I’m dating the most gorgeous girl in
the world. Her name is Kelsey and she
looks like a supermodel. I guarantee
every guy in this restaurant is staring at her, thinking about how they’d love
to fuck her. But she’s with me—sitting across from me, staring into my eyes, that playful smile on her lips.
“You were right, Alex,” she says as
she grabs my hand across the table. “The
mussels here are fantastic.”
“Told you so.”
Kelsey’s smile widens. “I love
dating a foodie.”
I’m not a foodie, whatever the fuck
that is. But I’ve got money and
influence, so I know how to get into the best restaurants in town. My name opens doors. I can show Kelsey the
best clubs in the city and take her out for expensive meals. I can get tickets to the shows that have been
sold out for months.
I can do all those things. But the list of things I can’t do is probably a little more relevant:
I can’t walk.
I can’t even fucking stand.
Oh yeah. And I can’t fuck Kelsey. That too.
Kelsey squeezes my hand across the
table and winks at me. Her hand is as
soft as her lips and every nerve ending on my palm tingles like crazy. She leans across the table, her full lips
tantalizing me, her tits practically spilling out of her low cut blouse. “Kiss me,” she breathes.
I kiss her but it’s not the kind of
kiss either of us wants or the sort of kiss I would have given her Before. It’s a chaste peck, better than the kind
grandma would give you at Christmas, but definitely a church type of kiss. It’s
just enough to feel the softness of her mouth and detect the sweet odor of wine
on her breath. Just enough to make me
desperately want more. But I don’t do
public displays of affection. The last
thing I want is everyone in this goddamn bistro staring at the guy in the
wheelchair who’s inexplicably kissing a pretty girl.
I’ll kiss her for real when we get
back to my place. If there’s one thing
that works great, it’s my mouth. And I
know how to use it.
“Let’s get out of here,” Kelsey
says.
I nod and raise my hand to signal
for the check. From here, we’ll head back to my place so that we can be
together away from staring eyes.
Christ, I hope she doesn’t ask for
sex again.
*
Kelsey is on my lap, her arms wrapped
around my neck, her tongue entangled with mine.
I lace my fingers into her hair, which is slightly disheveled from our
ride home in my Porsche with the top down.
Kelsey loves my Porsche—she actually squealed when she saw it. If not for the hand controls, I would have
offered to let her drive it.
I have to wonder with a girl like
Kelsey. Before, I never used to wonder.
If a girl liked me Before, I’d feel confident of her attraction. But now is different. Does she just like me for my money? The car?
The access? The presents I buy her? Does she look at me and think to
herself, “It’s worth kissing him if I can get into the best clubs in town?”
Because when I look at Kelsey, shit…
I just don’t get it sometimes. Why would
she want to be with a cripple when she could have any guy she wants?
Kelsey unbuttons my shirt, which is
something I can deal with. My chest is
fine—maybe better than fine, now that I use my arms and shoulders to push my
chair all day. I don’t mind her seeing
that. It’s everything below the belt
that is off limits. Not that Kelsey
respects those limits.
Just to be clear about my intentions
tonight, I slip my hand up Kelsey’s skirt.
I navigate my way inside her thong, and locate her pussy. She’s already wet, which I take as a good sign.
Maybe she really does enjoy kissing me.
“I want to eat you out,” I whisper
in her ear.
Guys who won’t go down on their
girlfriends are fucking morons. There’s
nothing better than feeling my lips and tongue on Kelsey’s wet pussy. I love the way she writhes when I touch her
just right and the way her body spasms when she cums, then goes limp. And I don’t want to brag but I’ve gotten
really good at oral sex. No matter what her other motivations are, she’s got to
like that.
“Alex,” she says softly. “I was just thinking we could do something
different tonight.”
She’s toying with the button on my
pants. Shit. Why can’t she just stay away from there? There’s nothing down there that’s worth
seeing or experiencing. Everything down
there is either dead or useless. For
example:
My legs—I can’t move or feel
them. They may as well not even be there
except for the occasional embarrassing spasms that always happen at the worst
time.
My dick—that doesn’t work
either. It has failed me in every
possible way a dick could fail a guy. Starting
with the pad that I always have to wear in my underwear, because in spite of
medications and religious cathing every four hours, my bladder occasionally
spasms and there’s leakage. I can’t feel
when this is happens, but without the pad, I risk a stain on my crotch. So I’m stuck with it. (Lucky me, my bowels are a little more
cooperative to the magic bullet program I use, because I think if I had to wear
an actual diaper on a regular basis, that would be the end of my sex life. As it is, I just use it for long trips.)
Of course, that’s not the most
important way my dick has failed me. I’d
be okay with the occasional accidents if I could get an erection worth a
damn. I can’t feel my dick, but it does
get hard when you touch it. Hard enough
for penetration? Not even close. It’s a pretty pathetic erection.
