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My lovely fuckloafIt was my first day at university and I was at a mixer for freshers in my halls when I found myself staring at a girl. She was worth a stare, straw blond hair neatly tied in a single plait, pale blue eyes set high in a slightly pudgy face above the cutest little nose, and lips parted in a wide smile revealing perfect teeth. However, it would take me a beat or two to notice her most attractive features. I must admit it wasn’t her beauty that had me staring at her, it was that she had neither arms nor legs. During that moment while I was so rudely gazing at her, she happened to glance in my direction.I would learn later that she had been a keen skier when she was younger. When she was sixteen she had been on a winter holiday with her family in the Swiss Alps and, while she had been traversing one of the more difficult slopes, she had been caught in a sudden avalanche. She had been lucky, she would say. A number of holidaymakers had been killed outright. She had lain, stripped of her jacket by the weight of snow, trapped against a stand of trees and unable to move until many hours later harried rescuers had hurried her down the mountain to a helicopter waiting to take her to hospital. There, severely frostbitten, surgeons had been forced to amputate her limbs first at the knee and elbow, and then the remaining parts in a desperate effort to save her life.For now though, I was mortified at lapse in manners. I figured that the only way to salvage the situation was to walk over and introduce myself. Her name was Katherine, and she had just enrolled for a three year degree in geology and engineering. I was also introduced to her full time carer, a sturdy middle aged woman named Patricia who would be living in the same halls as Katherine and assisting her while studied for her diploma. Katherine plainly hated to be so reliant on other people, what I’ll always remember about that meeting was the firm set of her jaw when she told me “I want to do the same things any other girl would do.”—We had no classes for the first week while we got acquainted with a new city and our fellow first year students. Kat was clearly the forgiving sort or simply used to being gawked at because, despite my bad first impression, a couple of days later we were well on the way to being good friends. We lived in the same building, though on different floors, and I would generally go down to her communal kitchen to eat lunch with her and the other girls from her housing unit. We found we had a lot in common, we had the much same taste in music and films and I was delighted to find she also shared my interest in 19th century poetry, something that hard marked me out as a bit weird when I was still in school. I decided the more scholarly atmosphere agreed with me.We spent a lot of time together that first week though only during the daytime. Patricia had strictly contracted hours that she worked, and Kat certainly didn’t want to impose on her to go to the student union with a bunch of drunk, barely coherent students when she would herself be obliged to stay stone sober to carry out her duties. Kat was plainly frustrated by not being able to enjoy the night-life on campus though. “I want to do the same thing any other girl would do” was becoming almost her mantra, she was really trying to grasp some measure of independence from her parents despite her circumstances.I saw in this the possibility to score some major friend points by playing the gallant knight. “Couldn’t I help you out one evening?” I proposed, “It doesn’t seem fair that you shouldn’t be able to come out with the rest of us, when we’re just going down the road to the pub.” Clearly I had no idea what helping her out would entail and she knew it, but she wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity just because her idiot friend had volunteered himself for more work than he realised. “Would you?” she replied with a touch of nonchalance, “I wouldn’t want you not to enjoy yourself on my account.” “Why wouldn’t I enjoy myself when I’m with you?” I quipped, trying for a friendly side glance all the while cringing inwardly for how cheesy I sounded, my eighteen year old self was anything but smooth. She just smiled. —That evening around seven o’clock I knocked on her residence’s outer door. Patricia opened it, and behind her Kat’s wheelchair rolled out of her room, ready to go. Kat had an electric wheelchair that she controlled with movements of her head which gave her a fair measure of mobility, though it was always a good idea to have someone standing by to help her up steep curbs or other tough obstacles. She was wearing a black dress that would have been knee length on a woman who had