Crippled Girl Ch. 01byPappageno©
If you are looking for a quick fuck story, this isn't it. It's a love story with explicit sensuality. It takes a while to develop, but if you stick with it, you will find rewards. And don't get all weird about the word "crippled." It is passé, but that is the word India uses to describe her condition.
My name's Tom. I'm a pretty typical college student in some ways, very different in others. I'm 21, a student at a major university in the south. I like to drink beer on the weekends and party. I tried the fraternity thing, but it didn't feel right, but dorm life kind of sucked, too. Finally, I got in this special housing for serious students. Now it's cool.
Let me explain. I'm a dual major in French and International Realtions. I want to join the diplomatic corps when I graduate. Ultimately, I'd love to work in a consulate or the embassy in France. I've been there four times now, and it feels like home. I'm not willing to give up my American citizenship, so I want to be a diplomat in France so I can live there.
So I work really hard during the week, and party hard during the weekend.
But things have changed this year. I spent the summer working at a real job in France with an exchange program through the university. I am pretty fluent now. So, I decided to take my studies really seriously this year. I applied for admittance to live in the serious studies apartments.
Basically, it's a suite of four bedrooms with a common living room and a shared kitchen. They call that a pod. Each building has six pods on three floors, girls on one side and boys on the other. You have to have a 3.75 GPA or better to live there. You sign a contract that you will not play music loud at any time. You agree not to have more than three guests at any given time and only during the specified social times. Overnight guest policy was to be determined among the pod-mates.
I moved in late, just a day before classes started, because I had stayed in France extra time. I was on the second floor. I packed my stuff in quick and figured out my schedule and where I would be going.
The next morning, on my way out the door, I passed this handicapped girl. She had crutches and walked with an odd step. She was dressed in black, but had neon plaid tights on under her shorts. She wore a purple beanie over her jet black hair. She was small framed and short, maybe 5'. Her makeup was dark. She was bitching out loud to herself as I walked by.
"Why the fuck would they put a gimp on the second floor of a building with no elevator? Haven't they heard of the Americans with Disabilities Act? What the fuck?" Then she saw me. "Sorry, didn't know I had an audience."
"No problem. And it is stupid. You gonna complain to the Dean?"
"No. Fuck 'em I'll deal with it."
"Okay, see ya'" and I headed for Comparative Political Systems, 9 am-Noon, Tuesdays and Thursdays.
When I got to French Literature of the Nineteenth Century after lunch, a little late because I had to wait in line at the Quizno's stand in the student center, I sat down at a conference table in the only chair available...next to the crippled girl from my pod. The professor was passing out first-day forms and the syllabus.
"Hey, you're the in-a-hurry-dude from my pod," she said to me.
"Oh, right," I said, "You're the..." and I couldn't figure out the right words to say.
"The gimp-girl on the stairs," she offered. "Yeah that's me. Don't sweat it, I know what I am," she said sort of proudly and pointed to her sticks. "I make everyone uncomfortable. It's okay."
Before I could respond with a suave answer I did not possess, the professor began to speak, saving me. Once he got past the introductory stuff and we began to get into the meat of our subject, it got interesting. We were asked to read aloud. The girl from my pod had a great french accent even though she was a little hesitant.
Tuesday-Thursday classes are long and tiring. You don't do more than two a day, because you are wiped out after the second one. I knew I was going to like Professeur Pappaillé because he truly loved the likes of Hugo, Dumas, Chateaubriand, de Lamartine and Gautier. I also knew this was going to be a lot of hard work.
When we were dismissed, I asked the girl from my pod where she was headed.
"I think I'm just going back to the pod for Ramen noodles and broccoli," she answered. "I'm vegan."
"I don't have any food at the pod yet. I think they just opened an Indian food place in the student center. Want to eat there with me? I'm sure you can get vegan."
"No, that's okay. It takes me forever to get anywhere. You'll die of starvation before we get there. I'll just see you around. Bye" And she clipped-clopped off toward the pod in a very stiff-legged gait.
Wow. I was a loser. I got shut down by a crippled girl. Fuck.
Okay, don't get me wrong. I'm not some wierdo who goes for cripples. She just seemed like an interesting person, and I didn't want to eat alone. I ate alone and still felt kind of weird.
