Dual Quads and Gizmo Sex

The Playroom took Jeannie totally by surprise. It was large and brightly lit, with one outer wall of translucent glass block, and two big skylights. There were lots of wall mirrors -- including overhead -- and a wheeled cheval dressing-mirror.

The far end was taken up with a roll-in shower bay ten feet wide and seven deep, with no divider separating it from the main room. Its tile floor extended well out as a splash pan. In the shower area proper was a complex person-sized multi-axis affair with boards and straps: obviously a mechanical engineer's contraption, it looked sturdy and well-built.

Away from the shower area there was a five by ten foot chunk of oak floor abutting a complicated wood wall studded with hooks and other paraphernalia. One major, central feature of the room, utterly unfathomable to Jeannie, was a six-foot long, three-foot deep carpeted shelf, at high-desk distance from the floor. The shelf's outer front two corners were suspended from the ceiling by chromed chain. There was a deep square notch about 30 inches wide in the front edge, and at the back corners of the notch were two chrome poles hanging from the ceiling, their bottom ends attached to the shelf. Off to the side was a set of cabinets, beautiful varnished wood, all doors closed, followed by a professional-level hair and makeup station. A higher-than-usual king bed stood in one corner.

"Some playroom!" Jeannie thought as she peered around, trying to figure things out. Gisela watched, obviously enjoying her puzzlement. Finally Jeannie rolled to face her hostess and said "OK, Gisela -- you've got me. Could I bother you for an explanation? This house is wonderful, but this room is WEIRD!"

Gisela nodded, blushed brightly. That intrigued Jeannie - why the embarrassment? She waited.

Finally Gisela began, but not at all where Jeannie expected. "Can I tell you the whole story? No holds barred? I don't have many people I can talk completely openly with, about some important things. But you and I are in the same boat, and we're both female, so if it's okay..."

Jeannie, her curiosity growing, reassured her -- whatever it was, she could handle it, and would be objective, and would keep it as secret as Gisela desired, if that were a concern.

"Jeannie, when I got hurt, my whole life collapsed instantaneously. That's a lot different from what you've gone through: you at least had some foreknowledge of the changes that would happen, and a gradual onset."

"Anyhow, I went through all the classical "quad" stages -- disbelief, certainty that things weren't permanent, then rage -- GOD but I was angry! -- then despair. Then suicidal depression. All that time, Jerry was wonderful. He let me rant, he arranged things, got the house underway in spite of my nastiness -- he of course knew and accepted the situation from about day three, so he could act intelligently when I could only see red. He kept me interested in my career, enlisted my brother the engineer."

"The suicidal part lasted longest -- and he brought me out of it in the oddest way. He actually built into the house three ways that I can kill myself! They're inconspicuous - disguised really - but they'd be quite effective."

She paused to study Jeannie's expression. "It sounds nuts, but it was exactly the right thing. Because it gave me personal control again over my ultimate destiny -- something that I'd thought was utterly gone. It's a very special thing, knowing absolutely for certain that you can kill yourself any time you wish, without any outside help or advice. Especially without HELP! Absolute freedom in the ultimate way - sort of the theme of the old movie "Whose life is it, anyway?" It snapped me out of my funk, and we were able to get me into positive-thoughts mode... like helping finish the house and design this chair, figuring out how to handle this lump of a body of mine."

"Well, one of the things that we finally got around to discussing was sex -- because we'd had a very active sex-life. We thrashed it out. Laid it out like a debate or a lecture, each of us independently wrote up our thoughts and needs and so forth. Then we cross-checked what we'd each written. Things like how important it was to us both to continue maximum intimacy, especially for him since although he was still perfectly 'normal', I was anything but. My fears about not being able to satisfy him AT ALL, much less totally -- and he had exactly the same thing on HIS list, which was nice beyond belief. 'How to arrange for a full quad to enjoy sex again' was the way he put it in his list."

"We decided that one major goal would be to have the best, most inventive sex life we could manage -- even if at the time we hadn't a clue what that meant. What it meant, of course, was figuring out how I could give him blowjobs -- the only active sex left to me. Fortunately, I was an oral sex nut before all this."

