IPOD
RADIO
the gymp fuck storie, what is sex in a chair like
i'm back after being a long preoccupation with my occupation. i thought i'd repost a story i wrote a year ago to reintroduce myself and maybe get some attention.
When you are in a chair like I am, physical contact is rare. The chair is a divider between you and the rest of humanity. Only little girls without stereotypes ingrained into there innocence, over affectionate aunts and the occasional close friend make it pasts the wheelchairs force field to give the much welcome hug kiss or even hand on shoulder.
Sex... Frustration, agony, dreams unrealized, hope wrapped in torment, love strangled by embarrassment, just a few of the things separating me from cardinal knowledge but occasionally when thing go just right nothing compares. It is these first emotions that must be over come.
Imagine a beautiful young lady sitting across from you at dinner; flashing you smiles touching your arm and flipping her hair as the conversation turns to something more erotic. You begin to realize that she is wearing her good underwear and you are about to get lucky. Any other person would skip the dessert menu, pay the bill and drive this lady to the closest convenient location to get her out of her cloths as quickly as possible.
This doesn't happen because… the sex talk hasn't occurred yet. All this girl knows is that you are somewhat cute, rather charming and she has a bit of a sympathy thing going for you. For her this adds up to… "Ok. This guy is worth a toss". But there is much more she hasn't taken into consideration. Things that would most likely put you out of the running.
On to the bed room; I need help transferring into bed, so the games can only begin once I've transferred. This eliminates spontaneity! I have someone who helps with that at a set time usually the time is worked out 24 hours in advance. I suppose I could transfer in the middle of the day but that would be very conspicuous. Especially because my help would have to leave and come back a few hours later to get me up again. This may raise an eyebrow besides being extremely difficult to set up. The biggest thing is this; I'm not your typical guy who just wants a pretty face to look at while he cums. I can't cum. I can just slightly feel my own dick. I want to take it slow; see every inch of the girl I'm with, feel the texture of her skin against mine. I want to taste her, feel her warmth!!!
Now for the nitty gritty. A condom catheter is taped to my dick and connected to a tube that allows me to pee. Step 1, Remove the condom catheter, and there I am ready for a good time. You would think. Remember that condom catheter had a purpose; to catch and redistribute urine. This is where I hope I didn't drink too much at dinner. Step 2, A little manual stimulation and my reflexes produce a full blown erection. An erection… the only thing below my injury that still works.
The lights finally go down and I relax because if she hasn't left yet all systems are "go." I have a chubby ready for action and a beautiful, understanding woman looking down at me, her hair falling forward tickling my face and shoulders. I try to take this moment in; someone to hold, be next to. In this way I think sex is better than before my injury. The connection you have after such a struggle can be wonderful but many often I don't get over the feeling of embarrassment and inadequacy, I know regardless of the attraction, love and combined feelings she my have for me, sex will never be completely satisfying for either of us in a traditional sense. Good sex is more than a stiff penis. Holding touching moving all play a part and I am very much like a taking blow up doll for her. I can't go down on her, caresses her or make moves.. I have to direct her to move up so I can… you know… I want to… well… lick… "JUST SIT ON MY FACE. Ok." It is even worse in person than reading it here. There is no good way to direct sex. I would like to suck on your nipple, please. It is almost comical, like a game of Simon says.
Like a blind person my body compensates for the lack of feeling in some areas by making others hypersensitive. I have come close to orgasm from the light touches and kisses to my neck. Sucking my nipple has made me lose the ability to speak. I LOVE DEEP FRENCH KISSING. As for what I can do for my lady; I can offer an almost continuous erection. My dick loves nothing better than to be played with and will stay hard as long as it gets attention. I also love to perform oral sex on my partner. Eating pussy provides me a connection to my partner that my dick only previously experienced. I take great pleasure in exploring every fold and nuance of her. Sex is definitely different, but it can be great. Sometimes different is great. It does take playful understanding on her part.
I recently discovered that if I'm forced to keep my head arched back while my partner kisses and licks up the center of my neck over my Adams apple I cam actually have something like an organism. What happens it fucking rocks. Please give me more
Sex usually has a flow or progression. From the flirting - hot heavy kissing and petting - cloths ripping - flesh pounding - relief - cuddling and talking. Most of these things still occur but in a stuttered truncated way. I know I'm not going to climax, so the relief never happens (it kind of does happen, about a half hour after she's asleep and I look down and see her laying there with me, not a climax but a nice large ego boost).
The act of sex for me is scary and embarrassing but at the same time wonderfully fulfilling. When a woman is willing to put up with all that and still decides it is worth it and especially if she comes back for more something happens between us that can't be described. It is a bond that only lovers have but more so somehow. It is more about intimacy and less about explosive passion. As for me, what is it like, what do I feel (physically)? I can't feel hot or cold, wet or dry, sharp or dull. What I feel is pressure but more significantly I feel the pounding pressure, the build up to the climax, the rush of adrenalin and in the cruelest trick Mother Nature has ever played I can't climax. Does that mean I haven't experienced an orgasm since I've been in a chair? Yes!!! It's very much like trying to have sex through a rather thick sleeping bag.
i'm back after being a long preoccupation with my occupation. i thought i'd repost a story i wrote a year ago to reintroduce myself and maybe get some attention.
When you are in a chair like I am, physical contact is rare. The chair is a divider between you and the rest of humanity. Only little girls without stereotypes ingrained into there innocence, over affectionate aunts and the occasional close friend make it pasts the wheelchairs force field to give the much welcome hug kiss or even hand on shoulder.
Sex... Frustration, agony, dreams unrealized, hope wrapped in torment, love strangled by embarrassment, just a few of the things separating me from cardinal knowledge but occasionally when thing go just right nothing compares. It is these first emotions that must be over come.