Over the next few weeks, we obviously saw one another in class and talked some. I'd see her in the hall at the pod, since her pod was across the hall from mine. Her name was India ("My parents are un-repentant hippies," she said). And she wore wildly fantastic eye make-up. I mean mascara to make her already long lashes ridiculously long; shimmering, glowing purple, gold, magenta eye shadow; drawn-on lines to elongate her eyes. I didn't get this until I had talked with her a few times. She didn't have a lazy eye, but one was a little slow in following the other. I think she did the makeup to make that less noticeable. But her eyes were huge, and light brown. They weren't like the velvet paintings, but almost. And I don't remember encountering eyes so light brown they bordered on amber.
I started thinking about her a lot. We talked before and after class. I finally got her to stop for a coffee one day. I discovered she had learned her French accent in Brittany, having done a seven-week immersion program in Brest, France the summer before her senior year.
"I was going to go into cosmetology. I didn't think I had the brains for college.Then we got a new French teacher my junior year, Monsieur Hachet. He got me to believe in myself. He got the funding for me to do the program in France. But I had to promise to do rigorous courses my senior year and forgo the vocational training. And I had to take French 4. So, I did, and here I am."
I told her about my time and work in France. She seemed interested. We chatted a little in French. It was cool. But again, she cut it short and clip-clopped away.
And I just couldn't stop thinking about her. She had a great mind, which I loved. But I started to look at her body. She liked low-cut tops, like most girls today. So it was hard not to notice that she had big boobs. I've always been a small-tit guy because they are so perky. But India's tits stood proud. You could often see the lacy bra she wore. It didn't seem to offer a great amount of support, so they stood out naturally. They were certainly a C cup and maybe a D, maybe a 35"? Hard to tell on a tiny girl.
And she had a great ass. Walking with her, I realized the great amount of effort required for her just to walk, so she was toned just because she walked. It was a cute butt that stood high and proud. She often wore tights that showed it off. If she wore undies, they were thong -- no lines.
We shared career goals. I told her about my diplomatic aspirations. She said she wanted to be a college professor.
"I'm learning all this really cool stuff. I understand French grammar and syntax. Hell, I'm taking French phonetics and diction on Mondays and Wednesdays. I'm reading some of humanity's best literature -- in its original language. I can't imagine trying to share all this with stupid fucking high school students. Maybe when I'm older and have more patience, but not now. I don't even have patience for the stupidity of my classmates. I'm going to learn as much about French language, culture and people as I can, get my doctorate, and teach in college. And I am going to spend more time in France."
This girl was cool. I had never met a girl who shared so many of my interests. She liked French movies. She was adventurous with food as long as it didn't involve meat. She had a sharp mind and an ascerbic wit; was somewhat sarcastic but totally logical. She was self-possessed and headstrong. I was really starting to like her. But every time I thought we were getting close, she'd say, "Gotta go," and clip-clopped away.
One night, I had worked late in the language arts library, working on a literary analysis of Victor Hugo's work (as if I am competent to do that). I went to leave and took the decorative stairs that graced each end of the part of the building that housed the library.
There on the stairs, I found India. She was sitting on a step about halfway down. Her sticks were at the bottom. Her backpack was a few steps below with books and papers spread across the stairs. She was crying.
"India! What happened?"
"Nothing, Tom. Just go the fuck away," she said as her mascara ran down her cheeks.
I ignored her. I collected her backpack and things, and went and retreived her sticks. I sat down next to her and said, "Again, what happened?"
She sniffed. "Fucking tip of my cane blew through on these fucking marble stairs and sent me flying. Sonofabitch."
I looked at the tip of one of her canes and saw metal showing through the rubber tip. It was obvious that the metal slid across the marble stair and she went helter-skelter.
"Why the hell didn't you take the elevator?" I asked. It was the wrong thing to say.
"Don't you fucking get it? I never take the elevator. This stupid shit isn't EVER going to defeat me. I WILL win. I can overcome anything. I'll come back and beat these stairs. You watch."
"Fine. Let's go," I said.
"Go ahead," she answered. "It's going to take me a while to slide my ass down these stairs one at a time, then get on my sticks and hobble home. See ya."
