The Blind Man’s Secret Maid

Wealthy and blind Klaus Richter hires the beautiful Siobhán as a live-in maid for his sprawling estate. He’s unaware of Siobhán’s biggest secret: she’s a hung futanari with a throbbing 25cm cock and a craving for his wife. Living under the same roof, Siobhán’s desires intensify, leading to a dangerous game of temptation and hidden lust. As Siobhán struggles to conceal her secret and resist her growing obsession, she begins to blur the lines of employer/employee, leading to steamy encounters, forbidden touches, and the risk of exposing her true nature. What will happen when Siobhán’s lust gets the better of her? Character Recaps: Klaus Richter: 48, wealthy, blind, kind but stern, trusts his wife implicitly, physically fit, oblivious to the erotic tension around him. Siobhán O’Malley: 32, Irish maid, futanari with a large member, outwardly demure but sexually voracious, secretly obsessed, struggling to control her desires.

The Blind Man’s Secret Maid

Wealthy and blind Klaus Richter hires the beautiful Siobhán as a live-in maid for his sprawling estate. He’s unaware of Siobhán’s biggest secret: she’s a hung futanari with a throbbing 25cm cock and a craving for his wife. Living under the same roof, Siobhán’s desires intensify, leading to a dangerous game of temptation and hidden lust. As Siobhán struggles to conceal her secret and resist her growing obsession, she begins to blur the lines of employer/employee, leading to steamy encounters, forbidden touches, and the risk of exposing her true nature. What will happen when Siobhán’s lust gets the better of her? Character Recaps: Klaus Richter: 48, wealthy, blind, kind but stern, trusts his wife implicitly, physically fit, oblivious to the erotic tension around him. Siobhán O’Malley: 32, Irish maid, futanari with a large member, outwardly demure but sexually voracious, secretly obsessed, struggling to control her desires.

The heavy oak door echoed through the opulent entryway of the Richter estate. Klaus, seated in a plush armchair near the grand fireplace, straightened.

“That must be Siobhán,” he announced, his voice a deep rumble. “Would you be a dear and let her in?”

A moment later, the door swung inward, revealing a woman with a cascade of fiery red hair. Siobhán stood on the threshold, clutching a worn leather satchel, her emerald eyes wide with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity.

“Good morning,” Siobhán said, her voice soft and lilting, tinged with a clear Irish accent. “Is this the Richter residence?”

Klaus’ head turned in her direction, though his milky, unseeing eyes remained fixed on some distant point. “Yes, it is. I’m Klaus Richter. And this is my wife.”

He paused, listening intently. “You must be Siobhán O’Malley. I’m glad you could make it. Are you finding the address alright?”

Then, turning slightly, Klaus addressed his next question to his wife: “My love, can you make sure our guest feels comfortable?”