Imagine a beautiful young lady sitting across from you at dinner; flashing you smiles touching your arm and flipping her hair as the conversation turns to something more erotic. You begin to realize that she is wearing her good underwear and you are about to get lucky. Any other person would skip the dessert menu, pay the bill and drive this lady to the closest convenient location to get her out of her cloths as quickly as possible.
This doesn't happen because… the sex talk hasn't occurred yet. All this girl knows is that you are somewhat cute, rather charming and she has a bit of a sympathy thing going for you. For her this adds up to… "Ok. This guy is worth a toss". But there is much more she hasn't taken into consideration. Things that would most likely put you out of the running.
On to the bed room; I need help transferring into bed, so the games can only begin once I've transferred. This eliminates spontaneity! I have someone who helps with that at a set time usually the time is worked out 24 hours in advance. I suppose I could transfer in the middle of the day but that would be very conspicuous. Especially because my help would have to leave and come back a few hours later to get me up again. This may raise an eyebrow besides being extremely difficult to set up. The biggest thing is this; I'm not your typical guy who just wants a pretty face to look at while he cums. I can't cum. I can just slightly feel my own dick. I want to take it slow; see every inch of the girl I'm with, feel the texture of her skin against mine. I want to taste her, feel her warmth!!!
Now for the nitty gritty. A condom catheter is taped to my dick and connected to a tube that allows me to pee. Step 1, Remove the condom catheter, and there I am ready for a good time. You would think. Remember that condom catheter had a purpose; to catch and redistribute urine. This is where I hope I didn't drink too much at dinner. Step 2, A little manual stimulation and my reflexes produce a full blown erection. An erection… the only thing below my injury that still works.
The lights finally go down and I relax because if she hasn't left yet all systems are "go." I have a chubby ready for action and a beautiful, understanding woman looking down at me, her hair falling forward tickling my face and shoulders. I try to take this moment in; someone to hold, be next to. In this way I think sex is better than before my injury. The connection you have after such a struggle can be wonderful but many often I don't get over the feeling of embarrassment and inadequacy, I know regardless of the attraction, love and combined feelings she my have for me, sex will never be completely satisfying for either of us in a traditional sense. Good sex is more than a stiff penis. Holding touching moving all play a part and I am very much like a taking blow up doll for her. I can't go down on her, caresses her or make moves.. I have to direct her to move up so I can… you know… I want to… well… lick… "JUST SIT ON MY FACE. Ok." It is even worse in person than reading it here. There is no good way to direct sex. I would like to suck on your nipple, please. It is almost comical, like a game of Simon says.
Like a blind person my body compensates for the lack of feeling in some areas by making others hypersensitive. I have come close to orgasm from the light touches and kisses to my neck. Sucking my nipple has made me lose the ability to speak. I LOVE DEEP FRENCH KISSING. As for what I can do for my lady; I can offer an almost continuous erection. My dick loves nothing better than to be played with and will stay hard as long as it gets attention. I also love to perform oral sex on my partner. Eating pussy provides me a connection to my partner that my dick only previously experienced. I take great pleasure in exploring every fold and nuance of her. Sex is definitely different, but it can be great. Sometimes different is great. It does take playful understanding on her part.
I recently discovered that if I'm forced to keep my head arched back while my partner kisses and licks up the center of my neck over my Adams apple I cam actually have something like an organism. What happens it fucking rocks. Please give me more
Sex usually has a flow or progression. From the flirting - hot heavy kissing and petting - cloths ripping - flesh pounding - relief - cuddling and talking. Most of these things still occur but in a stuttered truncated way. I know I'm not going to climax, so the relief never happens (it kind of does happen, about a half hour after she's asleep and I look down and see her laying there with me, not a climax but a nice large ego boost).
The act of sex for me is scary and embarrassing but at the same time wonderfully fulfilling. When a woman is willing to put up with all that and still decides it is worth it and especially if she comes back for more something happens between us that can't be described. It is a bond that only lovers have but more so somehow. It is more about intimacy and less about explosive passion. As for me, what is it like, what do I feel (physically)? I can't feel hot or cold, wet or dry, sharp or dull. What I feel is pressure but more significantly I feel the pounding pressure, the build up to the climax, the rush of adrenalin and in the cruelest trick Mother Nature has ever played I can't climax. Does that mean I haven't experienced an orgasm since I've been in a chair? Yes!!! It's very much like trying to have sex through a rather thick sleeping bag.
I am contemplating what I should write next. What would interest you?
• My adventures in a chair, close calls with death, break downs and embarrassments.
• Most embarrassing moment. Happened before the chair but is still talked about amongst my family
• Last sexual encounter.
• The weeks after my accident and how I coped and my family friends reacted.
• Or just a piece of fiction that you name.
It's narcissistic of me to think anyone even wants to hear about this shit. I guess no more so than any of the girls here stripping and hoping someone wants to see (which I do), I just hope stripping is as cathartic as writing.
• My adventures in a chair, close calls with death, break downs and embarrassments.
• Most embarrassing moment. Happened before the chair but is still talked about amongst my family
• Last sexual encounter.
• The weeks after my accident and how I coped and my family friends reacted.
• Or just a piece of fiction that you name.
It's narcissistic of me to think anyone even wants to hear about this shit. I guess no more so than any of the girls here stripping and hoping someone wants to see (which I do), I just hope stripping is as cathartic as writing.
how i broke my neck
July 19th, I was camping with a friend near Salem. I woke up around 9am and began to plan my day. I had to be at work at 3pm, I had to get laundry done and play with my black lab, who had been locked in her kennel since noon the previous day.