I set her backpack behind her, grabbed her sticks under one arm and sat between her knees on the step in front of her. "The fuck you're doing that. Put your arms around my neck. Climb on. We're going back to the pod piggy-back," I responded.
"There is no way in hell this entire campus is going to see the gimp-girl taking a piggy back ride from anyone! Get the fuck away from me!" She whacked me on the back of the head.
I looked over my shoulder at her. "It's eleven at night, not that many people around. It's going to take you an hour or more to get back to the pod on your own. A ride on my shoulders will get you there in five minutes. I don't know about you, but my time is precious. And God forbid the gimp girl should show that she can use help. Everyone needs help, stupid. If it helps you save face, act like it is a boyfriend-girlfriend thing. Act like you like me. Kiss my ear as we cross the quad. Giggle or something. Anyone out there will think we're an item, but that's better than the gimp girl needing help, right?"
She was quiet for a few moments. "I fucking hate your right now. Carry me back to the pod, but I fucking hate you for being right."
She climbed on my back. I'm 5'11" and weigh about 185. I work out so I'm not fat. But still, her weight was nothing. Carrying her sticks was more of an issue than carrying her. She couldn't have weighed a hundred pounds.
I thought we would cross the quad quietly. I was wrong. As soon as India noticed that a group of students noticed us, she whooped and literally spanked me, shouting "Go baby!" It wasn't exactly what I had in mind. Then she squeezed her arms tight around my neck and started biting my ear. I was totally hard by now and having a hard time walking.
"Okay, cool it!" I said.
"Oh, come on. This is fun. We'll be talked about for days!"
"Great! That's exactly what I thought we didn't want."
"If they are talking about the riduculous behavior rather than the ridiculous walk, I'm good."
We arrived at the pod laughing. I instinctively went into mine, and dropped her on the couch, backpack beside her and sticks on the floor.
"That was really fun!" she said. "I thought it would be demeaning, but it was totally cool. It was like your legs were mine, but I had you there for me. Cool!"
"No, India, what's really cool is you," I said as I leaned in and kissed her.
She hesitated at first, then kissed me back, hard. Her tongue found mine before mine found hers. We kissed for what seemed like a long time. Then I ventured to her neck and her ears, kissing, nipping and licking. When I descended to collar bone, she moaned. I risked a hand to her breast as I returned to kissing her full lips. She smiled and I was sure I heard "mmmm" come from her.
After long minutes, she took my face in her hands, looked me directly in the eyes and said, "Pick me up, carry me to your bed, take my clothes off and make love to me."
I was amazed that this independent, sassy, strong-willed woman was willing to make herself so vulnerable. I silently promised to make it the best for her I could. I slipped my arms under her and lifted so that we were face to face. She did her best to wrap her legs around me, her arms around my neck. She kissed my face lightly as I carried her to my room.
"I had no idea being carried could be so sexy," she said. Maybe it was my rock hard dick pressing up against her pussy. I'm just guessing.
I lay her down on my bed, pulled her jacket back and started to unzip her denim bustier. "Wow, easy access," I said, "That's nice." I zipped down to find a bra catch in the front. Again, easy access. "Damn, this is great! I don't have to have a physics degree to make love to a woman."
She guided my mouth toward her now bare nipples and said, "You are such a dumb fuck. The ease of access isn't for you, it's for me. I have CP. Buttons and hooks fuck me up. I'm not trying to make it easy for you to fuck me, I'm trying to make it easy to go out in the morning. But, please continue."
I came up from sucking on the most amazing tits I have ever seen to say, "After I make you cum beyond your wildest dreams with my cock pulsing in your pussy, you'll have to explain this CP thing to me. But for now, we are going to fuck like crazy."
"I'm good with that," she moaned as I stuck two fingers up her pussy and sucked hard on a nipple. As I said, her tits were in the moderate size range, but larger than I usually found exciting, and they stood up proudly on her chest, nipples erect. I spent some time sucking on those great nipples and playing with her clit. then I just couldn't help it. I lost my jeans and jockeys, moved up and rubbed my hard cock head against those hard nipples. They got harder. So did my cock.
India grabbed my cock and pulled it to her and planted a big kiss on it, licked it a little and said, "A kiss for luck and it's on its way. And its way better be toward my pussy."
"Fortunately, it really wants to go there," I answered.
