Wednesday, September 14, 2016


Story by Daniel

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.”



  1. 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.

  2. I really loved this. Terrific writing!

  3. Enjoyed the writing style. Really was entertaining!

  4. Lovely story, really enjoyed it.

  5. That was a refreshing story. I hope you have some more coming. I really enjoyed it.

  6. After all the ditsy first person chick lit, it is so refreshing to get the guy's point of view.

    Bravo on some incredibly entertaining writing.

  7. Great writing! Really enjoyed this!

  8. This is the author. Thank you for the comments, everybody. I had been nervous about posting this, so it's appreciated.

    1. Incredible story. Can I ask for your email for a comment?

    2. Incredible story. The best i have read. Can I email you a question or 2??

    3. Unfortunately, I don't have an anonymous email address at this time.

    4. :)
      You should if you want to keep writing.
      Good luck. I still your story is great. ��

  9. Awesome! Thanks for posting :)

  10. Yep, I liked that! Is there more where that came from?

  11. I hadn't planned on there being more. But maybe I can come up with something else. Dunno...

    1. Please please please please :)
      If u need more problem..