Flash Fiction - All about the feet

It's all about the feet

I grasped the rims of my wheelchair and pushed. I felt a little lightheaded from the effort. Why was it so hard - I hadn't really anticipated that. My balance was terrible, really off, making my head swim a bit.

I was more or less naked. Well, not technically 'naked' - I wore the bare minimum my newfound condition would allow - a bulky, ill-fitting diaper and a 'gently used' rigid back brace that was tightly strapped on, covering from my tailbone to just between my shoulder blades in back, and my stomach and lower breast cups in the front. My breasts were bare and my nipples tingled excitedly as I kept pushing forward, the wheels on my e-bay special wheelchair crawling forward on the bedroom carpet.

I could feel a thin sheen of sweat starting to form on my forehead, my shoulders and upper back, felt the warm moisture of my armpits. Below my breasts I felt nothing, of course, and I expected that due to the lack of heat regulation below, my upper body might already be compensating. Or maybe pushing this wheelchair with no muscle control or sensation from just below my breasts down to my now limp toes was a lot more work than I had anticipated.

I heard Heather calling from the living room as I finally reached the hardwood floors of the hallway.

"Honey, where are you? It's been like, an hour. Are you OK?"

"I'm almost there lover. Close your eyes for me, OK?" I called out in my most sensual, sexy voice.

"Mmm, OK honey, they're closed. Don't keep me waiting too much longer!!" she said with a giggle. God she was sexy, even that silly giggle of hers just made me want to melt, made my pussy hot. Well, it had anyway, an hour ago. Now....

I ran out of hardwoods and my wheelchair wheels started to bog down in the thick living room carpet. I strained and got two feet closer, then stopped.

"OK, open your eyes baby."

Heather opened them and looked at me. I couldn't imagine what was going through her mind as she stared, eyes wide, at me in my wheelchair, wearing a diaper and a back brace, hair probably a bit disheveled thanks to the efforts of getting myself into my wheelchair and wheeling myself across the house.

"You did it?" she asked, her voice unreadable. I nodded.

"Injection, between T4 and T5 I think." I said, a quiver in my voice. What did she think?

Heather fell to her knees and crawled to me where I sat. She took one limp, paralyzed foot in her hands and started to kiss it. Lick it. Caress it. She rubbed it against her face and ran her delicate hands up and down my flaccid leg.

As I sat there in my wheelchair she began to undress, slowly, sensually, in ways I'd never seen her disrobe before. My breathing quickened as I stared at her, knowing that were I not paralyzed, my pussy would be hot, wet, ready for her touch. It somehow excited me more, thinking that parts of my body were no longer mine to control.

My flaccid feet were now between Heather's breasts, caressing her lithe, tan body. She was in ecstasy and began moaning, eyes closed. I could see the wetness between her legs, smell her sex. I wanted it. Wanted to touch it. Wanted to love it. I told Heather what I wanted. she looked up at me, her big blue eyes unfocused, her breathing heavy with passion. I nodded.

I saw, but did not feel, my right foot begin to stroke my lover's aroused sex. My left foot flopped to the side, abandoned, as Heather took my right foot in both hands and began to rub her clit, her legs spread wide. I sat and watched and felt a rush of.. what? Excitement certainly, arousal definitely, but something else, something I couldn't really put my finger on.

I rubbed my breasts and moaned with pleasure as I watched as the lower half of my body - and specifically my limp, useless feet - were made love to by the beautiful brown-haired girl before me.

Heather was lost in her passion now, I could see my foot glisten with her joy and hear her pants and feral moans as she came again and again, her orgasms crashing against her like storm-driven waves.

She collapsed, finally, cradling my foot against her cheek and crying, actually weeping, her chest heaving with sobs of expended passion and satiated desire. I sat in my wheelchair, wishing I could stroke her hair, touch her cheek, but between the paralysis and the back brace I knew that was impossible, or at the very least impractical. So I sat there, still playing with my breasts, watching my lover sensually stroke my limp feet.

I smiled.