My last girlfriend, Cleo, wanted me
to fuck her in the worst way. So we
tried it all—medications, penis pumps… I even stuck a fucking needle in my
dick. All we got was frustrated. The damn thing is dead. Dead. D.
E. A. D.
It was Cleo’s idea to start using
toys. But while I loved eating her out,
I drew the line at using a dildo to substitute for my inadequate dick. Just looking at her dildo made me feel
completely emasculated.
Her final idea was bringing in some
other guy. She said maybe we could pay
someone or find them off craigslist. And
I could watch some able-bodied guy do to my girlfriend all the things I wished
I could do. I thought nothing could be
worse than the idea of having to use a dildo to satisfy my girlfriend, but
there it was.
Well, you can see why that
ended. And why this may be going in the
same direction.
“Kelsey,” I say as I gently remove
her long fingers from my pants. “I told
you, it’s not worth going down there.
It’s just going to be disappointing.”
Every time I have to say it, it
feels like a dagger in my chest.
She frowns at me and pulls away
slightly. I grab the wheels of my chair
instinctively to maintain my balance. “So
we’re never going to have sex? Is that what you’re saying?”
I grit my teeth. “What I’m saying is
I can’t. I’ve tried, okay?”
“What about Viagra?” she asks.
“It doesn’t work,” I say, trying to
mask the way my voice cracks on the words.
“I’ve tried it all. Nothing
works. It’s… it doesn’t work, Kelsey.”
I stop short of telling her my dick is
dead. That’s not something you really
want to say to your gorgeous young girlfriend.
“I thought you might say that,” she
says. “So… I brought something in my
purse. A strap-on.”
I nearly choke. “You’ve got a dick in your purse?”
“Not a dick. A strap-on.”
“Is that sanitary?”
“Alex,” she sighs. “Will you stop
it? Look, I think we should give it a
try.”
I hate this. I have a
penis. I shouldn’t have to strap one
onto me. Of all the humiliating things
I’ve had to endure since I broke my back, this has got to be the worst.
“This is a special strap-on
specifically for men with erectile dysfunction,” Kelsey says. “You can actually
put your penis inside it.”
Wonderful. I can just imagine Kelsey shopping in a sex
store. Hey, do you have anything I can use to fuck my impotent boyfriend? They probably looked at her and thought I was
some old, limp-dicked rich guy that she’s dating to get to his money. Instead, I’m a young, limp-dicked rich guy
who’s hoping she actually likes me and isn’t just dating me for my money.
Kelsey undoes the button on my pants
and I start to get a sick feeling. She
wants this. If I don’t give her some
dick—mine or synthetic—I’m going to lose her.
“Okay,” I finally say, catching her
wrist before she can pull down my zipper.
“We can try it.”
She looks down at my hand on her
wrist. “You know, you’re going to have to take your pants off for this to
work.”
“Right,” I breathe.
I can’t figure out how to play this
so that she doesn’t have to find out about the incontinence pad I’ve got in my
underwear. It’s pretty much the opposite
of sexy. Especially if it’s wet, which
considering I’ve had a glass of wine (a diuretic), it almost certainly is.
“I need to use the bathroom first,”
I tell her.
Which is true. It’s been three hours since I cathed myself,
and although I usually wait four hours, I’m not doing anything to risk peeing
on the bed, or God forbid, on Kelsey. I
need to empty my bladder.
Kelsey consents and I wheel to my
bathroom. After the accident, I bought
an accessible apartment, with wide doorframes and a bigass bathroom. There’s a grabbar by the toilet to help me
transfer for when I do my bowel program, but I don’t need to transfer to
catheterize my bladder. I use an
all-in-one catheter, where the tubing is inside the bag, coming out as I push
it into my dick. My dick always gets
slightly hard when I cath myself, but it’s a tease. Not the sort of erection I could use to fuck
Kelsey.
After I empty my bladder, dump the
pad, and clean myself up, I feel nearly ready to face Kelsey again. I wheel back into the bedroom, where my
girlfriend is waiting for me in my bed, completely naked. The girl is all curves and tanned skin and giant
tits. As I stare at that perfect ass, it
seems almost impossible I’d still be soft.
But I know I am. I don’t even
have to check.
Lying next to Kelsey on the bed is
the rubber dick. It’s black with a black harness to presumably tie around my
waist, and a smaller ring that I suspect is supposed to encircle my balls. I stare it the thing for a minute, hating it
for being so effortlessly erect. Then I
feel like an idiot for being jealous of a rubber dick. What the fuck is wrong with me?
It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m not the only guy who can’t get it
up. That’s why they make these things.
Shit, I don’t know if I can do this.
“Alex?” Kelsey is staring at me with
her big blue eyes.
