by Ruth Madison
Rosie meets a smooth-talking paraplegic on the Internet and finds herself so enamored that she can't refuse his racy requests. But after she finds out he's talking to several girls, she turns the tables on him.
Just a warning, this story is on the explicit side of what I write! It's also shorter than most of my stories. Don't forget that you can also check out my website to read all of my free short stories (www.ruthmadison.com/free-romance-ebooks)
I have a terrible weakness for redneck country boys in wheelchairs. They look so tough and in control, like they can handle anything. They are totally cool with their hunting and off-roading. I am not their type. I look it at first, but that's only because I worked hard to hide my geeky past. In my heart I still am, and it always comes out. So in theory I'm looking for a nice, quiet, geeky guy in a wheelchair, but in practice if the bad boys find me, I can't seem to refuse them anything.
That's how it was with Max.
I didn't think I had a chance with him, but I tend to forget what I look like. I still remember myself as slightly pudgy with glasses and a uni-brow. In college I discovered tweezers and contacts, and my body subtly reshaped itself into a stunning hourglass. I could get just about any man I met just by wearing a tight t-shirt. I had silky black hair that reached to the bottom of my butt and warm Hispanic skin. None of that changed the fact that I played computer games every night and steamed through 500-page fantasy novels on the weekends. But Max didn't know that, he only saw the exotically beautiful woman in the profile picture.
When he called I was pleasantly surprised by his voice. His accent was a gentle mid-western drawl. He told me about his nieces and nephews, how he hoped to get married and have a family some day. He told me about his hobby refurnishing old wood furniture and his job at a local bank. For a girl caught in the superficial world of Los Angeles, it sounded hopelessly Norman Rockwell.
Every picture he sent was sexier than the last. Him holding up a huge fish he had just caught, him with a lopsided grin leaning forward over his paralyzed legs on the porch of a house, him at some kind of race car event, holding a beer, with barely-dressed girls on either side. I could almost come from just looking at them.
For some reason, after that first phone call he didn't ever want to talk on the phone again. It was always instant messaging and webcam with him. He sent me texts at all hours telling me to get online and I found it impossible to say no to him. He was just too gorgeous. He would turn on the webcam from his laptop while he got ready for work in the morning and even brought it into the bathroom where I could watch him shower.
You know, you could call, I would type.
Nah, this is better. Why don't you show me a little something?
I have no defense, no explanation for why I did what he told me. When he asked me to, I took off my shirt and my bra, rubbed my large breasts together on the webcam. I held them up with one arm against my ribcage and they flopped over the top, the nipples quickly hardening from the unexpected exposure to the air. With the fingers of my other hand I pinched them and the little shots of pain brought my body to life, blood rushing and pulsing through my veins.
Lower the camera, he typed, Let me see you touch yourself.
Obeying, I adjusted the webcam until it showed only the edges of my spread thighs and the pink flesh of my pussy. I watched, maybe as fascinated as he was, while my hands explored my own body.
With the backs of my fingers, I grazed my bare inner thighs and the soft skin tightened under my touch. I shifted in my seat, my body anticipating and wanting more. My fingers left trails of warmth against the skin so rarely exposed to the cool air wafting down from my ceiling fan.
I watched on the camera as my hand crept closer to my pulsing center. It could have been someone else’s hand, the manicured fingers of a stranger tracing along the lips of my pussy, pulling it open, revealing the dimpled pink skin shining with a clear gel of arousal.
A groan escaped me as I dipped my fingers into my tight, wet opening. They slid into the velvety darkness and sent ripples of sweet sensation racing through my body. My breath caught in my throat and I closed my eyes to fully savor the pleasure. Pressing the palm of my hand against the mound, I beckoned with my fingers into the shivering center.
When I opened my eyes, Max was watching, his face so close to his webcam that I could only see his eyes to his mouth. There was a look of intense anticipation in his eyes and I smiled slowly. Finally, for at least a few moments, I had the power over him. He wanted me, he needed me to show him my pleasure. Looking at his gorgeous face, I licked my lips and pressed my thumb against my hard, little clit.
My feet up on my desk, spread on either side of the computer, I slid my fingers in and out of my quivering body faster and faster while I rubbed my clit with the other hand. Desire built up tighter and tighter in me until I was ready to scream just to release it. The bundle of nerves between my legs seemed to have gathered every other nerve in my body and invited them to dance. I could feel nothing but the hot energy radiating from that one point.
Streams of pleasure rocked through me, coming like waves beating against a shore and I threw my head back, my body arching against my computer chair. Spent, I slumped back, lowering my feet and resting my neck on the back of the chair.
Nice, he typed.
I didn't think about how this behavior was at odds with his original phone call describing his desire for a wife and a family.
5:00 a.m. and I had a text from him. I'm in the shower, get up. I wanted to ignore him, but he was too beautiful.
When are you coming to see me? he typed.
Oh, I don't know about that...
You know you want to :)
Damn, he was right. Why did he have so much power over me? I felt like I would do almost anything to touch him in real life, to fuck that amazing body. Besides, this couldn't be a real relationship until we met, it would have to happen at some point. I was still thinking he was husband material.
