before you know it, they get braille menus for blind folks to use.”

Billie laughed, and could easily imagine their panic at having to read an entire Chinese restaurant menu in that delightful “Chinglish” they all seemed to speak.

“Have you been blind all your life?” Billie asked innocently.

“Not yet,” Corky replied.

“Smart ass. You know what I mean.” but she was amused at his levity.

So Corky related the story of his injury years before, and some of the subsequent challenges and responses. Billie touched his hand across the table as he told of these things, and seemed quite moved.

“How about you? What did you do before starting at the hospital?” Corky asked.

“Oh, the usual, I guess. High school, things like that. Oh, and I spent the last several summers on Uncle Dexter’s ranch in Montana.”

“So you ride?”

“Every chance I get. In fact I have two beautiful horses back East here, Peggy and Jesabel, but Jesabel is blind and I have to be a little careful riding her.”

“You mean you ride a blind horse? That’s amazing.”

“Well, it’s really just for old time’s sake, since she loves it so, but it’s nothing like riding Peggy. She flies, she really flies. I wish you could see her some day … Oh Corky, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, no problem, I wish I could too. Please don’t worry about stuff like that, okay? I’d like us to be able to just say things and not worry about how it might be taken, okay?”

“Sure, that would be really cool, if you are sure about that.”

Their dinner arrived and they enjoyed it greatly. The ice had been broken, and each seemed more comfortable with the other than either had ever been before.

“Corky,” Billie cautiously ventured, “can I ask you something sort of personal?”

“Sure, shoot,” he replied.

“What are your eyes like?”

“My eyes?” he replied, a little startled.

“Yes. I mean you wear those dark glasses all the time. I’ve never even seen your eyes. Are your eyes scarred from the injury, or what? I wish I could see your eyes, that’s all. Is that too weird?”

Corky did not reply, but removed his glasses and looked in her direction, blinking slowly. His ruptured optic nerves blocked even the most rudimentary light perception.

After what seemed an endless silence, Billie said, “They’re blue. They’re beautiful, too, but you can tell they’re not focused. Does the light hurt them? Sometimes light hurts some people’s eyes, I mean like when they have something wrong with their eyes.”

“No, light doesn’t matter. I’m not sure why I wear these things. I guess it’s just a kind of badge or something, so people know right away I am probably a blind person.”

“Would you leave them off for me? I already know you’re blind.” she said.

“Sure, if you want me too, and won’t freak out.”

“Freak out? That’s silly. I enjoy looking at you, that’s all, and now I can look at your whole face if I want to.”

“You are one up on me, Billie. I wish to hell I could look at you, too. But it won’t help even if you take your own glasses off.” he said with evident emotion.

“I don’t wear glasses anyway,” replied Billie, with tears beginning to form, “and maybe you’re better off not looking at me after all. I’m pretty ordinary, you know. But I bet your Norman already told you that, right?”

“Believe it or not I never asked him, and I’ve hardly seen him since that night. Norman is not a particularly close friend, I just hitched a walk with him. Most people hitch rides, I hitched a walk.”

They laughed a little and grew silent, but continued to hold each other’s hands across the cluttered table. Billie was in turmoil. She thought to herself, “Damn it! What a bitch! I wish he could see me and tell me if I’m ordinary or ugly or pretty or whatever. It doesn’t matter what he would tell me, I just wish he could look at me like I look at him. Damn it to hell anyway!” And suddenly a plan began to take shape in her mind.

“Hey,” she said, “there’s something I been meaning to ask you.”

“What’s that?” Corky asked with some trepidation.

“Well, you see, I have this really really good friend Marianne. She was always a year behind me in school, so now she’s a senior. Her senior class is putting on a musical performance and Marianne is singing solo in it. She has a beautiful beautiful soprano voice, you would love to hear her.”

“That’s wonderful. You going to go?”

“I have to. I promised her. And what I was wondering was, would you go with me so you can hear her? I’d love for you to meet Marianne and hear her sing.”

“Wow! I’d love to do that. Where and when is this musical coming off?”

“It’s in our home town,” she named the town, “about an hour and a half by bus from here, and it’s two weeks from Saturday. If I could get an overnight that weekend, we could go by bus, and my parents would be happy to put up with us. I mean, put us up. We could hear Marianne, and I could show you Peggy and Jesabel, too.”

“Billie, I’d love to do that, that would be terrific,” Corky replied with genuine gratitude.

Much later, but in time for the all important curfew, they said their good-nights again on the porch of the nurse’s residence, where other couples were also saying their good-nights and sharing certain personal intimacies. There she was again, up close and on tiptoe, sharing her perfume. And poor Corky, once again overwhelmed by his self-consciousness, continued to small talk. Billie, who was not listening to him, finally said, “Corky, do you like me just a little bit?”

Startled, Corky replied, “Yes, I do. You know I do. I like you a lot, actually.””

“Then it’s okay to kiss me goodnight.” Billie prompted. It was their first kiss, and for Corky it was his first kiss ever. He was elated, and Billie began to wish she had more free time to spend with this very special person.

On the Saturday of the high school program, the bus took them to Billie’s home town, where there were gracious introductions and a pleasant family dinner to be shared. Billie’s parents had four tickets to the operetta, two for Saturday night and two for Sunday afternoon. She persuaded her folks to use the evening tickets, saying that she and Corky would go on Sunday. She argued that they had both worked really really hard all week right up to the moment they left for the bus, and needed to relax some and just hang out at home for the evening. They would make some popcorn and listen to some nice relaxing music.

When Billie’s parents got to their car, her mother said, “William, do you think the children will be all right alone tonight?”

“Now Polly,” he replied, “we went through all that a long time ago. Billie is a good girl, and after all, the poor boy is blind. No need to worry, trust me on that.”

“if you say so,” Polly replied, and they went on their way.