Dual Quads and Gizmo Sex

Bob nodded. "Absolutely! She's a pip. You've got yourself one beautiful lady there. In every way!"

They looked at one another for a minute, then Bob sighed and stood, saying "Time to do some prolonged thinking -- can we run dead slow for a while, and let my brain churn?"

They finished the run in silence, and the talk through showering and getting back to The Monster was rather transparent avoidance-chatter about weights and running shoes and suchlike. The ladies were waiting in the shade. Gisela had shown Jeannie how to get her choice of several liquids from the front door of the fridge -- they didn't mind sharing the built-in straw. Their all-morning intimate conversation had pretty much cemented their friendship, and at quite a deep level.

The men fixed lunch, and the couples swapped husbands for feeding purposes. Both men were on their best behavior and at their most careful and considerate -- if not competing, then at least showing off how well they could do things, because hand-feeding a quad is not necessarily easy even with full cooperation and lots of experience.

The PM plan was for a long walk through the huge arboretum's many wheel-chair friendly wood-plank paths. It was a glorious summer day, the trails were otherwise unpeopled, and for variety the swap continued. That made for new and varied conversations, greatly appreciated all around.

As they strolled along behind the others, from his standing vantage point alternately beside or behind Gisela's chair, Bob had a nearly unobstructed view down the boat-necked blouse that she had insisted Jerry dress her in for the occasion. Jerry had taken exactly no notice whatever of that choice. Male oblivious, it was just another blouse to him. But it had the hoped-for effect on Bob: there was a tattletale bulge in his shorts, and the whole idea of causing such a reaction pleased Gisela mightily. Such an ego-trip! For her part, Jeannie had immediately taken it all in -- blouse and effect -- with a single glance, without a visible flicker of reaction.

A slow mile out, there was a split in the trail -- one fork went inland ("Bird Walk" said the sign), the other continued as "Waterfront Walk". The trails would re-join in about half a mile, according to the map. A gentle disagreement ensued -- birds vs water?

One chair went each way. Whoever got to the junction first would wait there, and there was to be no hurry -- a leisurely stroll, not a footrace.

Halfway round their waterfront leg, Bob had Gisela shut off the chair's motor, and he took over as the power source, guided them off the main path and onto a little landing over the water, set her handbrake. The site was totally secluded, quietly idyllic, with a fine view of the patchy swamp rushes. Two swans --university pets- eyed them from a dozen yards away, unflustered. Far out, several sailboats were heeled well over, thrashing along. Bob squatted comfortably beside the chair, carefully placing himself where Gisela could see his face. They watched the swans watching them.

"My personal favorite place" he told her. "I walk this route whenever I need to clear my brain."

Gisela looked at him for a very long moment, then smiled, craned her neck to scan around them, found only solitude. Then she said softly, "You know, Bob, right now, with just the two of us alone out here, I feel a little like I did on my very first date ever, back when I was a kid and totally inexperienced. Lots of butterflies in my brain. If I could feel my stomach, I'm sure they're down there as well. And look at my heart rate and blood pressure, will you?"

He shifted, moved closer to her to eye the gauges -- pulse 114 -- then replied "Doesn't look too terribly bad, but then you know your body. Is it a bit high? Maybe we should do something -- such as what?"

Gisela tilted her head: "It's high for my body. Not a bad thing, a little elevated heart action now and then is good for me." She locked her eyes on his. "Personally, I think we really ought to do something to keep it elevated for a little while. It would do me a world of good. Would you mind me asking for a bit of a favor?"

Her pulse now showed 121. Bob noticed the change, smiled, and said "You can ask for anything you want. So long as I can decline if I find a reason. Which I seriously doubt. Go!"

Gisela looked at him silently for a couple of beats, then said to herself but aloud "That's what I'm scared of!"

Bob was immediately contrite. "Sorry. I was being cute. You have unrestricted "ask a favor" rights. I mean it. Gisela, I really like you, you're attractive and smart and quick and fun. I'm enjoying your company enormously. You kiss superbly, too. Good combination. So, ask away and I'll provide if I can."

