Wendy 01

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Hello,

After quite a while, I’m coming to you with a new stuff 🙂

In this story I’m using a concept of (as I call it) “mentally induced orgasm”, but honestly, I’m not sure if it could work like that in reality. Let me know your opinion in comments, or if you, maybe ;-), have a first hand experience with something similar, let us all know.

There’s gonna be a sequel to the story, basically about things that happened the next day, plus some resolution. I’m, let’s say, half through it, however, it will take time to get it to the state good enough for publishing. That’s why I decided to publish the first part now, already. Please, enjoy…

WENDY, part 1

The party was over. I joined Wendy as she accompanied the last guest to the door. Well, it wasn’t the very last guest in Wendy’s apartment, actually. The very last one was me. I was not living there anymore, and sometimes I seemed to forget about the fact.

We said our good-byes to Pierre, and I closed the door behind him. Wendy had already turned the wheelchair, and started wheeling herself back to the living room. I followed, watching short pale-blond hair flail above the bared neck. Strong arms protruding from short sleeves of the T-shirt pushed wheel rims energetically, as she had to fight the resistance of rubber wheels rolling over the carpet.

I never understood why she hadn’t disposed all those carpets and didn’t swap them for a simple hard-surfaced floor. It would have made her wheeling much easier. I had told it to her several times, but she always rejected the idea. I knew she liked carpets very much before the accident, and now, after having been paralyzed in a terrific car crash, she often preferred to move around the apartment by crawling, or just dragging her body along.

Ok, I could understand carpets might feel better to her hands when she pushed herself around. But still, they must have slowed her down, since the big part of the body, which hadn’t been cooperating with her brain anymore, simply didn’t slide over them easily. Not to mention minor bruises and burns that she kept getting from them occasionally. Despite it all, Wendy insisted on having carpets in the entire apartment, except for the bathroom and the kitchen.

We reached the living room, and I looked at the mess that remained after the party. The table was full of dirty plates, cups and glasses, some toppled over with their aromatic content spilled around, forming all sorts of sticky poodles, rumpled pieces of different kinds of paper, meal rests, breadcrumbs, empty bottles… The floor was covered with casually tossed pillows and cushions.

“I’m going to help you clean up and then I’ll be going too,” I said to Wendy, who was trying to navigate the wheelchair through the mess on the floor. She reached the table, eventually, grabbed the TV remote and turned the screen off. Then she looked at me.

“Don’t you want to stay overnight?” she asked.

“You think it’s a good idea?” I answered with a question of my own.

“Well… you can help me with something else too,” she said simply. Before I could read anything from her face, she lowered the head and started to seek the path back.

I didn’t need more reasoning. If Wendy needed a help – any help for that matter – I was more than ready to oblige. I still had a crush on her and had been missing the time we’d spent together, badly.

“Ok then,” I agreed. “I can stay and I’ll gladly help you with anything.”

“Thank you, Marc,” Wendy said as she approached the place where I was standing by the door of the living room. “I think this can wait until tomorrow morning,” she stopped and pointed to the room with her thumb.

“I would like you to help me with something else,” she looked up at me sheepishly. Then she gestured she would like to move on, towards the hall. “Excuse me…”

I stepped aside to get out of the way, and she passed by, wheeling herself through the doorframe. Two more pushes and she held the rim of the right-hand wheel firmly to stop it from spinning, which made the wheelchair turn to the right, sharply. Wendy leaned forward and opened the door.

“I need you to help me in the bathroom,” she said without looking at me. Then she straightened up again, and pushed herself inside, switching the lights on as soon as she was in.

“My pleasure,” I said more to myself than to her, and rushed after my friend that had disappeared inside the room.

When I reached the door, Wendy was already turned around, and was backing the wheelchair toward the opposite wall. In the corner by my right hand was a sink with a big mirror set right above the edge of it. In the farer corner on the right was a walk-in shower, and on the left was the toilet facing towards the shower. Across the whole back wall ran a shiny chrome handrail that looked very solid. Another parallel handrails protruded from sidewalls. These were removable and ran only a short distance beside the toilet on the left and across the shower on the right. Wendy was currently backing right into the generous space between them.

When wheels of the wheelchair bumped Ankara escort to the wall softly, she stopped and looked at me. “Sorry, I’m tired like a log. I would really appreciate your help here.”

