My first time writing a little erotic fiction - go easy on m
Jan 17, 2020 5:26:33 GMT -5
via mobile
myrrh and pam like this
Post by Deleted on Jan 17, 2020 5:26:33 GMT -5
The rules on what can be posted are a little vague. If this is too much, delete accordingly
Forward: this is from the point of view from someone with Cerebral Palsy - me specifically. It is really rough around the edges.
Here goes.
She was someone I met at a coffee shop, not your stereotypical "glance over at another table and see the love of your life" but someone I'd joked with over the counter.
I'd always try and strike up a conversation, in a sense it was a way for me to make a good first impression, and dispel any notion that my mental state was as impaired as my physical. She seemed engaged, though I'd often go with the assumption she just wanted to humour me.
Several coffee visits later, and however many dollars lighter my bank account felt the lady from across the counter brought my coffee and cake over, but this time with a note. I thought nothing of it. It was bound to be a "staff survey" or a "how did we do?" Or even a 5% off of your next purchase. I'd have gladly taken that…
Unravelling the note from a receipt, I soon realised this wasn't the loyal customer discount I felt I was owed, nor was it an online survey for me to ignore; this was a phone number.
It's a good job I found the crudely drawn smiley face on there to be somewhat charming, though honestly. I'm disabled, and I could have done better. No, that's harsh… at least she can carry a drink… that's more than I can do. Imagine the feeling of being on a swaying boat… you know, where all the furniture moves left and right? That's me attempting to carry a hot drink…
I initially txt'd the number, somewhat scared of who might be at the other end. I'm a paranoid person who only ever likes to be the subject of his own jokes.
The rest is history.
I'm laying next to her. Her short red dyed hair, slightly obscuring her eyes. It's been an incredible day.
A stroll across the beach was painful for me. My ankles were giving way as the muscles tried and failed desperately to compensate for uneven ground.
Before we'd even got to the beach, a slight but long descent meant my knees were suffering. When we finally made it to even ground, I gained a sort of second wind, though I shuddered on the inside at the thought of having to climb back up the slope.
As I look at her, I'm in pain, I'm happy, because I pushed myself further than usual. I didn't want to slow her down. It was our weekend away, hers as much as mine. She stares deeply into my eyes and whispers "I'm going to make you feel better"
She suddenly sprang to life, grabbed her bag and pulled out a random assortment of what she described as "massage oils" I just went along with it..
Starting at my ankles, she slathered me in oil and gently massaged me. She'd stop occasionally, looking concerned as I tensed up. Some of these muscles hated me right now… the slightest touch would mean searing pain.
Though the massage helped somewhat, she could still see I was struggling. We chatted, and she asked why I didn't tell her to slow down, or stop for a break. I explained that I didn't want to slow her down. She got angry with me, and left the bedroom.
I could hear moving about and general noise coming from the connecting room. Any other time I would have chased her, but there's no way I could get up in the condition I was in.
A few moments later she re-enters the room… this is different though. Dressed in black Lacey panties and a sheer bra, she simply said "we've got to take your mind off of that pain" she was quick to remind me that she was mad at me, and that I'll be spending extra time pleasing her.
She started by kissing me on the neck, and telling me how strong I am. I don't usually take the generic inspirational compliment, but when you can feel the passion against your neck, the deep longing breaths and occasionally nibble from sharp teeth.. the nice words take on a more real meaning.
Her fingers traced my old surgery scars, her body pushed up against my weaker left side. "I love you!" She exclaimed through panting breath. She grabbed ahold of my left hand, and guided it across her body. From her neck to her breasts, and down to her stomach. There was a pause when she looked at me. She pulled open her Lacey panties slightly and pushed my hand inside. I could feel how wet she was, how much she wanted me, how much I meant to her.
My left side is unresponsive. I don't have the control that I have over my right side, so I was worried about the idea of pleasuring her with my left hand. As soon as the worry had entered my mind, she gasped and said "you feel so good" she just might be reading my mind.
As she moaned through pleasure I soon realised how I would be pleasing her… how she intended to get her own back on me for making her feel bad.
She slipped off her panties, revealing to me what I could already feel.. she was wet.. very very wet. I couldn't really move through aching muscles and pain, and when I tried, she sternly told me to stay still. At first I wondered what she was doing as she seemingly climbed above me. And then it clicked… she wanted me to lick her pussy.
I really didn't want to let her down, she was angry at me, she cared so deeply about me, I needed to make her know I loved her. I stuck my tongue out and proceeded to lap at her clit. Her moans were so loud, she definitely approved. I was using every last bit of energy I had left. My mind was finally off of the pain, and focused purely on licking my beautiful partners pussy. She was loving it, I was loving it, as she began to tremble I realised how lucky I am, her higher pitched moan of her orgasm signalling that even a broken battered & tired me, was everything she wanted.