I left my friends who were all still asleep, got in my truck and started home. About an hour later I pulled up to my folks place where I was living at the time, let my dog out and took her inside. My mom was just leaving. She said she was going shopping at Nordstrom's and asked if I needed anything. I hugged her and simultaneously began to open the fridge. I pulled out some cold cuts, tossed one to the dog and walked over to the phone and called Jake. Jake was a friend who lived just around the block from me. I asked him if he wanted to go to "Kelly Point Park" with me to play with Flash (my lab) for a couple hours before I had to be at work.
I grabbed a Frisbee out of my truck, walked down the dirt ally to the next street where I found Jake washing his car a 1972 Challenger. We got in his car and headed into St Johns. I grew up in NoPo (North Portland) right on the edge of St. Johns. St. Johns is a strange little part of town. It is the oldest part of Portland and at more than one time has been a separate city. It is very much a working class neighborhood that is the geographic arm pit of Portland. What I mean by that is that it is cut off on 3 sides by rivers and unless you have a reason for being in St. Johns you don't just pass through on your way to somewhere else. In this way the area is like a small town. Everyone knows everyone else. Cars going through the neighborhood are filled with friends or acquaintances or at very least you have seen them before. I grew up down there in deep NoPo and was use to it but recognized that the neighborhood was a bit odd.
As we rolled trough down town St. Johns Jake filled me in on the latest gossip. There was an affair that everyone in the neighborhood knew about going on between 3 house holds and 4 people who all lived on our block. It was great fun keeping track of the clandestine in's and out's through cellar doors and unlit porches.
We were soon at Kelly Point. If you are not familiar with this park it is where the Willamette and Columbia rivers come together. The farthest point north you can go and still be within Portland city limits. We would joke as kids, that the only way to get out of St Johns was to swim for it.
It was hot that day, about 95 degrees. We parked and headed into the trees toward the Willamette. On this side of the park there is a big grass field facing the river and looking directly across the channel at Sauvie Island. The local call this area "the field"
I threw the Frisbee for the dog and she went running through the field. The field was full of people trying to escape the heat. Remember this is St. Johns I new most of the folks sunning themselves. I made my way toward the water as flash met me with the Frisbee. I threw it again, this time it made it into the water about ten yards out. Flash raced out for it. On her way she knocked over a little kid and a cooler. I followed her picking up the kid and the cooler. Flash made it back again with her toy and was dancing around me in anticipation of her next run into the water. I threw it as hard as I could. This time it must have been 30 yards out in the river.
Flashes swim into the Willamette looked refreshing. It was so hot and I wanted to get cooled off as well. I pulled off my shirt, glasses, hat and kicked off my shoes leaving me in just my lime green corduroy OP shorts as I ran into the water. I was between knee high and waste high in water running as best I could, I launched forward and did a surface dive. I grew up next to 2 rivers and had done such a dive thousands of times in my life.
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Was I dreaming, am I on another planet, am I dead. I can't see very well, and what is it I am seeing anyway, I can't feel - it's as if I'm a disembodied head, I can't hear. Wasn't I just camping with Tina, no wait mom is shopping, no NO. At this point I saw Flash swimming around me. This brought me back to reality but scared the sh!t out of me. This murky green stuff in front of my eyes was the river but for some reason I couldn't get out of it. As I panicked I began to yell for help but all I did was produce bubbles. I soon passed out.
I came to and saw everyone. The whole park was standing around me and stranger still there was a tug boat beached off my right side about 20 feet away. I could hear my friend somewhere in the distance yelling he's blue. There was a man I didn't know kneeling off my left side and just beyond him was the tug boat, he was on a cell phone, one of those early cell phones, the kind that came in a suitcase. I heard him say screw the ambulance send a helicopter. Behind me another poorly shaven middle age man wearing a wife beater smiled at me. He was holding my shoulders with his hands and bracing my head between his forearms. The people from the park were organizing to hold a towel up to block the sun from my eyes.
My name is Capt Elroy the man with the phone said. Can you talk? He asked. I responded but to my surprise it wasn't easy (when I damaged my spinal cord I was only left with about 40% of my ability to take a breath). What's going on? I asked. I was just playing with my dog and... I think you hurt your back. He said. I can't feel my feet. I replied. Capt Elroy looked down toward my feet and said. Your feet are in the water, the water comes up to your knees.
I told Capt Elroy mom was shopping and that dad was at annual training in Fort Lewis. He chatted me up keeping me calm until the helicopter landed.
2 EMT's put a collar around my neck and strapped me to a back board. They loaded me in the helicopter through an opening in the back. As I slid in, it was like going through a tunnel. I was looking up at a group of switches and a pair of headphones. Clip clip, rattle snap and finally a door shut. A shutter and the headphones leaned forward and touched the roof then relaxed back down. A woman came into view.
I guess I found a new way to get out of St. Johns!
At this point I had no idea the gravity of my situation. I was thinking; I hope Jake takes care of Flash and gets my hat (it was new), this nurse is really cute and I have to be at work at 3, I hope this doesn't take long.
They sent me to a "cat scan" then put me on elevator. The lift stopped, mom got on, at first she didn't realize it was me. When we made eye contact, I KNEW. This wasn't something I was going to charm my way out of. Mom is a nurse and her face told the story. She wasn't upset about what I had done. I could tell she was profoundly shook.
A side note:
Jake saw me doing a dead-mans float in the water and went into the water and found me passed out and blue. He drug me on shore and freaked out. This got the attention of the people close. Soon the panic spread up the park and everyone raced to the shore to help. There were about 100 people standing around me. This got the attention of Capt Elroy who was going up the channel in his tug. He saw me and beached his tug. He had seen someone do something similar the previous summer so he had the forethought to have a deck hand immobilize my spine so I couldn't do more damage to my spine. I found out later he had my mother paged at every Nordstrom's until he found her and the found my dad at Fort Lewis
I was 20…
July 19th, I was camping with a friend near Salem. I woke up around 9am and began to plan my day. I had to be at work at 3pm, I had to get laundry done and play with my black lab, who had been locked in her kennel since noon the previous day.