“No problem, Wendy, I’m here for you,” I said tenderly, and my heart melted at seeing her exhausted like this. I walked to her and knelt down. We did it many times before, so I knew what to do.

Wendy took a firm hold of wheels, and raised herself up on arms. The bottom hung only a centimeter, or two, above the seat. I quickly slid her jogging pants over the lovely buttocks. I tore apart the adult diaper she was wearing, and pulled it out from under her. Wendy let her – now naked – bottom fell onto the seat abruptly, and I watched, mesmerized, how the supple muscles of her ass sort-of spilled to both sides, disfiguring her otherwise beautiful hips. It was something that never failed to amaze me.

I opened the torn diaper for Wendy to inspect, and she murmured something in approval. I then disposed it to the nearby trash bin. Then I got back to Wendy’s jogging pants, and pulled them down her toneless thighs, atrophies muscles jiggling under the soft skin in the process. Then I pulled them over knees that protruded a bit unnaturally from her limp legs.

In the meantime, Wendy pulled her T-shirt over the head, and tossed it to the floor. This had brought to the display her beautifully rounded, and a bit over-sized belly that I adored so much and she hated the more. It was of perfectly round shape, like a ball, and started right below the line where her beautiful breasts were hanging, trapped inside the bra.

I took one limp foot from the wheelchair legrest, and peeled off the warm, thick white sock. Still holding the slightly swollen and soft foot in my palm, I used the other hand to pull the leg of jogging pants past the calf, over the ankle, and off the foot. Then I placed the lovely foot with curled toes gently back on the footrest, and repeated the process with the other foot. Finally, I tossed the pants on the floor, close to Wendy’s T-shirt.

In the meanwhile, Wendy had reached behind her back, unclasped the bra, and let straps fall from her shoulders. Then she pulled the loose bra from under her breasts, and tossed it to the floor too. Wendy’s huge boobs, now free of the external support, dropped heavily. Thanks to their surprising firmness, they didn’t really sagged that much. They just came to the contact with the top of Wendy’s rounded belly, and stayed there, resting on it lightly. This was a sight that has always sent me over the roof: two magnificent, white, soft orbs with dark pink areolas, and small pert nipples, resting casually on top of the nicely rounded, almost like early pregnant, flawless belly with the belly button proudly sitting right in the middle of it.

Wendy didn’t let me enjoy the view too long. “Marc, hand me my cath bag, please,” she requested.

I stood up and looked around, unable to quickly recall where she had usually stored it. Finally, I found it on the shelf and grabbed it. When I turned to Wendy again, she was just manoeuvring the wheelchair, trying to set it facing the toilet. After a short while, she was satisfied with the position, and applied brakes. She scooted herself forward in the seat, grabbed the right leg under the knee, raised it up and placed the flaccid foot on the small stool beside the toilet, the knee casually propped up against the handrail. I handed her the cath bag.

“Thanks!” she said heartedly. “You can strip off yourself too,” she suggested.

I knew she didn’t feel comfortable when I watched her doing the urine routine. She never really sent me out, but she would always try to keep me busy with something else when we were in the bathroom together, and she needed to cath herself. I respected her wish, and undressed myself without paying attention to what she was doing with all those tubes, bags, disinfection liquids, and things like that. I knew she was done when I heard the water flush. Wendy threw some items in the trash bin and looked at me.

She gazed over my naked body, and stopped at my groin where a mild erection was already visible. She smiled at me with satisfaction.

“Would you please put it back?” she handed me the cath bag.

I placed the bag on the shelf again, and turned back to Wendy. I found her sitting properly in the wheelchair again, just finishing the arrangement of her legs with hands. Then she grabbed both wheel-rims firmly, and pushed them in opposite directions, energetically. That had sent the wheelchair into a swift spin on the spot. When her back was against the wall again, Wendy brought the spin to an abrupt stop. She was facing my direction at that moment, and I looked at her beautiful, nude body, set on display in front of me.

Wendy’s thighs were spread slightly with a prominent gap between knees. The knees were swaying from the sudden end of the spin that had caused the flaccid muscles in her legs to jiggle too. In contrast to separated knees, Wendy’s feet laid firmly on the footrest plate, neatly positioned one Escort Ankara beside the other. Also, unlikely to the wild sway of Wendy’s legs, her firm breasts didn’t move much. They just sort-of lazily rolled over the top of the round, protruding belly, and shook a bit.