knees, and I noticed that for the first time since I had met her she was showing a little cleavage. She generally preferred more covering t-shirts and shorts when she dressed for the day, and I soon discovered why as I walked by her side the short distance down the street to student union building. Anyone talking to her from that vantage was more or less obliged to look right down her top. Her breasts weren’t the largest, certainly no bigger than a C cup, but they were very nicely shaped and well supported by the bra I could just see a glimpse of. I was surprised and feeling little bit guilty to find that I was enjoying the view.My first “duty” of the evening came when I had to help her wheelchair over the lip of the door and move a few chairs out of the way so she could reach the table my friends and I were by now accustomed to drinking at. Nestling in at the table, she greeted our mutual friends warmly, while I went to the bar to get us both a drink. I was a fairly typical night for first year students, newly away from home and slightly nervous in each other’s company. The blaring music made conversation a little difficult, but a few drinks later we were merrily bellowing at each other the usual bollocks afyon escort that is spoken on such occasions. I was going easy on the lager this evening though, conscious as I was that this evening I was supposed to be being responsible. Mostly I was quiet, nursing a pint of beer in my right hand and helping Kat drink a succession of sugary cocktails through a straw with my left.Eventually one o’clock rolled around and the bar closed, and us students spilled out on to the street to make our way home, variously drunk. It was scarcely 60 metres back to our building and, even at the pace of Kat’s wheelchair, it was no time at all before we were inside. She told me to grab her key from her purse, and after rummaging among her money, phone and bluetooth headset, I found her keyring and swung the door open. I saw her inside her room which, while spacious compared to mine and having an en suite bathroom adapted to disabled people, was still pretty pokey. Suddenly I was very aware of being alone in a girl’s room at night. I fumbled her keys back in to her purse and set it down on the low desk across from the entrance, mumbled a few words approximating “Good night!” and began took a couple of steps back towards the door. “Hey! Where are you going?” she squeaked, “You promised you’d help me. I can hardly wake Patricia up at this time of night!” “Oh, er, yes of course…” I stammered out, “Erm. Help you how exactly?” “Well, first I desperately need the toilet.” I struggled to control my face.Up until this point I had had the impression she used some sort of discrete catheter bag for that, but evidently not. It was hardly the sort of thing that came up in casual conversation. She must have had a superhuman bladder capacity, I’d been to the loos twice during the evening already. She turned her wheelchair around and disappeared in to the bathroom. Composing myself as best I could, I closed the room’s front door and followed her. She turned back to face me and, seeing that I hadn’t the first idea of how to proceed, took pity on me. “First, you’ll have to take my dress off.” She instructed, mercifully business like. “There’s a zip down the back.” She did her best to lean forward against the waist strap that held her in wheelchair while I haltingly located the zip at the back off her dress. With the zip undone, she simply shrugged her way out of the shoulder straps and the dress unceremoniously fell down around her lower body. She wasn’t wearing any panties, I couldn’t help but notice. As it turns out, when you don’t have a hips per se, panties can be very awkward garments, prone to simply falling off, and Kat by preference tended not to bother with them. She sat naked in her chair except for her plain white bra. There was a pause.Kat broke the silence. “OK, I need to to lift me and place me on the toilet, please.” You probably know that lifting a person isn’t a trivial affair, but most people can help you by shitting there centre of gravity and by putting an arm around your neck. Most people have knees that offer a handy place to support them under. Most people aren’t naked. Let me tell you now, lifting a person who has no arms or legs is no picnic, especially when you’re hyper-concious of where you’re putting your hands. I eventually settled on gripping her on either side of her waist just above the pelvis and hoisting her as firmly as my strength allowed around to the toilet seat. Plainly this treatment was a little painful for her, but she suffered my inexpert handling with nothing more than a slight grimace. I turned my back on her, suddenly very interested in studying the blue tile work. Nice grouting job someone had done in this bathroom. Seeing my embarrassment, she giggled. