Chapter 37

My apartment was a stage. Every time I pulled back the curtains, I felt the weight of all those eyes waiting for the show. And I was the star. My audience was predictable — a bunch of grown-ass guys peeking like awkward teens, hiding behind drapes or window cracks, scared shitless of getting caught. I wasn’t sure if they were more afraid of me or their wives. A few women watched too. Some with disgust. Others… with curiosity.

I turned heads. My blue hair, the tattoos scattered across my body, my height. And to contrast, the floral dresses, light, almost innocent. I wasn’t your average woman; I’m tall as hell and I know I’ve got this flashy, exhibitionist vibe that rubs a lot of people the wrong way.

Living alone gave me freedom, and I took full advantage. No one to tell me what to wear. Or even if I had to wear anything. I loved walking around naked or just in panties, feeling the cool air on my skin. Bras? My sworn enemies. Time and genetics had been good to me — my full, firm tits didn’t need any support. And the curtains? Always wide open. The thrill of being watched was always there inside me. The more I felt those eyes on me, the more I positioned myself just right, where I knew they could get a better view.

In the middle of all those curious stares, there was one that stood out: the most regular. His window was almost at the same level as mine, and every time I looked, he was there. A shadow in the frame, still as a statue. Sometimes, I’d catch the faint glint of binoculars. No rush, no pretending. He never looked away. At first, I ignored him. Then, I started noticing his presence. He became part of my routine. I never knew his name. Never saw him around the complex.

It was on a Friday when boredom was eating me alive and I wanted to get out, feel music in my body, kiss some new lips. But the city was a mess. Friends were busy, money was tight, and to top it off, the rain was pounding the streets, knocking out the power and trapping me inside. All I had was my audience. But dressed in just an oversized t-shirt and panties, I realized almost no one was paying attention to me.

Almost no one.

He was still there.

“Dude, this guy never leaves that window… what a fucking pervert.”

I stepped closer to the window, staring right back at him. Was he smiling? Hard to tell in the dim light. Without overthinking it, I raised my hand and waved.

He waved back right away.

My stomach flipped. A jolt of electricity ran across my skin. What the hell was this? Curiosity? Arousal? Some new game kicking off?

I wanted to talk to him. Needed to know more.

I grabbed a sheet of A4 paper and wrote my phone number in big, clear strokes. I went to the window and held it up so he could see.

He leaned in, squinting, shielding his eyes from the light. Then, he gestured for me to wait.

He disappeared for a full minute.

The suspense made me grin. I was into it.

When he came back, binoculars covered his face.

I held up the paper again and tried to position it higher and farther from my body to make it easier to read.

He read it and gave a thumbs up.

I waved in agreement and stood there watching life in the complex while I anxiously waited for his text.

And then, the message came.

“Could you please take off your shirt? It’s blocking the view of your body.”

I blinked in disbelief. Read it again…

“What a fucking bold asshole!” I muttered, feeling an unexpected heat rise in my chest. Was he serious or just messing with me?

“You messing with me?” I typed, hesitating.

The reply came almost instantly:

“I’ll say I am… but deep down, deep down…”

I bit my lip. A little smile started tugging at the corner of my mouth.

“Why do you keep watching me walk around naked in my place?”

“God, have you never seen yourself naked? If you had, you’d know exactly why!”

I let out a low laugh.

“What a rascal… I love it!”

“Wanna do something now?”

I dropped the phone in my lap and ran a hand over my face, laughing to myself.

“God, I’m such a slut…”

His reply came quick:

“I’m kinda busy watching you walk around naked, but… if you could give me a better spot, like on your couch, I’d be happier. I’d keep watching you… and we could do other stuff too.”

I bit my lip. He was sharp. I liked that.

“Apartment 603B. Leave the binoculars at home. Waiting for you.”

Time dragged until the next reply. Then, finally, the notification lit up my phone screen.

“Give me twenty minutes.”

Across the window, he vanished. My heart raced.

I rushed around the apartment, straightening up everything out of place. Nothing over the top, just enough so it didn’t look like I lived in total chaos. And of course, I closed the curtains. Some shows were exclusive for a more select audience.

Before the doorbell rang, I threw on shorts over my panties. One thing was being watched from afar; another was sharing the same space with a stranger. Sure, he’d already seen pretty much everything… but still, there was a difference.