As he waited for the query, without really thinking about what he was doing, Bob extended his big, muscular weight-lifter's hand to stroke her hair. Gisela's sharp intake of breath stopped him: embarrassed at the unplanned physical familiarity, he started to apologize but she shushed him, then said in a barely audible voice "No apologies, Bob. Not necessary. Quads like me, and functional quads like your Jeannie, are such oddballs, so far from the norm in every possible way, that we are entitled to -- hell, really we HAVE to -- develop our own codes and rules for life."

"So -- in keeping with our "tell it like it is" philosophy -- if you wouldn't mind, I'd greatly appreciate and enjoy a serious kiss - with extra added head-stroking. Together they make a much nicer package, don't you think? And I strongly suspect that it would help keep my pulse up for a while. I'd really like that. Very much indeed."

She held her face up, blushing furiously, glowing expectantly, hoping she'd not made a critical faux-pas.

John looked deeply into her. She waited. "A real, serious kiss? That means a lot more than this morning's little exercise. It's a great idea, and dangerous, too. I've been thinking along those lines myself since five minutes after we met. Therefore, beware! Don't ask for what you might not mean to get or be able to handle. Is this a regular part of your interactions with new men-friends?"

He leaned towards her.

She shook her head, whispered "Not only is it not a part of it, in the longest time I've had no new male relationships within which to even THINK about it, much less experiment. And, Sirrah, don't you for a millisecond think I don't know what I'm doing -- or think that I can't handle it. Now KISS me, and please be GOOD! I'm practically a virgin again after all this time -- it'll be just like junior high school, starting up -- but, I suspect, with refinements. God but I love to kiss - it's such a huge part of what little input I have left."

Gently, Bob freed her face completely by lowering the control-halo. He shifted, took her head lovingly, sensually between his hands, letting his fingertips and palms explore the textures and topography as he leaned forward. In ten seconds he confirmed the morning's impression -- for sure she was one of the very best kissers he'd ever encountered, but their mouths were far too busy for him to speak -- he let the kissing say it all. He could use words later.

When they broke at last, he didn't have the chance, or the need, to tell her. Her eyes were teary - brimming, but not running over. She stared at him from too close to focus, bit her lip, and whispered "God! Nobody but Jerry has held my head and kissed me like that since way, way before we were married! You are positively scary, Bob. More, please?"

Thirty seconds into the second kiss she broke it off just long enough to whisper into his mouth "If you don't immediately put your free hand down this blouse, which I wore just for this occasion, and just for this purpose, and down into which you have been staring for the last twenty five minutes, well then I am simply going to have to bite your goddamned tongue off!"

As Bob half-stood, Gisela reminded him "Only my right boob counts in this game, you know."

Inside a wispy lace bra, her breast was rock-hard in his hand. And the nipple! Not to mention the response to his fondling -- a gasped "Don't stop!" and a strangled "Oh, GAWD!"

Then it was a firm command directly into his mouth -- "PINCH AND ROLL!" He did so, matching the intensity to the strident urgency in her tone.

Lips sealed tight together, she inhaled long and deep sucking air in through his nose, past their tangoing tongues, an ultimate level of intimacy. Her neck and head shivered profoundly. She practically engulfed his mouth, inhaled his tongue and then came violently, her body cramping and shaking, head jerking like his cock in crisis, something Bob was utterly unprepared for.

He pulled back sharply. "Everything OKAY?" he asked.

She sucked in another huge, rejuvenating breath, nodded vigorously, finally managed to say "I should have warned you, but I was way too far gone into the hornies. When I'm really, deeply aroused, my body does that without my telling it to do anything. It'll pull away from a pin--prick, too, all by itself. Reflex arcs between nerves and spinal cord aren't affected since they were designed to function without the brain being involved. My lower body can come like crazy if you rub my clit, or even just play with my dead nipple, but I can't feel any of it."

"Amazingly enough, when I come and can feel it, it's all from the one live nipple and boob, plus anything above the shoulders. Anyway, the tit-and-tongue climaxing is nice -- you do that very well, dear man - but even more special is that I can FEEL my body doing all that movement under its own power. Makes for a very heady mixture -- sex and some semblance of body activity semi-controlled from within instead of imposed from without. More kissing now, please. I'm a sponge for kissing, if you haven't noticed. Hope it meets with your approval."

