Post by mcc2121 on Dec 7, 2013 18:02:18 GMT -5
As I rejoined the site a few months ago I debated on whether to share a few of my wilder stories. But I've decided to give it a go. Other than changing names to protect the kinky, these are 100% TRUE.
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"Shake, Vibrate & Roll"
Part One
You know, there really is no predicting the future. I've found that this is especially the case with my life because as much as I'd like to think I know what to expect month to month or even day to day, the notion that I'd someday find myself in the back of an adult bookstore at 1 AM asking a cross dresserhis...her...their advice on vibrators was just not what I would have predicted a few months earlier, but alas...
Now lets start at the beginning.
It was the beginning of a hot Texas summer. At the time I owned a wine bar in a historic section of town and had my hands full on establishing the business. While, as the owner, there's not much that I didn't do -- manage employees, balance books, inventory and even wait tables -- there was still the irony that I required a PCA to assist me on a few personal day-to-day activities. As a quad with an incomplete SCI, I had managed to lead a fairly independent life. However, mornings and the tasks within were something I still needed assistance with. As it were, I was needing a new PCA and I was totally not looking forward to the process.
When you're hiring someone for any job you have to deal with personalities. This, in and of itself, is not a big thing as I love people. The idea of a "wacky" landscaper or even the overtly religious barber can be mitigated because, hey, it's in small doses. But when you're looking for someone to help you out of bed in the morning, you kinda need to click with that person. I wasn't holding my breath.
I worked with an agency whose job it was to find me a PCA. They called and a few days later we set up a meeting for all of us.
* * * * *
Early one morning I opened the door and in walked two case workers. With them was a tall, slender young woman who at first appeared very understated. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wore conspicuous, but stylish glasses that hid her eyes. Her baggy clothes gave an air of casualness.
Her name was "Julie". She was 19 years old and had just finished her freshman year of college. During the school year she had a job through the university working as a fellow student's PCA in the dorms. She enjoyed it and decided to work during the summer to save money. This meant that she would only be available for the next three months. Though I was hoping to find something of more permanence, I figured it would be fine on a temporary level.
And, after all, she met the #1 qualification: she wasn't crazy.
* * * * *
The following week Julie started. Each morning she would help me out of bed and into my chair. From there I would transfer in and out of a shower chair and ultimately dress, with her assisting me with minor tasks throughout. As for us talking, things were pretty much quiet.
For about a day.
You see, I like to talk. I can talk to a tree. A dead tree. A dead tree that has been ground up and made into a coaster.
And you know what? So could Julie.
Every morning she would come in and fall on the grenade that was waking me up. And she did it like a champ. Now, I know you're thinking "How could that guy ever be anything but charming?" But, man, first thing in the morning, I'm a pill. However, she would sit on the edge of the bed next to me and within minutes we had long-winded dialogs about anything and everything. Yeah, there were conversations about movies, music, etc. But mostly what would bring out the passion was when I would challenge the black and white idealism that 19 year olds love to espouse. You know, young people love to start statements with things like "everyone", "always" and "never". Sure, I was 28 and not that much older, but I knew enough that it's easy to twerk those who love broad-stroked generalities. Things would get heated, but within minutes we would be sharing edgy, dark humor and back to having fun. Remember when I said I wanted someone that I could "click" with? Well, we did.
In spite of all this clicking, I, in all honesty, viewed this relationship to be completely platonic. Yes, she was cute and funny, but a relationship with her just really never crossed my mind. I dated others and Julie was still with her high school boyfriend. However...
...in terms of life philosophies, I don't subscribe to many, but I'm a firm believer in the "When Harry Met Sally: Men and Women Cannot Just Be Friends" Theory. (Granted, you could say she wasn't a "friend", she was an "employee", but after a month that just wasn't the case.) The general idea, for those terrible people who have never seen this movie, is that at some point, no matter how friendly you are or compartmentalized your situation is, it will eventually get awkward. (And, I suppose, if one person is assisting another person who's naked for an hour a day, gee, how could it not.)
At this point there had been occasional flirtatious glances. There was the longing look she gave me when I had discussed a date I had gone on. There is the point that we talked about sex, in general terms...constantly. And, I suppose, in retrospect, her asking to massage my legs every morning could have been a real tipping point, but nothing ever really happened. But things changed the morning we talked in depth about her boyfriend, Tim.
Julie and Tim had dated since their freshman year in high school. They played in a jazz band together and were in many ways best friends. But sexually, she said, he didn't do it for her. After some pressing she admitted that she had never had an orgasm with him. And then the rest of the conversation went something like:
"He doesn't give you an orgasm? Well, I guess that's what your vibrator is for."
"I don't have one."
"What do you mean you don't have one? I thought all women were given vibrators along with their high school diploma."
"Nope. Don't have one."
"Why not??"