I left my friends who were all still asleep, got in my truck and started home. About an hour later I pulled up to my folks place where I was living at the time, let my dog out and took her inside. My mom was just leaving. She said she was going shopping at Nordstrom's and asked if I needed anything. I hugged her and simultaneously began to open the fridge. I pulled out some cold cuts, tossed one to the dog and walked over to the phone and called Jake. Jake was a friend who lived just around the block from me. I asked him if he wanted to go to "Kelly Point Park" with me to play with Flash (my lab) for a couple hours before I had to be at work.
I grabbed a Frisbee out of my truck, walked down the dirt ally to the next street where I found Jake washing his car a 1972 Challenger. We got in his car and headed into St Johns. I grew up in NoPo (North Portland) right on the edge of St. Johns. St. Johns is a strange little part of town. It is the oldest part of Portland and at more than one time has been a separate city. It is very much a working class neighborhood that is the geographic arm pit of Portland. What I mean by that is that it is cut off on 3 sides by rivers and unless you have a reason for being in St. Johns you don't just pass through on your way to somewhere else. In this way the area is like a small town. Everyone knows everyone else. Cars going through the neighborhood are filled with friends or acquaintances or at very least you have seen them before. I grew up down there in deep NoPo and was use to it but recognized that the neighborhood was a bit odd.
As we rolled trough down town St. Johns Jake filled me in on the latest gossip. There was an affair that everyone in the neighborhood knew about going on between 3 house holds and 4 people who all lived on our block. It was great fun keeping track of the clandestine in's and out's through cellar doors and unlit porches.
We were soon at Kelly Point. If you are not familiar with this park it is where the Willamette and Columbia rivers come together. The farthest point north you can go and still be within Portland city limits. We would joke as kids, that the only way to get out of St Johns was to swim for it.
It was hot that day, about 95 degrees. We parked and headed into the trees toward the Willamette. On this side of the park there is a big grass field facing the river and looking directly across the channel at Sauvie Island. The local call this area "the field"
I threw the Frisbee for the dog and she went running through the field. The field was full of people trying to escape the heat. Remember this is St. Johns I new most of the folks sunning themselves. I made my way toward the water as flash met me with the Frisbee. I threw it again, this time it made it into the water about ten yards out. Flash raced out for it. On her way she knocked over a little kid and a cooler. I followed her picking up the kid and the cooler. Flash made it back again with her toy and was dancing around me in anticipation of her next run into the water. I threw it as hard as I could. This time it must have been 30 yards out in the river.
Flashes swim into the Willamette looked refreshing. It was so hot and I wanted to get cooled off as well. I pulled off my shirt, glasses, hat and kicked off my shoes leaving me in just my lime green corduroy OP shorts as I ran into the water. I was between knee high and waste high in water running as best I could, I launched forward and did a surface dive. I grew up next to 2 rivers and had done such a dive thousands of times in my life.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Was I dreaming, am I on another planet, am I dead. I can't see very well, and what is it I am seeing anyway, I can't feel - it's as if I'm a disembodied head, I can't hear. Wasn't I just camping with Tina, no wait mom is shopping, no NO. At this point I saw Flash swimming around me. This brought me back to reality but scared the sh!t out of me. This murky green stuff in front of my eyes was the river but for some reason I couldn't get out of it. As I panicked I began to yell for help but all I did was produce bubbles. I soon passed out.
I came to and saw everyone. The whole park was standing around me and stranger still there was a tug boat beached off my right side about 20 feet away. I could hear my friend somewhere in the distance yelling he's blue. There was a man I didn't know kneeling off my left side and just beyond him was the tug boat, he was on a cell phone, one of those early cell phones, the kind that came in a suitcase. I heard him say screw the ambulance send a helicopter. Behind me another poorly shaven middle age man wearing a wife beater smiled at me. He was holding my shoulders with his hands and bracing my head between his forearms. The people from the park were organizing to hold a towel up to block the sun from my eyes.
My name is Capt Elroy the man with the phone said. Can you talk? He asked. I responded but to my surprise it wasn't easy (when I damaged my spinal cord I was only left with about 40% of my ability to take a breath). What's going on? I asked. I was just playing with my dog and... I think you hurt your back. He said. I can't feel my feet. I replied. Capt Elroy looked down toward my feet and said. Your feet are in the water, the water comes up to your knees.
I told Capt Elroy mom was shopping and that dad was at annual training in Fort Lewis. He chatted me up keeping me calm until the helicopter landed.
2 EMT's put a collar around my neck and strapped me to a back board. They loaded me in the helicopter through an opening in the back. As I slid in, it was like going through a tunnel. I was looking up at a group of switches and a pair of headphones. Clip clip, rattle snap and finally a door shut. A shutter and the headphones leaned forward and touched the roof then relaxed back down. A woman came into view.
I guess I found a new way to get out of St. Johns!
At this point I had no idea the gravity of my situation. I was thinking; I hope Jake takes care of Flash and gets my hat (it was new), this nurse is really cute and I have to be at work at 3, I hope this doesn't take long.
They sent me to a "cat scan" then put me on elevator. The lift stopped, mom got on, at first she didn't realize it was me. When we made eye contact, I KNEW. This wasn't something I was going to charm my way out of. Mom is a nurse and her face told the story. She wasn't upset about what I had done. I could tell she was profoundly shook.