I was pretty sure she had done it on purpose because her eyes were glued to my midsection, inspecting my erection openly. The impertinence of Wendy’s stare, and the whole act itself, made me shiver with excitement. I could feel my – now free – penis harden, and rising up in a response.

“Mmmm,” Wendy murmured. “It does cheer up a cripple’s self-esteem to see that somebody still finds her disfigured and useless body sexy!” she exclaimed in a bold manner.

I wanted to protest at first, but decided against. She said it more to herself than to me.

“Although, I don’t understand it at all…” she added absent-mindedly, still staring at my erection in a little disbelieve.

“You don’t need to understand it to enjoy it,” I said philosophically.

“Yeah, you might be right, boy, you might be right…” she admitted, and then shook her head as if waking up from a dream.

She stopped looking at me and concentrated on the position of her wheelchair. She moved it around a bit to get it closer to the waiting shower chair. When satisfied, she applied brakes, scooted herself to the side, and used her hands to literally knock her feet from the footrest to the floor. They landed on hard tile with a jolt. The left one moved farer forward by the momentum, trapping the curled toes underneath. The other one slumped to the side, touching the ground with the outer ankle. I shivered at witnessing such a rough manipulation of those lovely, poor feet.

But Wendy didn’t pay attention to her legs, and leaned her body to the left side, grabbing the farther edge of the shower chair with the left hand. She placed the right one on the wheelchair seat beside her thigh, and with a mighty push she tried to raise her dead bottom up, and to the left.

Unfortunately, she failed to rise her ass high enough, and it had only slid over the seat a bit, then stopped, caught by the rubber tire of the big wheel. However, Wendy’s upper body kept moving to the side, and she had to grab the handrail that extended from the side wall in front of her, quickly, to prevent herself from toppling to the left.

She gasped, and rearranged her hands on both seats again, once she had stabilized herself. Then she looked at me sheepishly.

When she saw me watching her pitiful efforts without much concern, she frowned. “Are you going to just stand there, and enjoy my struggling?” she said with a hint of stern in the voice.

Now it was my turn to smile.

I walked to her, feeling the erected penis sway around on the way. I folded up the handrail that ran across the shower almost up to the place where the wheelchair was parked. I needed more room in front of Wendy.

Then I stepped in front of her, lowered a bit at knees, and bent forward. Wendy wrapped the right arm around my shoulders, and I inserted my hands under those amazingly soft and supple buttocks of her. Wendy still kept the left hand on the edge of the shower chair to help navigate her unfeeling bottom to the correct position at the end of the process.

The chair seat had a big hole in the middle that resembled a seat of a toilet, slightly. Except for the fact that the shower chair’s one had been padded with a foam, and looked much more comfortable.

“One, two, three,” I counted, and felt Wendy tightening her grip on my shoulders as she pulled herself up to me.

I lifted that beautiful, although numb, arse from the wheelchair, and easily moved it over to the shower chair. I waited a bit to let Wendy guide it to the right place, and only then I lowered her down, very slowly. She took off the arm from my shoulders, and used it to adjust her position a bit more. Then she looked thankfully at me with a visible hint of embarrassment in her eyes. Suddenly I felt so touched that I had to look away.

To hide my deep emotions, I busied myself with Wendy’s legs. They had ended up laying sideways, twisted and curled, one foot over the other. I picked them up by holding them under knees, letting limp lower legs hung down from my hands, feet dangling just a centimeter, or so, above the floor.

“Would you move the chair under the shower head for me?” Wendy asked. “I cannot do it myself when the front handrail is folded up.”

“Sure, girl,” I assured her.

There were two thin rails running across the shower under the chair. They were integrated in the floor, so they didn’t form any kind of obstacle on the ground, just two straight, narrow, metallic cracks in the otherwise smooth surface. The chair must have been connected to some sort of small wheels, or rollers inside the rails, and could be pushed sideways further into the shower stall, under the faucet and the shower head mounted on the wall. A very simple mechanism was attached at the bottom of the chair seat that allowed to block the movement during the transfer.

I Escort Bayan gathered both Wendy’s lifeless legs on my right forearm, trying to hold them high enough to not drag tiptoes over hard tiles. Then I grabbed the edge of the chair, felt for the small lever of the blocking mechanism underneath, and pressed it. In the meantime, Wendy had wrapped her arms around me again, as if just not knowing what to do with them without having a handrail to hold on. I pushed the chair to the side, and it started to slide in rails smoothly. I walked together with it, bringing Wendy’s legs with me.