She sighed: "And especially fortunately, for reasons no doctor can explain, I can still feel touches on my upper right chest. Including my whole breast and nipple -- so I have at least one "official", traditional, erogenous zone left. Anyhow, I'd heard that there are a few women who can climax from nipple stimulation and in my simple-minded arrogance I decided 'Why not me, too?' After all, the touches I got when the neuro guys were poking me with needles while mapping out the sensory capabilities of my shoulder and boob were pretty stimulating, and I knew that different cultures have found all sorts of screwball body-bits and modes of touching erotic enough to generate orgasms. Jeez, Jeannie, Victorian Englishmen would come in their trousers at the SIGHT of a bare female ankle!"

What Gisela chose not to reveal at the moment was precisely how that mapping exercise had unfolded -- how it had provided her with the very first little flicker of amusement at her own condition. The memories caused a long, preoccupied pause which Jeannie didn't interrupt.

To do the initial mapping the hospital sent in their newest neurologist -- a stunningly handsome, tall, muscular young man, jet black, with a smoothly tropical accent (Jamaican?) - and absolutely screamingly gay. He was respectful and careful, and handled her well both physically and psychologically. Right up, that is, until he had to expose her shoulder and breast. His touches on her boob were extraordinarily sensuous, but so far as she could tell they were unintentionally so.

She had her eyes closed and was enjoying the touching, telling him yes or no as he moved the stick-pin about. After perhaps ten minutes he paused -- she thought to work on his map of her neuro-anatomy. She opened her eyes and was staring straight into his crotch, wherein resided an absolutely enormous bulge.

She took a leisurely few seconds to inspect the phenomenon, then looked up, grinned, and said "Um... Houston, we have a problem." She giggled. "A BIG problem, in fact!"

He was so obviously embarrassed! She wondered if, under all that melanin, he was blushing? She bet so! A devil inside her pushed mental and emotional buttons, made her wink at him, whisper hoarsely "I'm a deprived little white girl, Doctor. I've never seen a black one in the flesh -- just lots of Mapplethorpe's photos."

He seemed struck dumb, and waxed even more obviously nervous, almost bordering on panic.

She trundled on: "Oh, well, phooey then! But at least you might consider using your teeth or tongue instead of that little needle-thingy. Or perhaps you would care to..." She opened her mouth, licked her lips lewdly -- SO completely out of character for her!

She sniggered silently to herself at the memory of how spectacularly flustered he was: when finally he got his voice going, he managed "Oh, JEEZ, Miss... I don't know WHY the beast is behaving this way! You do have a lovely bosom and I've always wanted one of my own, but I'm your original 125% gay male! And however interested I might be, or my body might be and for God only knows what reason, I couldn't -- my partner would purely have my HIDE!"

Then he grinned at her briefly, said "I'm gonna have to leave you alone for a couple of minutes, Missy. Now don't you be going anywhere whilst I'm gone!" He ducked into the bathroom, emerged in under two minutes with a relieved, sheepish look on his face and a much-reduced trouser-bulge.

They managed another half hour of mapping, after which he left rather abruptly, and she never saw him again -- next day's work was conducted by a 60 year old, deadly-serious female nurse.

But the whole brief experience convinced her of several important things -- she could still flirt; her body could definitely arouse a man (even a GAY one, what a hoot!); she was definitely capable of being deeply interested in sex even in her condition; and she could respond. Someday she would have to tell Jeannie all about it.

"Anyhow, Jeannie..." Gisela said, breaking out of her brief reverie, "... the long and short is, we invented and tried and maneuvered and talked and experimented, until we figured out the mechanics of a quad giving BJs. And until we managed to develop some serious -- and I do mean SERIOUS -- erotic sensitivity in my mouth and throat. We mounted a big program to transfer my erotic center -- it used to be primarily clit of course -- to my mouth. We really worked at it -- even got me hypnotized and a bunch of other stuff."

"And ohboy did it work! Especially the deep--throating -- that's a major part of our sex lives these days." Jeannie looked doubtful, and Gisela explained: "Jeannie, with care and proper timing, we can actively fuck -- I mean really truly fuck - using my throat, not just me using lips and tongue on him -- if we lay my head back over the edge of the bed. It took us some care and lots of training to synchronize my breathing with his stroking, and to teach me not to gag sometimes -- wouldn't want to either suffocate or drown in my own juices!"