A side note:
Jake saw me doing a dead-mans float in the water and went into the water and found me passed out and blue. He drug me on shore and freaked out. This got the attention of the people close. Soon the panic spread up the park and everyone raced to the shore to help. There were about 100 people standing around me. This got the attention of Capt Elroy who was going up the channel in his tug. He saw me and beached his tug. He had seen someone do something similar the previous summer so he had the forethought to have a deck hand immobilize my spine so I couldn't do more damage to my spine. I found out later he had my mother paged at every Nordstrom's until he found her and the found my dad at Fort Lewis
I was 20…
ive been getting requests for images
i'm 5'10". blue eyes and overweight.
that's why this picture is old. taken when i was about 25
here's a couple of me trying to hide my double chin and my belly.
i'm 5'10". blue eyes and overweight.
that's why this picture is old. taken when i was about 25
here's a couple of me trying to hide my double chin and my belly.
who are we really. i've told you about my broken neck, a traped cat and that my dick works but needs an instruction manual.
i've been reading your journals and while they are all clever and well written. i'd like to know more
tell me something, something dark, something light, something bright, something not right
i've been reading your journals and while they are all clever and well written. i'd like to know more
tell me something, something dark, something light, something bright, something not right
the gymp fuck storie
When you are in a chair like I am, physical contact is rare. The chair is a divider between you and the rest of humanity. Only little girls without stereotypes ingrained into there innocence, over affectionate aunts and the occasional close friend make it pasts the wheelchairs force field to give the much welcome hug kiss or even hand on shoulder.
Sex... Frustration, agony, dreams unrealized, hope wrapped in torment, love strangled by embarrassment, just a few of the things separating me from cardinal knowledge but occasionally when thing go just right nothing compares. It is these first emotions that must be over come.
Imagine a beautiful young lady sitting across from you at dinner; flashing you smiles touching your arm and flipping her hair as the conversation turns to something more erotic. You begin to realize that she is wearing her good underwear and you are about to get lucky. Any other person would skip the dessert menu, pay the bill and drive this lady to the closest convenient location to get her out of her cloths as quickly as possible.
This doesn't happen because… the sex talk hasn't occurred yet. All this girl knows is that you are somewhat cute, rather charming and she has a bit of a sympathy thing going for you. For her this adds up to… "Ok. This guy is worth a toss". But there is much more she hasn't taken into consideration. Things that would most likely put you out of the running.
On to the bed room; I need help transferring into bed, so the games can only begin once I've transferred. This eliminates spontaneity! I have someone who helps with that at a set time usually the time is worked out 24 hours in advance. I suppose I could transfer in the middle of the day but that would be very conspicuous. Especially because my help would have to leave and come back a few hours later to get me up again. This may raise an eyebrow besides being extremely difficult to set up. The biggest thing is this; I'm not your typical guy who just wants a pretty face to look at while he cums. I can't cum. I can just slightly feel my own dick. I want to take it slow; see every inch of the girl I'm with, feel the texture of her skin against mine. I want to taste her, feel her warmth!!!
Now for the nitty gritty. A condom catheter is taped to my dick and connected to a tube that allows me to pee. Step 1, Remove the condom catheter, and there I am ready for a good time. You would think. Remember that condom catheter had a purpose; to catch and redistribute urine. This is where I hope I didn't drink too much at dinner. Step 2, A little manual stimulation and my reflexes produce a full blown erection. An erection… the only thing below my injury that still works.
The lights finally go down and I relax because if she hasn't left yet all systems are "go." I have a chubby ready for action and a beautiful, understanding woman looking down at me, her hair falling forward tickling my face and shoulders. I try to take this moment in; someone to hold, be next to. In this way I think sex is better than before my injury. The connection you have after such a struggle can be wonderful but many often I don't get over the feeling of embarrassment and inadequacy, I know regardless of the attraction, love and combined feelings she my have for me, sex will never be completely satisfying for either of us in a traditional sense. Good sex is more than a stiff penis. Holding touching moving all play a part and I am very much like a taking blow up doll for her. I can't go down on her, caresses her or make moves.. I have to direct her to move up so I can… you know… I want to… well… lick… "JUST SIT ON MY FACE. Ok." It is even worse in person than reading it here. There is no good way to direct sex. I would like to suck on your nipple, please. It is almost comical, like a game of Simon says.
Like a blind person my body compensates for the lack of feeling in some areas by making others hypersensitive. I have come close to orgasm from the light touches and kisses to my neck. Sucking my nipple has made me lose the ability to speak. I LOVE DEEP FRENCH KISSING. As for what I can do for my lady; I can offer an almost continuous erection. My dick loves nothing better than to be played with and will stay hard as long as it gets attention. I also love to perform oral sex on my partner. Eating pussy provides me a connection to my partner that my dick only previously experienced. I take great pleasure in exploring every fold and nuance of her. Sex is definitely different, but it can be great. Sometimes different is great. It does take playful understanding on her part.
I recently discovered that if I'm forced to keep my head arched back while my partner kisses and licks up the center of my neck over my Adams apple I cam actually have something like an organism. What happens it fucking rocks. Please give me more
Sex usually has a flow or progression. From the flirting - hot heavy kissing and petting - cloths ripping - flesh pounding - relief - cuddling and talking. Most of these things still occur but in a stuttered truncated way. I know I'm not going to climax, so the relief never happens (it kind of does happen, about a half hour after she's asleep and I look down and see her laying there with me, not a climax but a nice large ego boost).
The act of sex for me is scary and embarrassing but at the same time wonderfully fulfilling. When a woman is willing to put up with all that and still decides it is worth it and especially if she comes back for more something happens between us that can't be described. It is a bond that only lovers have but more so somehow. It is more about intimacy and less about explosive passion. As for me, what is it like, what do I feel (physically)? I can't feel hot or cold, wet or dry, sharp or dull. What I feel is pressure but more significantly I feel the pounding pressure, the build up to the climax, the rush of adrenalin and in the cruelest trick Mother Nature has ever played I can't climax. Does that mean I haven't experienced an orgasm since I've been in a chair? Yes!!! It's very much like trying to have sex through a rather thick sleeping bag.