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, I’m not. After a couple of years of having to rely on other people for everything, you get used to all sorts of people seeing you naked.” She was peeing now, I could hear. “Oh, I’m not embarrassed.” I lied, “Just thought you’d appreciate a bit of privacy at least.” “Very gentlemanly of you, I’m sure. Can you wipe me now, please?” Um. Erk.I took a few squares of toilet paper from the roll and hesitated. “How do I, um…?” I squeaked. “I haven’t… er, that is… I haven’t exactly done this before.” “Oh, just back to front, not too firm.” she instructed me. I swallowed my incipient panic and did my best to follow instructions, even while trying desperately not to touch her labia. This really was more uncomfortably intimate than I was prepared for. My wrist brushed against her untidy pubic hair. I guessed one thing you couldn’t really ask your professional carer for was to trim your bush for you. I dropped the toilet paper in to the bowl. “Is that OK?” “You’re doing fine.” she beamed with a mischievous smile. I think she was enjoying my discomfort. I lifted her back in to her chair, this time taking the liberty of supporting her with one hand under her buttocks, which seemed to go much smoother. She really did have the most wonderful skin, and this time lifting her was something dangerously resembling an embrace.”Can you go get me my big white t-shirt with the heart design, please? It should be on the bed.” I was grateful for any opportunity to leave the room even for a moment, just to recompose myself and steady my heart rate. I made a little show of searching for the shirt, even though it was plainly obvious scrunched up at the foot of the bed. I straightened to t-shirt over my arm and went back to the bathroom. “I usually wear this shirt to bed. Can you help me take my bra off.” Now, at this point in my life I wasn’t too experienced with women, though I wasn’t entirely new to undressing them. I could at least unhook a bra without too much trouble. I leant over her to find the catch and despite the surpassing weirdness of the situation, despite the four pints of beer I’d drunk, my mental associations got the better escort afyon of me. As I pulled her bra away giving me a good look at her small, firm breasts, I found a semi pushing uncomfortably against the fly of my jeans. Damn it, this was no good at all. I couldn’t let my body betray my veneer of outer professionalism. This was business, not pleasure. I just had to hope she hadn’t noticed, but then again who better to notice than someone whose eye level is constantly at crotch height? I quickly scooted around the back of her chair, out of her sight to pull the t-shirt on over her head. Damn, damn, damn.She steered herself out of the bathroom while I lingered, pretending to wash my hands with unnecessary thoroughness, while I got control of myself again. The cold water certainly helped. When I was ready I sauntered back in to the main room with all the studied casualness I could muster. At least she was dressed again now. “Hey!” she greeted me, “I’m not really all that tired. Do you want to stay and watch some TV or something? I still need you too tuck me in to bed later.” I glanced at my watch, it was getting on towards 2AM. Could I gracefully refuse? The evening really had seemed to have energised her, I guessed that being out on her own at night was an entirely new experience for her. I didn’t seem to have much choice. “Sure, why not.” I agreed, trying to sound as enthused as she was.She had parked her chair in it’s usual spot between the bed and the window her desk was under. I picked her up, if not with practised ease at least with some measure of assurance, and set her on the bed, propped up by a pillow so she had a good view of the small TV set on the chest of drawers opposite. I closed the curtains, grabbed the remote and sat down on the bed a measured distance for her. “Any preferences?” I asked, flicking through the TV channels. “Lets just see what’s on, I guess.” The halls of residence didn’t offer anything as luxurious as satellite TV, so we settled on a late night film on Channel 4. Kat settled herself back on the pillow, but her neck caught uncomfortably on her plaited hair which I’d accidentally trapped between her back and the pillow. “Awk. Can you help me with this? I should really take hair bands taken out anyway, my hair gets all frizzy if I leave it overnight.”I freed her hair from behind her back and did my best to release it from the two bands that held it place without pulling on it too much. When I’d unwound her hair I did my best to smooth it out with my hands. It