Gisela giggled for a second and muttered "Or in HIS juices, either! He can come like a firehose, sometimes, when it's been a couple of days without. But we got it figured out. He says it's a very special sort of orgasm for him, because he has to be especially aware of exactly what he's doing every millisecond. No matter whether he's into spurt and pound phase, he cannot EVER simply let himself go wild or we'd do me some damage. He claims that such a high level of concentration makes the sex into something like a cross between Zen meditation and yoga, with orgasm on top, and that he loves it."

"As for me, well, if he plays with my nipple while we're fucking -- meaning mouth-fucking- at the same time, or even better, if he puts one of our little electric clip-on buzzer-electrodes on it, I can come just fine! It's wonderful. Would you believe that he can actually make ME come most of the time just from the throating? Makes me squirm just to think about it! Talk about transferring sensitivities to a new location!"

Jeannie's blush continued unabated. Gisela misread it entirely -- she thought Jeannie was embarrassed by all these intimate revelations, but she was wrong. The fact was that Jeannie hadn't had such a sexual rush involving a "Not-Bob" male in many years, and now she was having repeated flashes of these two, Gisela and Jerry, together, making love right here in this bed -- and mostly she was wondering what Jerry looked like in the buff! His body looked pretty good in tee-shirt and shorts.

Her already heightened color flared brilliantly when an unexpected image floated past, of herself and Jerry, fully and deliciously flagrante delicto in some only vaguely specified position. Through the rush all Jeannie could manage was a weak little "Oh!"

Gisela kept right on. "My hair and makeup are a lot better now than they ever were before my accident. Jerry used to do makeup for his high-school and college stage troupes, and after the accident he took professional lessons so he could work on me. I'm a very pampered person. Of course, there's the AWFUL quid-pro-quo of blowjobs..." She giggled again briefly. "...actually, we have two different styles of BJ. The throating-over-the-mattress type is pretty strenuous, so - the other way is easier, at least on me. It involves that notch in the shelf."

Gisela wheeled herself smoothly into the notch, moved forward until her chin hovered about eight inches above the notch's back edge.

"This whole arrangement is to put ME in control of HIS pleasure, a turn-around from the roles we usually have. That topsy-turvy is an amazingly erotic and powerful thing!"

She grinned at Jeannie's expression, intuited what her new friend might be thinking about. "You have my permission to visualize him naked, doing his yoga over there on the wood floor. Naked yoga! It's a real hoot to roll over to him when he's standing on his head or doing something else that really requires concentration, and play with him with my mouth -- distracts him no end. I've even made him come -just once- while he was in a head-stand, so his powers of concentration are pretty darned good."

"Anyhow, after a little while we usually wind up over here at The Notch. Sometimes we even talk in public about "meeting at The Notch" like it's a bar or something. He jumps up here on the shelf -- it's great fun to watch his hardon bounce! -- then does a really deep oriental-style squat in front of me on the shelf, with his cock sticking out and his knees behind the vertical chrome posts. The posts keep him from thrusting at me, since I can't dodge or duck and men tend to get carried away with things... and they also give him something to hang on to while my mouth does ITS thing on HIS thing. It puts him into a position of maximum tension and helps him come hard. You should SEE the way his runner's-legs muscles knot up when I do things just right."

Jeannie swallowed silently, thinking to herself that Oh, YES indeedy, yes, perhaps she should!? This particular dream-imagery wasn't the least bit vague about positions! The thought didn't help with her coloring, which ratcheted up another shade. Gisela gave no sign she noticed -- but she DID notice, and was sure she understood.

"And occasionally, just for extra fun, we take some of our electrical toys -- they're in the cabinets over there -- and use them on him. He's developed some pretty amazing "transferred erotic zones" of his own, in his bottom and his nipples, since we started our training. We have motorized electric dildos that stroke and rotate and vibrate, and electric shock-toys, all set up so that once he's on them, well, then, Little Old ME is in control, with this mouth-joystick. I can change intensity and speed and all the other pleasure parameters in ways he can't possibly anticipate, and I can get him all wound up tight and hold him just on the edge of coming for as long as I want. He turns such a wonderful mottled red when he's dancing on the edge!"