When you are in a chair like I am, physical contact is rare. The chair is a divider between you and the rest of humanity. Only little girls without stereotypes ingrained into there innocence, over affectionate aunts and the occasional close friend make it pasts the wheelchairs force field to give the much welcome hug kiss or even hand on shoulder.
Sex... Frustration, agony, dreams unrealized, hope wrapped in torment, love strangled by embarrassment, just a few of the things separating me from cardinal knowledge but occasionally when thing go just right nothing compares. It is these first emotions that must be over come.
Imagine a beautiful young lady sitting across from you at dinner; flashing you smiles touching your arm and flipping her hair as the conversation turns to something more erotic. You begin to realize that she is wearing her good underwear and you are about to get lucky. Any other person would skip the dessert menu, pay the bill and drive this lady to the closest convenient location to get her out of her cloths as quickly as possible.
This doesn't happen because… the sex talk hasn't occurred yet. All this girl knows is that you are somewhat cute, rather charming and she has a bit of a sympathy thing going for you. For her this adds up to… "Ok. This guy is worth a toss". But there is much more she hasn't taken into consideration. Things that would most likely put you out of the running.
On to the bed room; I need help transferring into bed, so the games can only begin once I've transferred. This eliminates spontaneity! I have someone who helps with that at a set time usually the time is worked out 24 hours in advance. I suppose I could transfer in the middle of the day but that would be very conspicuous. Especially because my help would have to leave and come back a few hours later to get me up again. This may raise an eyebrow besides being extremely difficult to set up. The biggest thing is this; I'm not your typical guy who just wants a pretty face to look at while he cums. I can't cum. I can just slightly feel my own dick. I want to take it slow; see every inch of the girl I'm with, feel the texture of her skin against mine. I want to taste her, feel her warmth!!!
Now for the nitty gritty. A condom catheter is taped to my dick and connected to a tube that allows me to pee. Step 1, Remove the condom catheter, and there I am ready for a good time. You would think. Remember that condom catheter had a purpose; to catch and redistribute urine. This is where I hope I didn't drink too much at dinner. Step 2, A little manual stimulation and my reflexes produce a full blown erection. An erection… the only thing below my injury that still works.
The lights finally go down and I relax because if she hasn't left yet all systems are "go." I have a chubby ready for action and a beautiful, understanding woman looking down at me, her hair falling forward tickling my face and shoulders. I try to take this moment in; someone to hold, be next to. In this way I think sex is better than before my injury. The connection you have after such a struggle can be wonderful but many often I don't get over the feeling of embarrassment and inadequacy, I know regardless of the attraction, love and combined feelings she my have for me, sex will never be completely satisfying for either of us in a traditional sense. Good sex is more than a stiff penis. Holding touching moving all play a part and I am very much like a taking blow up doll for her. I can't go down on her, caresses her or make moves.. I have to direct her to move up so I can… you know… I want to… well… lick… "JUST SIT ON MY FACE. Ok." It is even worse in person than reading it here. There is no good way to direct sex. I would like to suck on your nipple, please. It is almost comical, like a game of Simon says.
Like a blind person my body compensates for the lack of feeling in some areas by making others hypersensitive. I have come close to orgasm from the light touches and kisses to my neck. Sucking my nipple has made me lose the ability to speak. I LOVE DEEP FRENCH KISSING. As for what I can do for my lady; I can offer an almost continuous erection. My dick loves nothing better than to be played with and will stay hard as long as it gets attention. I also love to perform oral sex on my partner. Eating pussy provides me a connection to my partner that my dick only previously experienced. I take great pleasure in exploring every fold and nuance of her. Sex is definitely different, but it can be great. Sometimes different is great. It does take playful understanding on her part.
I recently discovered that if I'm forced to keep my head arched back while my partner kisses and licks up the center of my neck over my Adams apple I cam actually have something like an organism. What happens it fucking rocks. Please give me more
Sex usually has a flow or progression. From the flirting - hot heavy kissing and petting - cloths ripping - flesh pounding - relief - cuddling and talking. Most of these things still occur but in a stuttered truncated way. I know I'm not going to climax, so the relief never happens (it kind of does happen, about a half hour after she's asleep and I look down and see her laying there with me, not a climax but a nice large ego boost).
The act of sex for me is scary and embarrassing but at the same time wonderfully fulfilling. When a woman is willing to put up with all that and still decides it is worth it and especially if she comes back for more something happens between us that can't be described. It is a bond that only lovers have but more so somehow. It is more about intimacy and less about explosive passion. As for me, what is it like, what do I feel (physically)? I can't feel hot or cold, wet or dry, sharp or dull. What I feel is pressure but more significantly I feel the pounding pressure, the build up to the climax, the rush of adrenalin and in the cruelest trick Mother Nature has ever played I can't climax. Does that mean I haven't experienced an orgasm since I've been in a chair? Yes!!! It's very much like trying to have sex through a rather thick sleeping bag.
A Friday in the recent past I took my van out to Hillsboro to work on a computer network. After arriving in Hillsboro and unloading out of my van I left the lift down and side door open. This is just a lazy habit I have developed so I don't have to sit in the elements and wait as the lift on my van folded its self back up. On this day I left the van open for about 3 hours while I worked on the network. After loading back into the van I drove out to Willsonvile where I picked up some computer supplies and ate dinner. This time the door on my van was open for about 2 hours.