really was wonderful hair, cold and silky, falling most of the way down her back and the colour off ripening wheat. This wasn’t helping my composure. I tried to settle back and watch the film, but I wasn’t having much luck concentrating. I wasn’t the only one. Once or twice I’m sure I caught Kat eyeing me sidelong. She was thinking about something, and I don’t think it was Lauren Bacall’s performance on the screen.We’d passed maybe ten minutes in semi-comfortable silence, when Kat finally gathered her thoughts. “In the bathroom, back then… were you…” she stumbled to halt, it was her turn to be flustered. She’d started now, though by the looks of it perhaps she wished she hadn’t, there was no going back. “… were you, erm…” and here she paused again, searching for an appropriate euphemism. “…excited?” she finally finished lamely, a little embarrassed not to be able to use any stronger words. My mind raced. She had noticed. I knew what she meant of course, but could I plausibly feign ignorance or would forcing her to clarify only make things worse? Could I just deny it outright, or was that tantamount to calling her ugly or, even worse, a freak? This was a verbal minefield she’d dropped me in to. I decided I had to ‘fess up, honesty had to be the best policy here, surely. “Er, yes?” I stammered, intoning it almost as a question. “Sorry…” I trailed off and looked at my shoes. “Don’t apologise.” she said, and turned back to the TV. I thought for a moment she might let the matter drop, leaving me wondering what she was thinking and certainly not wanting to wanted to ask. Suddenly, impulsively, she turned back to me. “Do you want to kiss me?” she grinned impishly. I decided I did.—How do you have a first kiss? Two people embrace, their lips touch, that first magic instant you linger in with just contact before tongues begin their first tentative exploration of each other. But how do you have a first kiss with someone who can’t move anything but their neck? As it turns out, the answer is ‘awkwardly.’ I scootched closer to her on the bed and put my right arm around her waist, then leant in for the kiss. Our height difference meant she was looking up at me, looking like she might get a crick in her neck. Our lips met, our teeth met. Ouch. I pulled back, chagrined. Mercifully, she giggled a little. “Put me on your lap” she suggested, “that’ll probably help.” She was right. I picked her up more firmly than I’d dared before and swung her around on to my lap. This was much better height, and our lips locked more confidently now. My tongue began to discover the excitement of her lips, she tasted faintly of rum and of coconut, she tasted sweet. I broke the kiss after a few moments, pulling her in closer, and began to kiss her collarbone and neck. “I think you’re, hah, excited again.” she breathed in my ear. I certainly was, not just a semi this time but a full, aching erection. This certainly wasn’t anything like how I expected this evening to end.”I want to kiss you again” she whispered, so I slipped her back down my lap a little so we could be face to face again. As we kissed, my hands began to explore beneath her loose fitting t-shirt. As I ran my hand down her spine she hissed with pleasure and gently bit my lower lip. Smoothly, I slid my free hand around and nuzzled the side of her breast where it was pressed against my chest, afyon escort bayan it was glorious. She was in her element now, no trace of the earlier shyness. “Take off your shirt” she commanded, “I want to feel your skin against mine.” Still holding her with one hand, I deftly drew my t-shirt over my head with the other. Her baggy shirt quickly followed suit and we were drawn together, her naked and me wearing only my jeans. I gathered the courage to take the initiative, laying her gently down on the bed I left a trail of kisses and short caresses with my tongue from the where the crease of her armpit would have been across her breast until I gently drew her nipple in to my mouth. She drew breath sharply, exhaling in obvious delight. On her back she was as helpless as a tortoise and I could pleasure her as I liked.She was content simply to lie back and receive my full attention to a few minutes longer, but clearly she valued having control over every aspect of her life which included, as she was discovering, lovemaking. She reasserted herself by gasping “I want to suck you!” She certainly didn’t have to tell me twice, but the logistics of this presented me with a bit of puzzle which I was still working out while I was pulling off my jeans. I’m not the biggest man in the world, but my dick stands ramrod straight and almost six inches long when erect. It was clear that she couldn’t just lie with her face in my lap, she’d choke! By the time