My name is Jeffrey Bruton. I was a big shot in a small town until one stupid decision took it all away. When I was sixteen I got drafted into the CHL, the top junior hockey league in Canada. For four years, I was a hero in my town. I was a 6 foot tall two hundred pound center with long wavy hair. I played with an edge that always made me a fan favourite. I had the hottest girlfriends, and plenty of action when I was in between girls.
Unfortunately I never got drafted to the NHL. So after finishing my four years of junior hockey, I decided to finish my degree and play hockey at UW, where I had been attending classes while playing for the Kitchener Rangers. I already had already done a year’s worth of studies during the final two years of my CHL career, so for the next three years I went to the occasional class, played hockey, and partied. I was set to graduate, but barely, when I made a decision that changed my life forever.
My girlfriend Michelle had decided to have a girls night out, so my buddy Eric and I decided to hit the bars. We made the rounds of our regular bars until we got to The Rev, where we found a few of our buddies. We stayed at the Rev for a while, drinking a lot of beer. Eventually we were too rowdy, I think I threw a punch at the bouncer, I’m not sure, but I know we were asked to leave. Someone at the bar had mentioned an off-campus party that was going on that night, so we decided to go there.
Eric had driven to the bar so we got in his car and took off. We had done it hundreds of times before and got lucky, but this time we didn’t. Eric took a turn too fast, and we ended up smashing into a street light. Eric walked away from the crash, but I wasn’t so lucky. My side of the car had been what had hit the light post, and the car was crumpled all around me.
The crash had knocked me out, and the next thing I remember was waking up in the hospital. I was really sore, and my right arm was in a cast. The nurse saw that I was awake, and she quickly left to get a doctor. The doctor told me that I had broken my back during the accident, and that I would probably never walk again. This was a blow to me. I was an athlete, I based my entire life on that description. If I couldn’t walk, what did that make me?
Michelle was very supportive. She was at my side everyday while I was in the hospital. She was the only reason I hadn’t slipped into severe depression. Any time I started feeling down, she would remind me that she stilled loved me, and that she would help me figure things out.
When I had healed enough, and had learned to get around in a wheelchair, the hospital released me and I went home to our apartment. It had been a month since the accident, and we both couldn’t wait to get home and fuck. That was one of the reasons Michelle was my girlfriend. She had as big of an appetite for sex as I did. We both had been going crazy waiting for this moment. Aside from a few quick blowjobs in the hospital, we hadn’t had any sex for the whole month I was in the hospital.
I had always been the aggressor when we had sex in the past. I’d rip Michelle’s clothes off, fuck her against the wall; the edge of the bed; the table; or whatever was available. But with the accident, I had to now lay on my back and let her do all the work. That may not seem like much, but it’s a completely different dynamic. One neither of us was comfortable with. We tried to have me on top, but I wasn’t able to get enough thrust with just my arms to fuck her properly, so we ended up with her riding me cow-girl style until I came, and then she lay beside me and we went to sleep.
Over the next few weeks we tried to find something that would make our sex life work, but soon we were finding problems with things outside the bedroom too. I was having problems adjusting to life in a wheelchair, and she was having problems adjusting to not having a healthy, strong boyfriend. Eventually we just decided it wasn’t going to work out, and she left, leaving me the apartment.
It’s been a year since she left. I’ve changed a lot since then. After the accident my weight dropped to 160 pounds as I slowly recovered, and sat around moping. About six months after Michelle left, I finally decided I had to do something, and I started going for rolls.(you would call them runs, but since I’m in a wheel chair I just roll) Slowly my health started returning. I am now back to 190 pounds and I have larger biceps than I ever had before the accident. My pecs are sculpted and my stomach is flat. My legs are wasting away from not using them, but other than that, I’m now in the best shape of my life.
As my physique has returned, so has my confidence. I have started letting people back into my life that I had shut out. Even Eric, who ended up losing his license because of the accident. I don’t blame him for my fate. I know I was stupid for letting him drive, and stupid for going along with him. We are good friends again, and we often get together Saturday nights to watch the Leafs play on tv. Neither of us has had a drink since that night. It might seem extreme, but we want to avoid any more stupid decisions.
The one thing I miss, is sex. I’ve only had sex once since Michelle left. The one time was with Jessica, a friend of mine who I always seemed to hook up with whenever I was single. She had come over one night to see how I was doing , and we started talking about old times. I told her about what had driven Michelle and I apart, and that I thought my arms were strong enough now that I wouldn’t have that problem anymore.
“You mean you can still get it up?” She asked. “I’m sorry I just assumed that since you were paralyzed from the waist down you couldn’t fuck any more”
“Yeah, I can still get it up.” I replied. “The doctor’s don’t fully understand why, but having your spinal chord damaged doesn’t affect it.”
After hearing this, Jessica came over and with each knee wedged between my leg and that side of the chair she sat on my lap. As she climbed into that position she leaned in and kissed my lips. I returned the kiss, and reached for her t-shirt, pulling it over her head. I then reached for and undid her bra, as she pulled my shirt over my head.
“God, your chest is amazing!” she exclaimed when she saw my chiselled physique. She leaned down to kiss my chest, and I decided to wheel us into the bedroom. Jessica was still kissing my chest as I reached the side of my bed. I lifted her off me, and set her on my bed, before lifting myself from my chair to a spot on the bed beside her. I undid her jeans, and she helped me slide them and her panties off of her, before she helped me out of my shorts and boxers.
I then slid my body around so that I could lick her sweet shaven pussy, and she started to suck my cock. I don’t know how to describe the sensation. I couldn’t feel her actions, and yet, somehow I could feel myself growing hard. Eventually I spun back around and gave her a kiss before I positioned myself above her body and slid my cock into her waiting pussy.
A year ago, that would have been all I could have done, but now my arms were conditioned. I had developed strength and stamina in my arms, and by grabbing the headboard, I was able to use them to piston my cock in and out of her pussy. It was incredible, after all that time to finally be fucking someone again. The thrill was too intense for me, so I wasn’t able to last very long, and soon I was filling Jessica’s pussy with my cum.
Afterwards, I rolled off of her, and lay beside her, thanking her for the experience, and telling her that I would be ready for a second round soon.
“Jeff, this was a mistake, I have a boyfriend now. I meant to tell you, but we got carried away before I could bring it up” She told me.
“What?” I asked.
“This can’t happen again,” she said as she got out of bed and got dressed.
She told me she had to leave, so I followed her to the door, before she kissed my forehead and left my apartment.
I was devastated. I had finally had sex again, only to find out it was just a one time thing.
So once I again I am resigned to the internet for my sex life. On the web, I am still the athlete. I am still the lady’s man. But the only real action I get, is with my hand. Were these women to realize I was in a wheelchair they would have sympathy for me instead of lust.
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