He reassured her on that, moved to where he could put an arm around her shoulders: it changed the angles of attack in a delightful fashion, and added hugely to the intimacy. Afterwards, cheek to cheek, Gisela whispered "Last time I looked, when you were standing up, there was a suspicious bulge in your shorts. Was I seeing things?"

Grinning widely, Bob stood up slowly, turned his crotch towards her face. His hardon was conspicuous.

She looked at it, then up at him and said "Closer." He swayed forward, teasing. She shook her head and repeated. "Closer. Much, much closer. Don't tease, it's not nice. At least, not just now!"

He obeyed and she laid her cheek solidly against it, then nuzzled through the fabric, bit gently, moving slowly along the hidden length, nibbling. He shivered at the touches.

She pulled back, her eyes brimming again, and said to him "Have you any idea how good, how utterly wonderful, it makes me feel to know that I can still do that to a man, turn you on like this? The whole idea of a handsome, studly guy like you meeting me in this condition and finding me sexually attractive and exciting is simply the best possible ego-boost. I don't mean to be corny, but THANK YOU! Now, more kissing is required."

A sly look, then "Unfortunately it has to be mouth-to-mouth only, or we might really get into trouble! But I'm really sorry that it's so complicated for me to reciprocate the real sex touches. I'd love to make you come, too, so you have my most sincere apologies. And a rain-check if you wish. Open date -- somewhere, sometime, somehow, and preferably soon! Truly!"

A minute or two later they broke and she smiled up at him: "All this, by the way, is a first for me. Not that I haven't had the normal daydreams, but nobody except my husband and doctors have touched me for years and years. And the firemen, mustn't forget them! And Marie of course. Much less made me come in half a minute like you just did! It was a truly lovely orgasm, too."

"And don't look so stricken -- Jerry and I long ago gave one another permission to play if the opportunity should ever present itself. Much more likely for him than for me, but I'm perfectly happy to seize an opportunity and indulge myself a wee bit. Why not? Special rules for special situations and all that. Maybe you heard that same song from him also?"

Then, "One more kiss, just for 'thank you', and we'd better be going. It's probably going to take some time for my nips to settle down after all that! And your cock, too. What would Jeannie and Jerry think if they saw you in that condition? Probably just jealous!"

Over on the bird side a similar scenario was rolling in parallel. Jeannie hadn't been out on a long private stroll with anyone but Bob for years -- much less with such a disturbingly attractive and intelligent man -- and found it exciting far beyond reason. But then, reason had nothing to do with it -- there was something positively pheromonal in the cloud of air surrounding Jerry.

She'd been studying how he moved (strong, quick, careful, almost catlike), how he reacted to her. And she liked very much what she saw. He clearly was taken with her, the morning's greeting had proven that beyond any doubt -- and her disability was no impediment whatever, since he was completely at home with it. Half-way round the island, in the midst of a spirited conversation, they rolled to a stop in a hidden little side-trail, a cul-de-sac introduced by an equally-hidden sign that said "Bald Eagle Nest ➔". They peered about, searching, until finally Jeannie spotted it -- one eagle was sitting on the nest, unconcerned with the two silent humans. Jerry squatted beside the chair and they watched in silence for a couple of minutes. The bird ignored them.

Jerry turned his attention from nest to Jeannie. She craned her neck around so that they were face to face and far inside one another's personal space. She was flushed: from her expression, it was perfectly clear that it had nothing to do with air temperature or exertion.

Jerry lifted a hand slowly to her chin: when she said nothing and didn't turn away, he cupped it in his palm and whispered "Permission to get awfully fresh with my new friend?"

She nodded, her heart thundering along, her body getting some sort of messages quite clearly as she went all tropical in her pits. Yes, indeed, permission granted!

It was a long, thorough exploration. Very different technique from Bob's -- and nice in every nuance of those differences. When they surfaced, Jeannie shook her head and muttered "Wow! I had no idea how good that would feel, or how it would make ME feel." She smiled at him and said "Tell you a secret?"

He nodded.

"I'm getting awfully damp between the legs. I'm positively gooey... if I could still seat-dance like I did as a kid, I could squirm my way to heaven right here, right now. This dress'll probably have a wet spot for me to explain to Bob tonight. He'll notice, believe me!"