The van sat in the parking lot at my apartment for a week before I had a need to use it again. It was Friday again and my friend Tony's birthday. We had plans to go to breakfast at J&M, a favorite spot. When we got into the van we were overwhelmed by an odor that could best be described as cat shit sitting in a warm van for a week. We found the offending pile of crap and relocated it in a more social acceptable place, then proceed to use the best carpet cleaning products we could find at Safeway. We then left the van open for a couple hours to aerate. Three days later I went back out to my van only to find yet another partly crusty pile in the van. This time the smell had grown to include the unmistakable stench of cat piss mixed with the chemical floral smell of anti-pet Carpet Fresh. My only conclusion at this point was that every stray cat within north Portland had found my van and vacated in it. The smell was so bad that when the doors on the van were open and you came within 20 feet it could knock you back a couple paces. Once again we cleaned the van out to the best of our abilities considering we are just mere mortals. Deciding this time that it would be better if we did not leave the van open, and subject to more offences. The decision was made to close the van and let the odors stew, hoping they would dissipate. Two more days passed and it was Wednesday (for those of you who are keeping score it has now been three days shy of two weeks, we have found 2 piles of shit and only God and my van knows how many times it has been pissed on and in) Tony and I were once again going out for some food. When we opened the van there was a steaming pile of shit strategically located right were I park my chair. The kill zone around the van had increased to about 30 feet and had completely over powered all cleaning products we have used. Frustration was beginning to set in. How were cats getting into the van? At one point I thought I must have gotten someone literally pissed off at me and they were putting incontinent cats in my van.
That night (Wednesday) I was laying in bed when I began to think about that movie "Phenomenon" and the part of the movie were John Travolta is frustrated about how rabbits are getting into his garden, even though he keeps building his fence higher and better. He finally comes to the conclusion that the rabbit is stuck inside the garden and can't get out because of the fence.
Could it really be possible that there was a cat trapped in my van for 2 weeks? There was definitely more than one cats worth of excrement in my van over the time period. Where would this animal be getting food and water to re-arm its self. After all there are only so many dead French fries that could have fallen between the seats and there was no source of water. Further why would the cat stay in the van when it had so many opportunities to escape? I put the idea out of my mind and fell asleep.
The next day I was having a dinner party. My sister (Shellie) was the first to arrive and we began to discus my van problems (now commonly referred to as "the cat box") and I told her about my thought that there could be a slim chance there was actually a cat stuck in the van. After a laugh we decided that regardless of how remote the possibility we should search the van. If there was a cat there it couldn't survive much longer. The idea of a decaying cat in my van would be worse than the smell it had already produced. Nearly 8:00 PM we grabbed a flashlight and went out to the van. Shellie opened the back door of the van pulled out some trash lifted the cover of the rear seat directed the flashlight under it.
In a flash of movement and complete confusion Shellie throw the flashlight into the air, screamed, stumbled backwards over herself landing on her ass, and began to chant loudly and quickly "CAT!CAT!CAT!CAT!CAT!" I was dumbstruck and sat slack-jawed watching as Shelly fell onto her back. After regaining our composure we concluded that the cat was indeed alive and was probably starving. This was about the time the flashlight returned to earth. It was clear we had 2 choices; 1. we could try to catch the cat or 2. just chase it out of the van.
Even though this animal had turned the van into a porta-potty we decided that we owed it to the cat to feed it and find its owners. The problem was we had no idea where we picked up the cat. Letting it go in north Portland may not be the nicest thing to do to a cat from the suburbs.
Feeding and watering it seemed to be the next step. It may sound like we were rearming the cat to do more damage but the van was already fowled and we thought it might be easier if not safer to catch the cat if we feed it. At very least it would make us feel better. We placed food and water inside the door and closed it up again.
A couple hours had passed Tony arrived and we had developed a pretty good plan to catch the cat. About 10:00 PM Shellie Tony and I went back to the van armed with a large box. The plan was to put a box inside the van at the base of the seat. Tony would hold the box, Shellie would open the back door and coral the cat into the box. I'm sure you have guessed… all did not go as planned. The cat managed to worm its way between the seat and the box and land on the back seat which we had reclined out flat so it resembled a bed. The cat found itself trapped between Tony inside the van and Shelly and I outside. All I can say is "cripe". I have never laughed so hard.
Those of you who know Tony and how animated he can be will completely understand the rest of the story. The rest of you who don't know Tony, I will try to embellish as much as I can, but it just won't be the same.
The cat spun around saw Tony, spun around saw us, spun around, tried to exit the window with a thud and then repeated the process about 20 more times all in about 2 seconds. Shellie and watched as Tony and the cat FREAKED OUT. Tony was hunched down hovering over the seat because he is too tall to stand upright. His arms outstretched like Jesus at the last supper. Each time the cat would make a rotation on the seat Tonys face and gestures would echo the cats confused run for freedom, Tony's face changing from shock to fear to empathy his arms spreading wide with shock, then gripping his chest with fear and finally reaching out to help the cat. I can't be sure but at one point I think Tony's arm actually separated itself from his body as the emotions and gestures flew past and restarted with each of the cats rotations on the seat. Finally the cat jumped between Shellie and myself and made a brake for freedom. Before Shellie or I could turn to see were the cat had gone it had traveled out of site. Tony could see the cats exit from his perch in the van. As Tony tells it the cat veered toward my building then turned abruptly after finding that it could go no further then headed toward Williams (the main drag in front of my apartment) and was heading north at the speed of light. Tony said it actually passed a car. Every time Tony tells the story of this cat moving out I begin to laugh so had I start to cry.
As for the cat, I think it was black and white but I'm not really sure. The last time we saw the cat, it was heading north. If it maintained its speed and course it probably set a new record for circumnavigating the globe. What about the van? It still stinks. So far we have tried sprayed on chemicals, powered chemicals, vacuuming, washing and every conceivable air freshener. My other sister Amy says it has the distinctive smell of a "vanilla cat piss cookie".
