Handicapped Love Ch. 05

In previous stories I've expressed my annoyance about devotees and their way of communicating with disabled people, so It may come as a surprise that occasionally I am active in forums and chat rooms for devotees. Often I call out stupid comments or unreal expectations. I can be harsh and love to ruin unrealistic expectations or blunt stupidity and don't hesitate to point out my own not so appealing limitations. But... on the other hand i am also curious and intrigued.

In those online forums, as a wheelchair bound woman in her thirties I get quite some attention and to be honest most guys are not bad at all and of course i like attention too. But when it comes to my disability beside my lack of being able to walk most men are not interested. I like to make sure they know what bladder and bowel incontinence means, what it does to one's skin and intestines. The infections, pain and nasty discomfort that comes along with it. My thyroid issues which make me hold fat in irregular places and give me bumps and dents like a freak. The restraining water, in mainly my legs and face, that blows up my body and does the rest to my delicate skin.

If by now you are still reading you must be a hard core devotee or just interested in what I have to say. So here comes the actual story. One of the guys in the forum who didn't back up when I revealed my most horrific issues was Martin.

Martin was very honest himself and quickly revealed he was authistic up to a severe level. Person to person he could not talk unless he knew someone for an extended period of time and only online communication was more or less possible on order to have a social life. While chatting it appeared to me he wasn't actually searching for a disabled woman, he just thought disabled women would be more understanding and probably he would have a better chance. One thing was clear, he was, and still is constantly horny.

The fact that he was chatting with a woman made him horny and he usually masturbate in the mean time. To be honest it took a while before I got used to it and at first he just left the chat room without further notice. Everyone else, who would tread me like that I would never ever get in touch with again but Martin was different. At some point we started having voice chat. Martin didn't say hardly anything but my voice was enough to make him crazy and most of the time all I heard from him was moaning and sighing. To my surprise I liked that and more often I checked if he was online and often he was.

Martin is a vulnerable man and I felt I had to protect him for ... well I don't know, false expectations, a wrong look at women, abled or disabled. So I shared my unflattering issues, my pain and depressions but also my longings. But instead of pulling back he opened up about his own issues and our relationship deepened. He told me about his anger and how he wasn't able to control himself. Leaving him often with broken limbs after kicking a wall or anything solid out of frustration. His inability to understand basic physical signals which often left him incontinent or drooling, or enduring pain in an almost inhuman way.

After a few months the unthinkable, for both of us, happened, we decided to have a video call. I prepared my camera to be completely visible. There is not much to see rather than a face anyway because my legs are always in a wheelchair cover, up to my middle and I usually wear a wide blouse, skirt or sweater. From Martin's side only his face was visible in my display.

I saw quite quickly Martin was stroking himself. Not able to react to this, I was silent myself. He didn't expect me to act like a chatroom porn actress, my visible presence was enough for him to touch himself. I liked what I saw. Martin is a handsome man, almost 10 years older than me, with a freckled face and beautiful blue eyes which are hard to fathom. For a few minutes all his senses were concentrated in his penis. My appearance was absorbed to feed blood to his groin. He came intensely, in a way that made me jealous. When he was ready I was afraid he would disconnect but luckily he didn't. He overcame his shame and waited for my reaction. I tried to speak light hearted, not to sound too enthusiastic but honest about the joy that my sheer looks triggered so in him.

Later on we agreed to do a mutual masturbation session. I don't have any feeling down below but i like to use a vibrator, to feel the vibration come up from the downside, the numb part of my body. To caress, stroke and massage my breasts. And fantasize about a man enjoying and using my body and appearance for his sexual pleasure. Martin is handsome to look at which made it even more pleasant and appealing.

With hesitation I showed my privates and my breasts to the camera. Loosen my own fears and taboos and after a long time enjoying my body once again. We did it more often after that first time and I started to get feelings for Martin. I was determined to meet in public although I knew it would take a lot of effort.

We live about 200 km from each other. Martin would not be able to travel that far and obviously for me it would also be a hassle. But there is a good railway connection and a few months ago I took my chance. Martin agreed to pick me up from the railway station and we would have 3 to 4 hours to be together.