"How would I get one? I either live in a dorm or at my parents' house, so I'm not gonna order it through the mail. And I'm NOT going to a porn store!!!"
"Do you want one?"
"Of course I want one!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
* * * * * *
--------------------------------------------------------------
"Shake, Vibrate & Roll"
Part One
You know, there really is no predicting the future. I've found that this is especially the case with my life because as much as I'd like to think I know what to expect month to month or even day to day, the notion that I'd someday find myself in the back of an adult bookstore at 1 AM asking a cross dresser
Now lets start at the beginning.
It was the beginning of a hot Texas summer. At the time I owned a wine bar in a historic section of town and had my hands full on establishing the business. While, as the owner, there's not much that I didn't do -- manage employees, balance books, inventory and even wait tables -- there was still the irony that I required a PCA to assist me on a few personal day-to-day activities. As a quad with an incomplete SCI, I had managed to lead a fairly independent life. However, mornings and the tasks within were something I still needed assistance with. As it were, I was needing a new PCA and I was totally not looking forward to the process.
When you're hiring someone for any job you have to deal with personalities. This, in and of itself, is not a big thing as I love people. The idea of a "wacky" landscaper or even the overtly religious barber can be mitigated because, hey, it's in small doses. But when you're looking for someone to help you out of bed in the morning, you kinda need to click with that person. I wasn't holding my breath.
I worked with an agency whose job it was to find me a PCA. They called and a few days later we set up a meeting for all of us.
* * * * *
Early one morning I opened the door and in walked two case workers. With them was a tall, slender young woman who at first appeared very understated. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wore conspicuous, but stylish glasses that hid her eyes. Her baggy clothes gave an air of casualness.
Her name was "Julie". She was 19 years old and had just finished her freshman year of college. During the school year she had a job through the university working as a fellow student's PCA in the dorms. She enjoyed it and decided to work during the summer to save money. This meant that she would only be available for the next three months. Though I was hoping to find something of more permanence, I figured it would be fine on a temporary level.
And, after all, she met the #1 qualification: she wasn't crazy.
* * * * *
The following week Julie started. Each morning she would help me out of bed and into my chair. From there I would transfer in and out of a shower chair and ultimately dress, with her assisting me with minor tasks throughout. As for us talking, things were pretty much quiet.
For about a day.
You see, I like to talk. I can talk to a tree. A dead tree. A dead tree that has been ground up and made into a coaster.
And you know what? So could Julie.
Every morning she would come in and fall on the grenade that was waking me up. And she did it like a champ. Now, I know you're thinking "How could that guy ever be anything but charming?" But, man, first thing in the morning, I'm a pill. However, she would sit on the edge of the bed next to me and within minutes we had long-winded dialogs about anything and everything. Yeah, there were conversations about movies, music, etc. But mostly what would bring out the passion was when I would challenge the black and white idealism that 19 year olds love to espouse. You know, young people love to start statements with things like "everyone", "always" and "never". Sure, I was 28 and not that much older, but I knew enough that it's easy to twerk those who love broad-stroked generalities. Things would get heated, but within minutes we would be sharing edgy, dark humor and back to having fun. Remember when I said I wanted someone that I could "click" with? Well, we did.
In spite of all this clicking, I, in all honesty, viewed this relationship to be completely platonic. Yes, she was cute and funny, but a relationship with her just really never crossed my mind. I dated others and Julie was still with her high school boyfriend. However...
...in terms of life philosophies, I don't subscribe to many, but I'm a firm believer in the "When Harry Met Sally: Men and Women Cannot Just Be Friends" Theory. (Granted, you could say she wasn't a "friend", she was an "employee", but after a month that just wasn't the case.) The general idea, for those terrible people who have never seen this movie, is that at some point, no matter how friendly you are or compartmentalized your situation is, it will eventually get awkward. (And, I suppose, if one person is assisting another person who's naked for an hour a day, gee, how could it not.)
At this point there had been occasional flirtatious glances. There was the longing look she gave me when I had discussed a date I had gone on. There is the point that we talked about sex, in general terms...constantly. And, I suppose, in retrospect, her asking to massage my legs every morning could have been a real tipping point, but nothing ever really happened. But things changed the morning we talked in depth about her boyfriend, Tim.
Julie and Tim had dated since their freshman year in high school. They played in a jazz band together and were in many ways best friends. But sexually, she said, he didn't do it for her. After some pressing she admitted that she had never had an orgasm with him. And then the rest of the conversation went something like:
"He doesn't give you an orgasm? Well, I guess that's what your vibrator is for."
"I don't have one."
"What do you mean you don't have one? I thought all women were given vibrators along with their high school diploma."
"Nope. Don't have one."
"Why not??"
"How would I get one? I either live in a dorm or at my parents' house, so I'm not gonna order it through the mail. And I'm NOT going to a porn store!!!"
"Do you want one?"
"Of course I want one!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
* * * * * *