When the chair seemed to reach the end of the track, I brought it to a soft stop. Wendy unwrapped her arms, and I gently lowered her legs down again, making sure both feet were laying flat on the floor.

“Thank you, Marc,” Wendy said and caressed my face with a soft palm, acknowledging my gentle care.

“My pleasure, believe me,” I said as I stood up, the erected penis shaking visibly in the process.

Wendy giggled, and put a hand over her mouth in a girlish gesture.

“Do you think IT would appreciate if I let you wash me now?” she asked, still giggling, and poked at my erected penis with the back of her hand, as if touching something strange.

“I’m sure it would,” I answered smiling too.

“Just a quick bath then,” Wendy suggested. “It’s getting late. Just the bottom and the upper body, please. You have done that before, you know what to do.”

I started the water, adjusted the temperature, and grabbed the shower head from its stand on the wall. I wetted Wendy’s beautiful body thoroughly. Then I replaced the head on the wall, and poured some soap liquid into my palm from the dispenser mounted on the wall too. I knelt down by Wendy’s right side, and started to spread the soap over her chest.

My heart was pounding from the excitement and waves of love I felt inside. I was about to wash this blonde beauty, to wash this amazing body, the most adorable body in the whole world! My dick was throbbing just at the thought of it.

Wendy raised her arms above the head, and I soaped thoroughly her hairless armpits. Wendy’s pale skin was soft and smooth. My soapy palms glided over it with seemingly no resistance at all. I could feel contours of the eminent muscles on Wendy’s shoulders, strong biceps and triceps, well-toned from all the work she had to do with them to drag her lifeless body around. I massaged them tenderly and Wendy leaned her head to the side, then moaned silently.

I kept massaging Wendy’s shoulders, upper arms, and muscular upper sides of her ribcage. Then I let one of my hand slip behind, to the Wendy’s back, and started to massage the strong muscles there too.

“Oh, that’s beautiful,” Wendy moaned again with closed eyes. “I haven’t even realized how much I needed this! Ooooh… keep on going, please. That’s nice,” she encouraged me, and I tried to do my best to not disappoint this lovely creature.

Eventually, I got back to Wendy’s chest, and continued down to her boobs. I found both nipples erect already. I soaped them gently, playing with each of them in turn. Wendy moaned every now and then as I kept touching and poking at those swollen nubs. Then I soaped up the remaining surface of Wendy’s amazing breasts, squeezing and fondling them lovingly all the time.

Finally, I inserted my slippery hands under those big, heavy orbs, and pushed them up a bit in order to soap the skin under them. Wendy’s breath deepened noticeably. I let one of breasts rest in the palm of my hand, and pushed it upward slightly as if considering its weight. Wendy moaned loudly. I squeezed, and Wendy moaned in response, again. Then I moved my hand, still trying to hold the breast inside my palm, and at the same time reach the pert nipple with my thumb. When I achieved that, and pushed clumsily on the side of the nipple, still squeezing the beautiful mound in my hand, Wendy’s face tensed with deep excitement.

“Oh my god…” she sighed and opened eyes that glistened with the heat of sexual arousal.

Suddenly, she encircled her right arm around my back, and pulled me to her. With the left hand she grabbed my head from behind and guided it to her red face. She closed eyes again and opened those sexy, full lips, instead. We kissed hard, with enormous passion. We didn’t lose time on small kisses, Wendy’s wet tongue invaded my mouth the exact moment our lips had touched. She pulled me to her so tightly that it almost hurt. Strong, right arm still on my back, the hand caressing my side, fingernails digging into my skin. The left hand held my head forcefully, so I couldn’t really move much.

Our bodies clung to each other, Wendy’s huge breasts, slippery from the soap, smashed against my chest. I could feel the smooth skin glide over mine as we moved a little, from time to time. I was holding her soapy body by my left arm around her shoulders, while I used the right one to cares the side of Wendy’s trunk. I tried to focus on the upper parts where she still had the feeling, but occasionally I let my hand drop down to the hip and the nicely rounded belly. All the time we were kissing wildly. Wendy’s lips parted from mines occasionally, when she would change to kissing and licking my chin and cheeks in a frenzy. Then she would resume exploring my mouth again, rolling her hot and super-slick tongue all around inside it.