"Please be careful next time we go away" she said in an exsasperated breath. I made her that promise.
Forward: this is from the point of view from someone with Cerebral Palsy - me specifically. It is really rough around the edges.
Here goes.
She was someone I met at a coffee shop, not your stereotypical "glance over at another table and see the love of your life" but someone I'd joked with over the counter.
I'd always try and strike up a conversation, in a sense it was a way for me to make a good first impression, and dispel any notion that my mental state was as impaired as my physical. She seemed engaged, though I'd often go with the assumption she just wanted to humour me.
Several coffee visits later, and however many dollars lighter my bank account felt the lady from across the counter brought my coffee and cake over, but this time with a note. I thought nothing of it. It was bound to be a "staff survey" or a "how did we do?" Or even a 5% off of your next purchase. I'd have gladly taken that…
Unravelling the note from a receipt, I soon realised this wasn't the loyal customer discount I felt I was owed, nor was it an online survey for me to ignore; this was a phone number.
It's a good job I found the crudely drawn smiley face on there to be somewhat charming, though honestly. I'm disabled, and I could have done better. No, that's harsh… at least she can carry a drink… that's more than I can do. Imagine the feeling of being on a swaying boat… you know, where all the furniture moves left and right? That's me attempting to carry a hot drink…
I initially txt'd the number, somewhat scared of who might be at the other end. I'm a paranoid person who only ever likes to be the subject of his own jokes.
The rest is history.
I'm laying next to her. Her short red dyed hair, slightly obscuring her eyes. It's been an incredible day.
A stroll across the beach was painful for me. My ankles were giving way as the muscles tried and failed desperately to compensate for uneven ground.
Before we'd even got to the beach, a slight but long descent meant my knees were suffering. When we finally made it to even ground, I gained a sort of second wind, though I shuddered on the inside at the thought of having to climb back up the slope.
As I look at her, I'm in pain, I'm happy, because I pushed myself further than usual. I didn't want to slow her down. It was our weekend away, hers as much as mine. She stares deeply into my eyes and whispers "I'm going to make you feel better"
She suddenly sprang to life, grabbed her bag and pulled out a random assortment of what she described as "massage oils" I just went along with it..
Starting at my ankles, she slathered me in oil and gently massaged me. She'd stop occasionally, looking concerned as I tensed up. Some of these muscles hated me right now… the slightest touch would mean searing pain.
Though the massage helped somewhat, she could still see I was struggling. We chatted, and she asked why I didn't tell her to slow down, or stop for a break. I explained that I didn't want to slow her down. She got angry with me, and left the bedroom.
I could hear moving about and general noise coming from the connecting room. Any other time I would have chased her, but there's no way I could get up in the condition I was in.
A few moments later she re-enters the room… this is different though. Dressed in black Lacey panties and a sheer bra, she simply said "we've got to take your mind off of that pain" she was quick to remind me that she was mad at me, and that I'll be spending extra time pleasing her.
She started by kissing me on the neck, and telling me how strong I am. I don't usually take the generic inspirational compliment, but when you can feel the passion against your neck, the deep longing breaths and occasionally nibble from sharp teeth.. the nice words take on a more real meaning.
Her fingers traced my old surgery scars, her body pushed up against my weaker left side. "I love you!" She exclaimed through panting breath. She grabbed ahold of my left hand, and guided it across her body. From her neck to her breasts, and down to her stomach. There was a pause when she looked at me. She pulled open her Lacey panties slightly and pushed my hand inside. I could feel how wet she was, how much she wanted me, how much I meant to her.
My left side is unresponsive. I don't have the control that I have over my right side, so I was worried about the idea of pleasuring her with my left hand. As soon as the worry had entered my mind, she gasped and said "you feel so good" she just might be reading my mind.
As she moaned through pleasure I soon realised how I would be pleasing her… how she intended to get her own back on me for making her feel bad.
She slipped off her panties, revealing to me what I could already feel.. she was wet.. very very wet. I couldn't really move through aching muscles and pain, and when I tried, she sternly told me to stay still. At first I wondered what she was doing as she seemingly climbed above me. And then it clicked… she wanted me to lick her pussy.
I really didn't want to let her down, she was angry at me, she cared so deeply about me, I needed to make her know I loved her. I stuck my tongue out and proceeded to lap at her clit. Her moans were so loud, she definitely approved. I was using every last bit of energy I had left. My mind was finally off of the pain, and focused purely on licking my beautiful partners pussy. She was loving it, I was loving it, as she began to tremble I realised how lucky I am, her higher pitched moan of her orgasm signalling that even a broken battered & tired me, was everything she wanted.
"Please be careful next time we go away" she said in an exsasperated breath. I made her that promise.