The intercom buzzed.

“Your visitor is coming up,” the doorman announced.

My heart pounded. I took a deep breath. A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. I hurried across the apartment and peeked through the peephole. Nothing.

I frowned.

“Huh… fuck, is this guy messing with me?”

I unlocked the door and swung it open, ready to fire off a sarcastic comment. But as soon as I looked out… nothing. I had to look down.

My stomach twisted.

The shock hit first, a wave of surprise that froze me for a second. My eyes took a few extra beats to process the sight in front of me. The wheelchair, the way his legs looked so frail, the carefully adjusted posture. An uncomfortable heat crept up my face. It wasn’t embarrassment for him. It was mine. My gaze had lingered too long, and a lump formed in my throat. What was I feeling? Awkwardness, yeah. A sudden fear that he might read something on my face that wasn’t there.

Pity? No. I never liked that word. But something inside me twisted in an unexpected way. I’d always been in control, confident in myself and my body. But right then, I was the one caught off guard.

And then, he laughed.

“Go ahead, I always make an impact on people!”

The way he said it, casual and relaxed, made me exhale without realizing I’d been holding my breath.

I smiled, not sure exactly how to respond.

“Hey… come in. Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting this. I’m kinda nervous now.”

He raised an eyebrow but kept his tone chill:

“If I’m bothering you, I can leave.”

“No, it’s not that. I was just surprised.”

He looked at me for a moment, sizing up my expression, but he didn’t seem offended. He was a good-looking guy, a bit younger than me. His legs, thin, were positioned to the side, like a lady sitting elegantly. But his arms… strong. Defined. The kind of build that showed he worked out, maybe from the effort of maneuvering the chair.

That scene must be everyday for him. He didn’t drag out my discomfort for a second.

“You gonna leave me out here? Doesn’t the cripple get a ticket to your show?”

I let out a sigh, covering my face with my hands.

“God, man, don’t talk like that, it’s awful! Come on in! Want a drink?”

I turned before hearing his answer, heading straight to the kitchen. I grabbed two beers and took a deep breath. It wasn’t prejudice, far from it. But it was a shock for me. I’d never been on a date with someone in a wheelchair before. And the truth was, I didn’t know what to say or how to act, so I decided to just relax and let it flow.

We spent hours talking. He was great. We chatted about work, trips, loves. Time flew by without me noticing, and the conversation flowed with surprising ease.

But there was something I wanted to ask.

I didn’t know how to bring it up. I was afraid it’d kill the vibe, that it’d be too invasive. He’d probably heard that question a thousand times. What if it was a trauma?

As I tried to find a way to say it, I fell silent, lost in my thoughts.

He noticed.

“I know,” he said, smirking. “You’re trying to figure out if it works, right?”

My eyes went wide.

“No! I didn’t even think about that!” I lied badly.

He laughed.

“So what then?”

I sighed, deciding to be straight.

“How’d you end up in the chair?”

He nodded slowly, like he’d been expecting it.

“An accident in my teens. I feel my legs a little, but… it’s more numb than anything.”

I hesitated.

“Everything?”

He looked away, his tone a bit heavier.

“Unfortunately.”

The silence stretched between us for a beat. Then, I risked it:

“So how do you… you know… you have desires. I see how you look at me.”

He let out a short laugh, no humor in it.

“Yeah. But I end up not doing it… no one wants to.”

I don’t know what came over me right then.

He was hot, smart, interesting… but those things alone weren’t enough to make me want someone. I liked sex. Liked feeling desire and stirring it up.

And in that moment, I acted on impulse.

I leaned in on the couch, getting close to him without thinking. When our lips met, it wasn’t just a kiss. It was one of the most amazing kisses of my life.

Before I knew it, I was sitting in his lap.

His arms wrapped around me firmly. His hands traced a slow, careful path down my back, pulling me closer. He stroked my face, ran his fingers through my hair, tucking strands behind my ear as we deepened the kiss.

He was affectionate. Intense.

He pulled back just enough to whisper against my mouth:

“Want an Uber to your bedroom, miss?”

I laughed, breathless, but then a thought hit me.

“Wait… you said that shit doesn’t work!”

Because, sitting there in his lap, I didn’t feel anything hard against me.

He just smiled.

Without answering, he gave an extra push, rolling the chair’s wheels while keeping me in his lap.