I picked a weekend and bought a plane ticket. It was the first time I had ever bought something big like that without telling my parents. I also wouldn't tell them I was going anywhere at all. I planned to tell only my coworkers where I was, so that someone would know where to look in case I vanished. That was my idea of being careful on the Internet.
Max friended me on Facebook and I poured over his profile looking for more clues about his life and trying to imagine myself as part of it. There were so many photos. Some from his sister's wedding (him in a suit, yummy), at the reception with his three year old niece on his lap (oh my God, swoon), hanging out on a beach with his body stretched across a towel and his empty wheelchair behind him. He looked very young in that picture, all lean and lanky. There was a girl too. She looked plain, but pretty and had a kind face. She was in several of the pictures, but she wasn't his sister. I had a terrible curiosity and I wanted to figure out how the pieces of his life went together, so I asked him about her, but he wouldn't say who she was.
The next week I was hanging out with friends and telling them about my plans to go and meet a handsome new man. I had never met anyone off the Internet before and they were concerned, but I brushed off their fears. “You have to take a look at this guy,” I said. I pulled over one friend's laptop and logged onto Facebook, but I couldn't find Max. “This is weird,” I said. It was like he no longer existed. My friends assured me it was okay, but I was confused. It wasn't until I got home that night that I realized what could cause him to disappear. It wasn't that he erased his account. He must have blocked me. My face burned with humiliation even though I was alone in my apartment.
Did you block me on Facebook? I typed the next time I saw him on I.M.
Yeah, I did.
And you weren't going to say anything? What for?
I wanted to punish you for being jealous.
Oh. I thought how weird it was to punish me and not tell me. Wouldn't it make more sense to talk about it? To tell me that he thought I was being jealous? How was I supposed to know?
Should I cancel my plans to see you?
Don't ask me why, but I didn't. It was a strange thing for him to do, but I thought we could smooth it all out in person. That was until two weeks before the planned trip, when I was greeted with an unpleasant I.M.
I'm not going to be dating for a while. I seem to have gotten someone pregnant.
I stared at my computer screen, unable to move. My stomach felt like it was plummeting. Finally feeling came back to my extremities and I typed, Feel like telling me who she is? Someone new? An ex? Who?
After what I've shown you, I feel like I deserve to know.
Well then, good luck to you I guess, I typed and logged off. I stood up and paced the length of my small apartment, trying to work through my fury. I had a plane ticket bought and paid for on a proofreader's salary. It hit me in the gut that he had talked me into this, that he didn't offer to pay, that he didn't care that he had left me with this ticket on my credit card.
Six months later I was startled by another I.M. from Max. For a second I couldn't remember whose screen name it was.
Hey, aren't you a dad by now?
That's over, she miscarried. So, if you still want to come out...
I finally snapped out of it. Like a fever breaking, he didn't have the power over me anymore. I knew I would never meet him and that it was best for me that I not.
I don't think so.
It didn't occur to me until years later that the reason he didn't ever want to talk on the phone was that with instant messaging he could have a whole bunch of girls hooked up to his webcam feed at once. He could have been saying dirty things to any number of others while talking to me. I imagined that he probably had a bank of webcam images on his computer screen, five or six girls all masturbating in front of him at once. His behavior suddenly made sense. He knew exactly what to say and do to get girls hooked and I couldn't help feeling a little impressed with his amount of game.
Life went on. I dated a number of different people. I tried out able-bodied men (talk about awkward! So not worth it). I moved several times and finally settled down in Pennsylvania. Plenty of bad boy rednecks there, but still hard to find the paralyzed ones. I got a dog and pulled together a little life. I accepted that I might never fall in love or have a lasting relationship, all I could do was hope that there was a God who cared about my love life.
One day I was out shopping with no makeup on and my long hair in a boring braid. I rounded the corner and stopped short at the sight of a young man in a sexy wheelchair, which is to say a minimal frame so that the only visible part of it were the larger wheels. My eyes took in a strong, bulked up body over the narrow legs. I knew that profile. I knew the shape of that body. It was him. It was Max. I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. I was suddenly weak in the knees. I had only ever seen this man through a computer screen; I almost didn't believe he actually existed. Here he was, though, in my world.
Just my luck, he was even more gorgeous in person. Chiseled jaw and tousled blonde hair.
“Excuse me, Max?”
“Yeah?” he said with total disinterest, not taking his eyes from the shelf.
“I'm sure you don't remember me. I'm Rosie. I know you from the Internet.”
That got his attention. His startling blue eyes leapt up to meet mine and his cocky grin appeared.
I leaned over behind him, put my hands on his rock-hard shoulders, and took in his deep, musky scent. I put my lips right against his ear, knowing how my breath would tickle and whispered, “All I want is a one night stand.”
He turned his head to me, still grinning. “Let's get out of here.”
I followed him out to his car, biting my lip as I watched his powerful shoulders pushing against the rims of his wheels. Though he used hand controls on the car, he still found frequent moments to reach over to me in the passenger seat and run his hands up my bare legs to the edge of my skirt. I touched his thick, callused fingers, still startled to find him a real, physical human being. The windows of the car were down and the small hairs framing my face blew around wildly, tickling my skin. I wiggled in my seat, unable to control the prickles of desire bursting through my pussy.