I’d finished taking off my boxers, Kat had solved the problem by herself. With her propped up on the edge of the bed with a couple of pillows, I could kneel on the low stool that Kat often used when she was being dressed and slide my cock sidelong in to her mouth. This was the first time anyone had ever had my member in their mouth, and for a moment I just revelled in the warm, wet sensation of it. It took a little trial and error, but with a combination of Kat moving her neck and her tongue, plus a little gentle face fucking on my part, we achieved a pretty damn good blowjob. I moved the first couple of inches of my shaft back and forth over her lips, while she toyed with my uncircumcised head with her tongue. I was panting now, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps. This was better than I ever imagined it would be. While I held her steady with my right hand, my left clumsily began to explore her vulva, already engorged with the excitement of what we were doing. I barely had the strength to move my arm, and I was going weak at the knees, but I did my best to try to rub her labia up around her clit. I could feel how wet she was getting, and I tried to slip a finger inside her as she blew me. I felt a spongy obstruction to my probing, her hymen? If I had been able to reason just at that moment, I suppose it wouldn’t have surprised me. There’s probably not much chance to meet boys, or even to masturbate when you’re stuck in hospital.This was just too much. If I didn’t do something right now, I was going to cum right then and there. I gently extracted my cock, grabbed Kat by the waist and pushed her firmly down on to the bed, then knocking the stool aside with my knees, knelt down on the floor and began to lick her. I pressed my palm in to the thatch of her pubis, now matted almost flat by sweat and vaginal secretions and drew it gently upwards to spread her small labia. I then started to lick around her inner lips, making each lick just tease the very edge of her swollen clit. She was responding now, moaning and trying her best to arch her spine to force her pussy further in to my face. I obliged her, pressing my face down and concentrating more on her clit with every passing moment. After only a little of this, she completely lost control, thrashing her head around and almost shouting in ecstasy. When I finally gave her a break, my entire lower jaw was covered in her juices. When she kissed me, she seemed to revel in tasting herself on my lips.When she finally regained enough of her s**ttered wits to put together a sentence, she whispered to me “Do you have a condom?” “You want to…?” I asked, but I didn’t have to finish the sentence. “I want to do the same things any other girl would do.” she finished for me, steel resolve in her voice. I’d been a boy scout back when I was in school, of course I was prepared. Fishing in my jeans pocket for a condom, I hastily tore open the package and rolled it out over my still-hard cock. I lay her in the middle of the bed and straddled her truncated form. It’s astonishing how easy it is to reach a woman’s vagina when there are no legs to get in the way. I did my best to line my head up with her opening. “Go slowly!” she urged me softly, as if there were any other option considering how excited I still was. I didn’t want to cum in seconds, after all.Gently, I began to push my head in to her tight opening. She gasped a little and her brows drew tight and her eyes closed as if in pain. I pushed a little more firmly now, past her hymen and in to her vagina proper, and she let out a little strangled sob. I wondered if I should stop, but she hadn’t said so, and as if to answer my thought she seemed to clamp down her vaginal muscles tighter on my shaft as if to draw me further inside her. Her firm, warm grip was an invitation I couldn’t refuse, I was only sorry I couldn’t feel her wetness against my skin. I thrust my full length inside her for the first time, and began slowly, rhythmically to thrust my pelvis towards her welcoming canal, it was almost entirely instinctual, my conscious mind was overwhelmed by the sensation. I drew her body up to my chest while I continued to fuck her, I don’t know where I found the strength, and we shared a breathy kiss for a few moments. It couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes before I felt my orgasm explode out of me, the pent up energy of the past hour and half spurting again and again in to the end of the condom, she could feel it and gripped me as tight as she could while spent myself. Then I collapsed next to her, exhausted and pulled her in close to feel our skin touch in languorous, post-coital embrace.She fell asleep in my arms.

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