I arranged wheelchair help on the arrival train station but as things often come it took a very long time until all necessary aid was available and only an hour later I was outside the station. Martin was no way near and with a disappointing feeling I checked my phone but there was no message. I couldn't reach him myself and I just wheeled toward the city. Suddenly I heard a voice from behind.

"Hi"

"Oh hi, sorry I was late but the train was ... well I couldn't get out ... anyway. Nice to meet you."

Martin was taller than I expected. His back was overly straight which made his shoulders appear backwards. He was nervous, shaking, and didn't know how to properly great. I held out my hand and he took it coming down to my face to kiss my cheek. His other hand touching unintentionally the side of my breast and then within a second touching and feeling my boob out of a sexual reflex. Although it was a very inappropriate behavior at that moment in the middle of the street I laughed. I wasn't in shock, more angry at myself that I didn't see that coming.

"We can't go to my place." Martin said out of nothing.

"Oh, ok, no that is alright. Just wanted to meet you and see you in person. My wheelchair probably want fit in your apartment anyway."

"My mother is home. She doesn't want me to have sex."

"Does she? Did she tell you you shouldn't have sex?"

"No, I don't want to. You are pretty. I would like to be inside you." He said this with the same voice one would ask a stranger for directions.

"Ooookee ... Maybe we should have this conversation in a more private environment!? Shall we have a coffee?"

There was no café where I could fit in with my wheelchair so the big fast food restaurant was the only available option. It wasn't very private either and at first Martin sat down far away, opposite my stretched out legs. I asked to sit closer and for a moment I was afraid he would touch my tits again but luckily he didn't and he just came close and put his hand on my armrest.

"I like your wheelchair. It's big. My cock is hard."

I was happy he didn't need to talk out loud sitting next to me now.

I whispered: "Does my wheelchair do this or do I?"

"Both, I like girls, and I like wheelchairs. I like imperfections."

I certainly had something to offer to Martin in that manner.

He was looking mesmerized, to me, to the way I was laying in my lay down wheelchair. His hormones rushing through his body made him tremble. I felt sorry not to be able to give in to his or my own longings. Martin kissed me. I hadn't been kissed for months and it felt so good!

Suddenly I got a plan. We left the restaurant heading toward the railway station. At the service counter was a woman who helped me earlier that day and was ashamed of the bad service which led to my delay. I asked for the key to the disability restroom and joked that luckily I didn't need any help because my friend was with me.

We went into the restroom and it was big, clean, almost hospital hygienic. I could turn easily but there was no way I could get out of my wheelchair or even take off my leg cover. But that wasn't necessary. Martin climbed on top of me, in my wheelchair. He kissed me and touched me furiously as if he didn't have enough hands to cover his longing for my body. He opened the zipper of my leg cover but without lifting my butt it could not be removed and there was only a brief opening he could stick his hand in. I was wearing a diaper that at that moment was quite filled so there was no luck for him getting close to my vagina.

It didn't bother him though and his hands just went up to my breasts. Holding and squeezing them and it turned him wild. His hips started pumping although he was still fully dressed. My hand went to his crotch trying to open his button and zipper but he was so viciously air-pumping that I didn't manage to open it. Eventually he opened and lowered his trousers himself and a big hairy cock popped out of his pants.

My hands went to his dick. Holding my fingers and thumb like a tube he continued where he stopped a moment ago. Only now pumping his dick in my hands rubbing partly up and down my leg cover. He came loud, screaming, spastic. His cum was all over my leg cover and inside it into the soft padding. He bounced so hard I was afraid my wheelchair would crash down.

I had never experience something like that. Surely we were just improvising and I did have better sex before but never did I feel so good afterwards as I did that day. I cherished the smell of his cum in the fabric of my cover and was proud to exhale the scent of Martins longing.

We still have our online masturbation sessions once in a while. When we do I think back of that day in that bright white-tiled restroom. That explosion of sexual longing of two challenged souls with there own particular feelings that miraculously worked out in a primary individual, narcissistic but respectful way.