Back at his place we didn't even get the lights on before I was on him. The door had barely closed as I pushed his legs together and got mine on either side, my knees against his hips on one side and pressed against his wheels on the other. Luckily, in my rush to get out the door that day, I hadn't wanted to bother with finding clean underwear or a matching outfit, so I was wearing nothing but a sundress and a bra, and I scrunched the dress up around my waist.
Max had unzipped his pants without me noticing and suddenly he was inside me, sliding in smoothly and easily. I savored the feeling of being completely full and I rocked my hips against him, one hand on the back of the chair, moaning in pleasure. The other hand was flung behind me as though I were riding a mechanical bull.
He was thick and wide, stretching against the walls of my pussy and filling me completely. With each thrust, I felt every nerve in me tingle. His hands were on my butt, squeezing the cheeks as though pumping more pleasure into me. The wheelchair shook and trembled with the force of my thrusts and I wondered if we might topple over, spilling onto the floor. He grabbed hold of my hips and started controlling the motion and I fought him for it. His fingers grew stronger and stronger pressing into my flesh. I grabbed his hair and squeezed his scalp with my fingernails.
The tension in my body ratcheted tighter and tighter. I pushed to move faster even with his tight fingers trying to hold me back. When I came it felt like sand being sucked forcefully back into the ocean with a retreating wave. I fell against him, limp, the sweat on my cheek melding with the sweat on his neck.
“I'm like fucking in love with you,” he said.
I felt warmth spread through me until I realized what a great line it was. “Son of a bitch, you're good.”
“You don't believe me?”
I laughed. “Of course I don't believe you!”
While I was still laying against his shirt, he pushed his wheels and moved us both to his bedroom. The bed was exactly what I'd imagine for a bachelor pad. It was large with an overbearing dark wooden headboard and black silk sheets. He lifted me with his strong arms and threw me onto the bed. The smooth sheets cooled my hot body and I ran my fingers along the sensuous fabric. I licked my lips as I watched him transfer his body.
“Nice,” I said as he swung his butt onto the bed. He rolled his eyes and began to wiggle out of his clothes. I continued to just watch, enjoying the show instead of helping. As he got his pants down, his penis bounced back out, as springy as before. I pulled the sundress off over my head and unhooked my bra, throwing both to the floor.
When he was undressed, he grabbed my wrists and yanked me on top of him. I dug my fingernails into his wide chest, and his pecs were so solid that I didn't even make a mark. I braced my feet on either side of him and pushed myself down his shaft while I tightened my muscles, enjoying every moment of the resistance.
My clit was still engorged and sensitive from the last orgasm and it exploded with every slide up and down his body, pressed against his stomach. Slipping up and down the length of him, I moved faster as I became wetter and wetter. He flicked at my boobs as the nipples flew past his face. His hands swept down my rib cage and waist, then up to the soft flesh just under my chest, pressing tightly. I moaned and gripped his shoulders. He reached around and gave my ass a hard slap. The sharp sting was enough to push me over the edge again and I grabbed hold of him with all my strength as another orgasm rocked through me.
Max wasn't finished, though. With his injury level, he couldn't ejaculate and so there was no end to his hunger for me. He shifted me off his body to the side and turned his head, taking one of my tits into his mouth, licking and flicking his tongue over my nipple, then giving a little bite that had me gasping.
I grabbed hold of one of his hands, felt the roughness of it in mine. Then I slowly lowered my mouth over one of his fingers. I swirled my tongue at the base of his pointer finger and dragged my teeth gently up the length of it. When I reached the tip, I sucked and pulled on it hard with all the strength in my mouth. He groaned and closed his eyes while I continued to purse my lips and suck all the way down and up his finger.
With another grunt, he suddenly took his hand back, grabbed hold of me with his strong arms and flung me to the side. My braid flew out and hit the headboard. Max put a hand above each of my shoulders and propped himself over me. He raised an eyebrow at me until I reached down and grabbed hold of his dick, forcing it back into me. My raw pussy quickly warmed to being filled again and seemed to suck him hungrily in. Max pushed in and out using only his arms, and the dead weight of his lower body rubbed against me just right. He arched his back and grunted, sweat gathering along his hairline. I watched the muscles in his arms strain to hold him up.
"Baby," he said, "If I could come, I would be doing it right now."
I reached my hands up and wrapped my arms around him, lowering him gently back to the bed. We finally fell asleep tangled in each other's bodies and slept almost all day. I woke up in the afternoon, as content as I had ever been. I don't know why I could finally see Max and appreciate him exactly as he was. I could enjoy him for sex and forget the rest. Perhaps it was just age and maturity. I could see how silly it was that I ever thought this man was relationship material.
We kept meeting up and I think the regular sex kept me relaxed and cheerful, so I was ready when I finally did meet a cute quad guy in the sci-fi section of the Barnes and Noble and ditched Max for good.
Thanks for reading! I hope you'll visit me at www.ruthmadison.com