The ride to the bedroom was surprisingly smooth.

“First time someone’s carried me to bed…” I murmured, amused. “But I got the feeling you’re cheating!”

He laughed.

“And you haven’t even seen what I can do yet.”

In the bedroom, he lined up the chair with my bed so I could get off easily. As soon as I slid off his lap, he propelled himself alone, leaving the chair behind and flopping down beside me. He adjusted against the pillows, finding a comfy spot.

And then, one of the most intense experiences of my life began.

Maybe it was the idea of dominance, having a man surrendered, passive to my desires, or maybe it was just him. But I wanted more. A lot more.

I rose over him and pulled off my shirt, exposing my skin to the air and his watchful eyes. I sat up straight, feeling the texture of his clothes against my thighs.

His hands came right away.

I closed my eyes and just felt.

His touch was rough, direct. Calloused palms, hardened from years of spinning those wheels, sliding over my skin with a delicious friction. The contrast gave me goosebumps all over. He wasn’t gentle, but he wasn’t rough either. It was a touch without hesitation, like he was shaping my body, sculpting every curve with his fingertips. Each light scratch of his rough skin against my flesh lit a fire under my surface. My whole body reacted to him, throbbing, waiting for something that didn’t come — the pain. But there was no pain. Just pleasure.

My tits were sensitive, craving more. Without hesitating, I leaned forward, offering one to him.

He didn’t waste time.

His mouth took it eagerly, and his tongue started an intense path, circling in quick, precise movements. The jolt of pleasure made me arch my back, a delicious shiver running over my skin. The energy buzzed inside me, echoing in hot waves from my nipples to the throbbing core between my legs. I was wet, sliding against him, riding a slow rhythm, a silent dance guided only by lust.

I switched tits, and he took each one like a feast, lips sucking hard, tongue sliding shamelessly. His eyes were closed, totally focused on the task, like it was sacred. His breath was heavy, hot against my skin, and with every new assault from his mouth, I unraveled a little more.

I needed more. I wanted that mouth on my pussy.

I pulled up abruptly, yanking myself from his lips without warning. He looked surprised, maybe even a little scared by my sudden move, or maybe by the wicked, pure desire in my eyes. I hooked my fingers in the side of my shorts and let them slide down my legs, exposing without shame what I’d never liked hiding anyway.

“Up close, the view’s really that much better,” he murmured, eyes gleaming, mouth half-open.

“Then this view’s gonna be even better.”

I turned around, positioning myself over him, lowering slowly onto his face. Under my control, I guided his tongue to my favorite spots, feeling him lick and get messy without hesitation, exploring every inch of me with hunger and devotion.

I was soaked with pleasure, and he seemed to know exactly how to draw out even more, lapping at me like a eager pup. His hands gripped my ass hard, while one still climbed to my tits, teasing, scratching, provoking. His mouth devoured me whole, and I ground against his face, rubbing mercilessly against his nose and chin, chasing more, wanting more.

The orgasm hit fast, violent, a sudden wave that ripped me out of myself. It was so strong it scared me. A spasm made me lose control, and suddenly, I collapsed forward, sprawled over his body, still shaking. I hadn’t even come yet; the shock sent it away as quick as it arrived.

“Damn… not now, fuck…” I murmured, panting, laughing at what I felt.

He laughed with me, lips still wet from me, and before I could get up to keep going, I felt two thick fingers tear into me from inside.

It wasn’t painful, but as my flesh parted, his calloused fingers scraped my insides with a rough, invasive touch, pulling a weird moan from me. My breath caught, stealing my air, my whole body shuddered. The man lying inert on my bed, the one I’d thought passive, was now dominating me without even moving.

His fingers plunged deep, hunting the exact spot of my pleasure, and when they found it, they pressed without mercy. The intensity threw me off balance, and the loss of control was so huge that for a second I thought I’d lose all grip on my own body. The heat surged wild, an unbearable desire that made me feel like I’d explode. In my ears, the wet, rhythmic sounds of his thrusts echoed in a frantic beat. I arched up, desperate, opening the way for him to take me completely.

And he did.

While one finger worked my clit from inside, the other slid outside, teasing, testing, threatening the tight entrance of my other hole. I arched, begging and refusing at the same time, as his hand bent me, filled me, broke me down.