"The mirrors are because we love to watch ourselves. Auto-voyeurism forever! We do spend a lot of our time together in here. In spite of all our problems -- maybe really BECAUSE of them - I suspect we have a much more enthusiastic, active and inventive sex life than most couples our age who've been married as long as we."

Gisela pulled back from the shelf and faced Jeannie again. "There are other things, too. See the gizmo in the shower?"

Jeannie turned, studied the device.

"That thing is a shower-board DELUXE my dear. We strap me onto it, and he can rotate me in three dimensions, and really bathe me -- and shampoo my hair, which is glorious! The leg-boards are individual and on little pivots, so he can set me up with my legs apart -- for washing, or for as much access as needed for other things. Including plain old fucking in the warm rain if we want it. I suspect YOU would especially love it, since you've got all your sensory nerves still working. Even just the little bit that I can feel -- slippery warm soapy water and fingers on my head and neck and one boob -- is pretty nifty."

There was a very long pause before Gisela finally asked, "So, Jeannie -- I've been talking an awful lot, it should be your turn. Satisfy my curiosity a bit. Or tell me to shut up if you wish. How about you and Mr Bob?" She paused, then hurried on: "Don't let my hyper frankness force you, Jeannie. I know it could be a drag, but I haven't anyone else to talk with about this. Or to brag a little. But, well, after all, I am nearly a stranger so if you aren't up to talking about such stuff with me, I'd understand. And I won't be upset, either. Promise!"

Jeannie decided to confide: she, too, had nobody like herself with whom she could discuss all these things, and Walkers of either gender, peering briefly into a quad's skewed universe from outside, simply didn't understand. They couldn't understand.

Jeannie finally shrugged, grinned and said "We do pretty well, I think. Different from you two -- very! Much easier for us, especially for me than for you. He likes to take care of me -- both physically and sexually. Since I can still feel everything just fine, well, I can come pretty easily from having him go down on me, or from fingers or fucking. None of those responses has really changed."

"In some other ways, you and I are a lot alike. My hubby, Bob, is really strong -- he does lots of weightlifting, and we have some equipment in our bedroom -- sort of like you two and Jerry's yoga in here. Just like you and your man, I like to watch him doing his workout -- it is IMMENSELY sexy and gets me just unbelievably hot. Probably a lot of Pavlov in there, don't you suppose? Just like you and Jerry, I like to tease him a little when he's working out, but have to be careful not to make him drop a 250 pound barbell or do something equally dumb."

"Anyway, because he's so strong and I'm not very heavy, he can just pretzel me into whatever position we choose -- of course it can be awkward trying to hold me there while he does his thing -- I mean, while he does OUR THINGS -- but we have some favorites and we manage pretty well. We had a strong and very good sex-life ourselves right from the very start -- our first date was INCREDIBLE -- I was still capable of getting out of the chair for a while, so we could pretend things were "near-normal".

"I was a virgin, of course, I told him so, and he was SO worried that he was taking advantage of poor little me on my arm-crutches, but all the while in my little peanut brain I had decided -in the first ten minutes with him- that he was going to teach me to fuck! I wonder, who took advantage of whom? Who cares?"

"So, as I deteriorated, we did what you two did and decided not to let sex slide. It's a HUGE part of our life. Of course..." She paused -- Gisela's turn to wait. "Of course, who knows how satisfied any man actually is with any woman? What are they going to tell you if you ask? Duh! So we... I mean, so I... well, we have this understanding that he can -- if he wants to -- have other women in his sex life. But only sex. For variety and extra relief and all that -- the "male needs" concept. No blue-balls allowed. At least, in theory."

"And outsiders only as flings, not long-term relationships. And if he does go flinging, he's not to let me know -- I wouldn't want to face that. Him going off flinging would be just marginally okay, but only if I DON'T know. And if he DOES, it better not be with anyone I know personally!"

Gisela nodded, then asked the obvious question "And? Has he? Does he?"

Jeannie shook her head no: "Nope. Not yet, at least not that I've had any hint of. I don't ask, though. How about you and Jerry?"

Gisela did a facial shrug with her eyebrows and forehead: "Likewise -- tacit permission from me, the no-tell rule applies if and when... but there's no evidence to date. It'll happen sometime, I'm sure, and I expect I'll know it but I'll never ever ask or let myself be upset."