The van sat in the parking lot at my apartment for a week before I had a need to use it again. It was Friday again and my friend Tony's birthday. We had plans to go to breakfast at J&M, a favorite spot. When we got into the van we were overwhelmed by an odor that could best be described as cat shit sitting in a warm van for a week. We found the offending pile of crap and relocated it in a more social acceptable place, then proceed to use the best carpet cleaning products we could find at Safeway. We then left the van open for a couple hours to aerate. Three days later I went back out to my van only to find yet another partly crusty pile in the van. This time the smell had grown to include the unmistakable stench of cat piss mixed with the chemical floral smell of anti-pet Carpet Fresh. My only conclusion at this point was that every stray cat within north Portland had found my van and vacated in it. The smell was so bad that when the doors on the van were open and you came within 20 feet it could knock you back a couple paces. Once again we cleaned the van out to the best of our abilities considering we are just mere mortals. Deciding this time that it would be better if we did not leave the van open, and subject to more offences. The decision was made to close the van and let the odors stew, hoping they would dissipate. Two more days passed and it was Wednesday (for those of you who are keeping score it has now been three days shy of two weeks, we have found 2 piles of shit and only God and my van knows how many times it has been pissed on and in) Tony and I were once again going out for some food. When we opened the van there was a steaming pile of shit strategically located right were I park my chair. The kill zone around the van had increased to about 30 feet and had completely over powered all cleaning products we have used. Frustration was beginning to set in. How were cats getting into the van? At one point I thought I must have gotten someone literally pissed off at me and they were putting incontinent cats in my van.
That night (Wednesday) I was laying in bed when I began to think about that movie "Phenomenon" and the part of the movie were John Travolta is frustrated about how rabbits are getting into his garden, even though he keeps building his fence higher and better. He finally comes to the conclusion that the rabbit is stuck inside the garden and can't get out because of the fence.
Could it really be possible that there was a cat trapped in my van for 2 weeks? There was definitely more than one cats worth of excrement in my van over the time period. Where would this animal be getting food and water to re-arm its self. After all there are only so many dead French fries that could have fallen between the seats and there was no source of water. Further why would the cat stay in the van when it had so many opportunities to escape? I put the idea out of my mind and fell asleep.
The next day I was having a dinner party. My sister (Shellie) was the first to arrive and we began to discus my van problems (now commonly referred to as "the cat box") and I told her about my thought that there could be a slim chance there was actually a cat stuck in the van. After a laugh we decided that regardless of how remote the possibility we should search the van. If there was a cat there it couldn't survive much longer. The idea of a decaying cat in my van would be worse than the smell it had already produced. Nearly 8:00 PM we grabbed a flashlight and went out to the van. Shellie opened the back door of the van pulled out some trash lifted the cover of the rear seat directed the flashlight under it.
In a flash of movement and complete confusion Shellie throw the flashlight into the air, screamed, stumbled backwards over herself landing on her ass, and began to chant loudly and quickly "CAT!CAT!CAT!CAT!CAT!" I was dumbstruck and sat slack-jawed watching as Shelly fell onto her back. After regaining our composure we concluded that the cat was indeed alive and was probably starving. This was about the time the flashlight returned to earth. It was clear we had 2 choices; 1. we could try to catch the cat or 2. just chase it out of the van.
Even though this animal had turned the van into a porta-potty we decided that we owed it to the cat to feed it and find its owners. The problem was we had no idea where we picked up the cat. Letting it go in north Portland may not be the nicest thing to do to a cat from the suburbs.
Feeding and watering it seemed to be the next step. It may sound like we were rearming the cat to do more damage but the van was already fowled and we thought it might be easier if not safer to catch the cat if we feed it. At very least it would make us feel better. We placed food and water inside the door and closed it up again.
A couple hours had passed Tony arrived and we had developed a pretty good plan to catch the cat. About 10:00 PM Shellie Tony and I went back to the van armed with a large box. The plan was to put a box inside the van at the base of the seat. Tony would hold the box, Shellie would open the back door and coral the cat into the box. I'm sure you have guessed… all did not go as planned. The cat managed to worm its way between the seat and the box and land on the back seat which we had reclined out flat so it resembled a bed. The cat found itself trapped between Tony inside the van and Shelly and I outside. All I can say is "cripe". I have never laughed so hard.
Those of you who know Tony and how animated he can be will completely understand the rest of the story. The rest of you who don't know Tony, I will try to embellish as much as I can, but it just won't be the same.
The cat spun around saw Tony, spun around saw us, spun around, tried to exit the window with a thud and then repeated the process about 20 more times all in about 2 seconds. Shellie and watched as Tony and the cat FREAKED OUT. Tony was hunched down hovering over the seat because he is too tall to stand upright. His arms outstretched like Jesus at the last supper. Each time the cat would make a rotation on the seat Tonys face and gestures would echo the cats confused run for freedom, Tony's face changing from shock to fear to empathy his arms spreading wide with shock, then gripping his chest with fear and finally reaching out to help the cat. I can't be sure but at one point I think Tony's arm actually separated itself from his body as the emotions and gestures flew past and restarted with each of the cats rotations on the seat. Finally the cat jumped between Shellie and myself and made a brake for freedom. Before Shellie or I could turn to see were the cat had gone it had traveled out of site. Tony could see the cats exit from his perch in the van. As Tony tells it the cat veered toward my building then turned abruptly after finding that it could go no further then headed toward Williams (the main drag in front of my apartment) and was heading north at the speed of light. Tony said it actually passed a car. Every time Tony tells the story of this cat moving out I begin to laugh so had I start to cry.
As for the cat, I think it was black and white but I'm not really sure. The last time we saw the cat, it was heading north. If it maintained its speed and course it probably set a new record for circumnavigating the globe. What about the van? It still stinks. So far we have tried sprayed on chemicals, powered chemicals, vacuuming, washing and every conceivable air freshener. My other sister Amy says it has the distinctive smell of a "vanilla cat piss cookie".
OCTOBER 2006
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AUGUST 2006
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