I sigh and wheel over to the side of
the bed. I scooch to the edge of my
chair, lift my butt onto the bed, then pull my legs in with me. That’s Kelsey’s cue to be all over me. All over my pants, anyway. She undoes the button, then the fly, then before
I know it, they’re coming off along with my underwear. Hell, I help her. It’s not like I can stop this.
I’m not exactly ashamed of my
legs. They’re not muscular or anything,
but they’re not awful. Thin, but not
emaciated. The one thing I hate is how
when they’re lying straight in bed, my feet always knock against each
other. And of course, the spasms. I really, really hate those stupid spasms.
I prop myself up on my elbows, and
both Kelsey and I are looking down at my dick.
Incidentally, it’s not doing much.
My dick is being a dick.
Figuratively, not literally. If
it were literally being a dick, it
would be getting hard right now, instead of lying crumpled against my balls.
Kelsey’s long fingers encircle my
dick and I can tell she’s going to give it the old college try. Girls like Kelsey aren’t used to not being
able to get a guy hard. I mumble, “Forget
it. Don’t bother.”
“I bet I could—”
“No,” I say. “You can’t.”
At first, I wonder if she’ll argue
with me, but she doesn’t. Instead, she
picks up the rubber dick. “So do you
want me to put it on you?”
Fuck no.
I nod my head just a few millimeters
and Kelsey runs with it. She starts
trying to put the dildo over my own useless dick, but it’s not that easy. My dick is too soft and it just smooshes
under the strap-on. Fortunately,
Kelsey’s got some lube stashed in her purse (I don’t want to know what else she’s
keeping in that thing), which she rubs over my dick. She keeps rubbing and my dick obliges with a
very half-hearted hard-on. But it’s good
enough to get inside the hollow area inside the dildo. We work together to get the straps in place
before the whole thing falls off.
I look down at my giant black
dick. I wish it were flesh-colored, so I
could at least pretend that it was really mine, although that would take some
serious imagination. It looks like what
it is—the only way for a guy with erectile dysfunction to fuck his
girlfriend. Well, I guess it’s better
than hiring another guy to do it for me.
Kelsey runs her hands over the dildo
to lube it up, which feels roughly the same as it would if she were touching my
actual dick. “You’re so big and hard,
Alex,” she breathes.
I don’t dignify that line with a
response.
She lines her pussy up with the
dildo and then a minute later, it’s inside her.
She grunts as she takes it. Christ,
I wish it were my own dick making her grunt like that. She closes her eyes, throwing her head back
as she grinds into me.
And I have to admit, it’s not as bad
as I worried it might be. Yeah, it’s
basically a prosthetic dick. But I’m the
guy she’s looking at while she slides up and down. I’m the one with one hand on her breast and
one touching her clit to make sure she cums because she told me once that
thrusting alone is never enough for her. I watch her, studying her face to know
if I’m touching her right, and her moans quicken and elevate in intensity.
“You’re going to make me cum, Alex,”
she gasps.
An hour ago, I would have remarked
that it wasn’t me but the dildo that was making her cum. But right now, I’m not so sure. I love the way she’s bouncing on top of me,
her nipples erect, her back arching intermittently. I love the way I can feel her wetness on my
fingers. And I don’t have to be
terrified I’m going to go limp at any moment—I can watch her and enjoy myself.
When Kelsey cums, she tosses her
head back and lets out a scream that will make my neighbors super jealous. She collapses against me, the strap-on still
inside her. I feel her damp chest
against mine, her tits squeezed against me.
Christ, she’s sexy.
“That was just what I needed,” she
whispers in my ear.
We lay that way for a few minutes,
then she slides off me. My strap-on is
still erect and ready to go, although it now seems slightly ridiculous. I don’t waste a second in getting it the fuck
off me, although that leaves behind only my sad, limp dick, which has no idea
that we just made a gorgeous woman climax.
“Thank you,” Kelsey says as she
reaches over to take my hand. I don’t
feel anything like I thought I would after this experience. I thought I’d feel
emasculated, but really, it’s just the opposite. I feel good. I feel like even though my dick won’t
respond, I’ve still got a way to give ladies that sensation that they crave.
“No,” I say. “Thank you.”
THE END
Great writing. A very catchy line IMHO: "My dick is being a dick" which is so utterly sad in its essence on the one hand, but so ingenious in its expression on the other.
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Great writing! Really enjoyed this!
ReplyDeleteThis is the author. Thank you for the comments, everybody. I had been nervous about posting this, so it's appreciated.
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DeleteUnfortunately, I don't have an anonymous email address at this time.
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ReplyDeleteYep, I liked that! Is there more where that came from?
ReplyDeleteI hadn't planned on there being more. But maybe I can come up with something else. Dunno...
ReplyDeletePlease please please please :)
DeleteIf u need more pleases..no problem..