Most girls who are ready for it lay on there back and spread their legs. But India rolled to her side and pulled her top leg up so her knee was even with her belly button. I must have looked confused.
"Laying on my back for any length of time hurts. I'm hoping this lasts a while, so I'm making myself comfortable. Look, you can fuck me like it was dog-style and still pull on my nipples, which I want you to do. So, mount my leg and fuck me hard now!"
I saw just what she meant. I straddled her lower leg, pushed the other one up a little so I could see her wet pussy lips better and pushed my cock head between her wet pussy lips. I eased in, then it got incredibly tight. I pushed my dick harder into her, meeting resistance and wetness both. "Am I hurting you?" I asked. "No just fucking push hard and get in there!" she said. So I did.
My dick slid past her opening and entered a place where it was totally enveloped and wrapped in a tight grip from all sides. I moaned. I pumped in and out of her, and her pussy held tight, not wanting to release me for a moment. My cock felt wrapped in a throbbing, convulsing cocoon.
I pulled her top leg over my shoulder so I could get deeper into her cunt. And I pounded as hard as that tight grip would allow. I roughly grabbed onto those full tits with their hard, long nipples. And I drove my cock as deep inside India as I could. We fucked like that for long minutes.
At first, I rammed it in as quickly in and out as her tight pussy would allow. Then I slowed the pace and teased my cock head to that ridge before plunging back inside. It was so cool to feel up her ass as I fucked her. India was really into it. "Fuck me really hard, touch me everywhere! " And I indulged her.
It's really hard to describe what it was like to be inside her. It was unlike any fuck I had had before. I once had chin splints and the doctor put my leg in a compression sock that applied a tight pressure evenly over my whole calf. Her pussy was like a compression sock on my cock. It squeezed tightly through my entire length. Each time I pulled out, I had to press hard to get back into that tight cocoon that massaged my full length.
This was the longest fuck I had ever had. India peaked several times. I felt her already tight pussy spasm on my cock numerous times as I pushed into and pulled out of that tight orifice. It was like a rolling massage of my cock. But when I felt ready to cum and my cock started to throb, her pussy muscles sealed off my orgasm.
"Back off,big boy," she said. "Give me a minute to move." With some effort, she wrangled her stiff limbs into control so she was on all fours, presenting her wet, dripping pussy lips to me. "This gimp is ready for you to cum up inside her, so fuck my pussy hard!" I pushed into her again, playing with her clit with one finger and her tiny asshole with the other. And she came really hard. I felt her pussy clamp down on my cock head and I couldn't move any more. The rest of her pussy began to vibrate on my cock. Then the orgasm seemed to pass through her whole body. As I held her slim hips against my own, I could see her sweet ass cheeks ripple. It must have waved throughout her body. I've never witnessed such a complete orgasm. I shot my long awaited load deep into her pussy.
After our orgasms had subsided, I lay back on my back, and brought her to lay on her back on top of me, my cock still semi-hard inside her. Her tight muscles brought her knees up, spreading her pussy, so I fingered her clit as my cock softened inside her. She came again a little with tiny shudders and a small sigh.
Somehow, we ended up curled into a ball facing one another and fell asleep.
When I awoke, India's head was nuzzled up under my chin and she had a hand on my slowly hardening cock. I slowly realized I had her perfect ass cheeks cupped in both hands.
I opened my eyes, stroked her purple hair and gave her a little kiss on the nose.
She said, "So, I'm trying to anticipate your response. I'm going for, 'Ohmigod, I fucked the crazy gimp girl! How can I avoid her now?' response. How about it? Am I right?"
"I'm sure that's not it. Give me a sec to gather what is passing for thought in my brain right now." I pulled her close, stroked the pink part of her hair and kissed her on the top of her head.
"My response is, 'What if the most fascinating woman I have ever met, who shared with me the most amazing sex I've ever had, decides I don't measure up to her standards?
What if she is now trying to figure out how to get rid of me?' That's what I'm thinking."
"Well, I just wasn't sure how you would respond. My high school boyfriend went into depression when I dumped him before I left for college. My first boyfriend here liked the sex, but didn't want to be seen on campus with a gimp. And the guy I fucked in France talked so fast, I'm not sure what his deal was. I was just hoping you could handle it all. I'm kind of complicated."