Jerry looked about: they were totally screened from the main path and had seen nobody else on the walk. He scooted sideways until he was squarely in front of her, raised his free hand to the top of her dress. It was an old--fashioned thing, a relatively high-necked dress-shirtwaist combination with twenty closely--spaced buttons between collar and waist. She liked the style mostly because of the extra fondling she got whenever Bob had to dress her in it.

She looked down at Jerry's hand: the fingertips were on the topmost button. She stared for several seconds, but the fingers stayed motionless. Finally she raised her eyes to meet Jerry's: they were frank, slightly concerned. And very, very aroused.

"Permission again? We need to be careful, Lady Jeannie... careful-careful-careful!! After all, I'm male, and the male tendency is to push and take whatever we can get and consequences be damned. I don't want to do that here, with you, and especially I don't want to spoil what looks like it could become a very special foursome-friendship. Special, and perhaps rather complicated, too, if things so far are any indication!"

She nodded her permission and understanding.

The fingertips began: she could feel every tiny little movement as the buttons were released -- one, two, six, eight, ten. Their tongues were doing a slow, slippery tango: his free hand was still delicately cupping her chin, he could feel the workings of her neck and throat and tongue through his fingertips as well. Lots of her body's involuntary reflexes still worked -- they would likely be the next to go, but right now they could be monumentally pleasant.

Her body took over and shivered violently as the button-hand slipped inside, smoothed the shirtwaist open so that warm sun fell on the tops of her shoulders. Shivered even more violently as the fingertips slipped inside her bra to cup her bosom, first left, then right. The chin hand left for a frolic of its own: she felt it slide down her side, down the top of her thigh, then calf, then it was fingertips on the naked skin below the hem.

They paused there so long that she thought of screaming into his mouth "GO AHEAD!" but it wasn't necessary -- he was just being gentlemanly, giving her plenty of escape room. Room she had no desire to explore or use. She pulled away just momentarily from the kiss and whispered "That other hand could be doing something MUCH more interesting and useful, you know. If you're so inclined. Are you so inclined, Good Sir?"

He was. The hand slid expertly up her inner thigh, applied just the right force to part her inert but sensate legs, slid between them. She was right, he told her with a boyish grin -- she was going to have a wet spot. Seconds later she was gasping into his mouth as wave after wave of climax broke over and through her.

He sensed when she really needed to come down, let her settle, released his hands from their duties, wrapped his arms around her and simply held her for a couple of minutes, stroking and fondling everything he could reach. Finally, when he began to worry about elapsed time, he gently pulled away and told her "Magnificent!"

She shook her head: "But it's unfair that it was only ME. What about YOU? It's private here, we could..."

He grinned broadly, shook his head in time with hers and said "Not a problem, not to worry. I'll live to fight -- or fuck perhaps -- another day. This was all yours. Enjoy it. Just your company is plenty of reciprocity. At least, it is THIS TIME. And, lady, I think our time is about gone, so before our other halves mount a search party we better get straightened up and head on out towards the meeting-platz. Of course, there's always the possibility that they are also preoccupied, isn't there?"

She grinned and nodded, muttered softly "Perhaps so. Symmetry is usually a good thing."

He bent to kiss her: they held it through the entire process of him re-settling her breasts into the bra and buttoning up the shirtwaist.

Ten minutes later they arrived at the junction to find Bob and Gisela already there, parked at one of the wheelchair-accessible tables. Bob waved them over: the ladies settled down side by side. It was clear to everyone that something had happened: a certain level of invisible but sensible fluster was apparent, emanating equally from all four. And it grew, through the trivia that now passed as conversation.

Finally Jerry stood up and said in a lousy British upper-crust accent, "Stilted, this conversation, eh wot? Wonder what that means, I do. Verily I do. Perhaps a drink is in order to lubricate the old larynges?"

He stepped to behind Gisela's chair, opened the little storage pack and took out a bottle of good merlot, four plastic glasses, and two straws for the women. The wine did its slow gentle magic, and soon conversation was flowing much more freely.

Then, well into seconds on wine, Bob suddenly stared across the table at Jeannie, held the stare until she noticed and then asked him "What is it?"