The double invasion was a shock. A shock that tore screams from me, hoarse moans, pleas for mercy that were just empty words, because what I really wanted was for him not to stop.

And then, it came.

The orgasm that had been denied before returned with vengeful fury, stealing all control from me. I felt my body open, surrender, and when the wave hit, it was strong, brutal, taking me with it. I squirted over him, no holds barred, no restraint, soaking everything between us. The pleasure crashed like an avalanche, and when I finally collapsed onto the sheets, all that was left was a sting of shame and emptiness.

“Fuck, I haven’t seen a guy this good with his hands since Aleijadinho…” I blurted, laughing at my own joke.

His eyes widened for a second before he burst out laughing.

“Damn, girl, you didn’t just make that joke! The guy didn’t even have fingers left at the end of his life…”

“I did. And I’ll make it again if you keep up with that amazing hand.”

Still smiling, I lay on his belly, feeling his steady breath under me. I slid my hands slowly over his shirt, tracing the outline of his abs.

“Take off that shirt,” I ordered.

He obeyed without question, pulling the fabric off and tossing it aside.

“And those pants, you gonna take ‘em off?”

He hesitated.

“I don’t know… you gotta be ready. It ain’t pretty. And what you want, I can’t give you.”

“But do you feel anything?”

He sighed.

“I feel it. But it doesn’t get hard. I don’t have much control over that, you know?”

“I know…”

I was curious. Wanted to understand more about him, his body. But above all, I wanted to return the pleasure he’d given me.

“Take ‘em off. Let me see.”

He looked at me for a moment, gauging my face.

“You sure?”

I nodded, and in his way, he took off his pants and underwear.

His legs looked like they didn’t belong to him, smaller than normal, like they’d never fully developed. The muscles were atrophied, stuck in a weird position that he had to adjust with his hands.

My eyes drifted down, curious. His cock was nice. Still soft, but impressively thick, like guys get after sex, heavy between his thighs.

I reached down and touched it, sliding my fingers in a slow caress.

“You feel that?”

“Yeah…”

“And if I put my mouth on it? You feel that too?”

He looked at me, surprised.

“You sure you wanna suck a soft dick?”

I shrugged, smirking mischievously.

“You’re not gonna be the first limp one I suck. But at least you’ve got a damn good excuse.”

His eyes went wide, pretending to be offended.

“Hey! Respect me! I’m disabled!”

We laughed together, the mood lightening up, but still thick with tension. I was curious. He was surrendered. And I really wanted to see how far this could go.

I’d never sucked a soft cock that didn’t get hard. I always loved feeling a dick stiffen in my mouth, the pulse growing between my lips, the quiet control I had over someone else’s desire. But this… this was different.

And, weirdly, hot.

The texture was new to me. The skin felt softer, more pliable, like something unique, a third kind of sex I’d never tried. It slid between my fingers with a peculiar smoothness, without the hardness I was used to.

He felt little of what I did, but that didn’t discourage me. I didn’t suck just to give pleasure — I sucked because I liked it, because it turned me on, because every new sensation on my tongue woke something primal in me. I nipped lightly, testing limits. Licked slow, tasting every inch. Sucked playfully, while my hand slid in an almost automatic motion. I jerked him off pointlessly, but I kept at it, getting off on the teasing itself. With every little bite on the head of his cock, he let out a moan, a mix of pain and laugh, like we’d been intimate for years.

And I was having fun.

I felt the heat rising in waves through my body, not from his reaction, but from my own surrender to the experience. Like I was discovering a new pleasure, a secret hidden in desire. I would’ve climbed on him to rub myself, to feel my skin against his, but without pants, he looked so delicate that I decided to save that for another time.

Still panting, I looked up, ready to tease him again. But then I saw it. A single tear rolling down his cheek.

My chest tightened.

I hadn’t expected that. After everything between us, after the easy laughs, the intense chemistry, the shameless pleasure… there was something there I hadn’t seen coming. Something that wasn’t just lust.

My instinct was to break the mood with a joke.

“Why are you crying? Was my blowjob that bad?”

My voice came out softer than I meant, almost a hesitant whisper.

He chuckled low, shaking his head, but not looking away. His hand found mine, squeezing lightly, like he wanted to anchor me there.

It was only then that I realized: this was way bigger than sex for him.

“They always told me that when I found someone special, I should never let them out of my sight.”