Morning Light

Morning Light: A narrative from Ms. Gimply's collection.

I woke to see the early morning sunlight filter through the trees and play on the wall of his bedroom. There was a breeze to move the leaves and make ever changing patterns of light and shadow. I half closed my eyes and let myself be drawn into the shifting kaleidoscope. The dappled light blended with pleasant memories of the night before.

My fascination quickly ended when I moved a bit and my body reminded me why I had awakened. My bladder was filled to bursting and crying for relief.

I turned to look at him. He was asleep beside me. I knew he was a sound sleeper and he seemed to sleep even deeper in his own bed than he did in mine. We were both still naked and uncovered. My movements didn't seem to disturb his sleep. He looked boyish and absolutely untroubled by anything. I didn't have the heart to wake him.

My wheelchair was still in his car. We had left it behind the night before when in a grand romantic gesture he carried me in for my first overnight visit to his home. It was the prelude to a night of extraordinary sex. But now I was paying the price of our romance by being without my wheels.

There was an alternative. I slid off the high bed to the floor as quietly and gracefully as I could. Although I rarely did it any more, I could still move about on my knees and shins by sitting on my haunches with my feet a bit apart behind me. Then I could rock my body to make forward progress a bit at a time. From my perspective close to the floor I could see that he was a careful housekeeper. I was glad of that.

I had moved around that way a lot when I was a girl. I loved escaping the wheelchair that I used for school and church and shopping. Mother bought me knee pads and let me roam all over the yard and to the neighbors. She never once complained about how dirty my clothes and I were after a day on the ground. There were a lot of kids in our neighborhood and they easily got used to the cerebral palsy girl who scampered around like a crab and joined as many of the games as she could.

I especially liked playing with the boys. I liked the physical contact of roughhousing and being pulled and pushed into swings and slides. Once the boys built a treehouse. It was low enough to the ground that they could pull me up to it. Billy was my particular friend. He and I would sit in the treehouse and talk for hours and watch the changing patterns of sunlight filtered through the leaves. I guess that within my limits I was a tomboy.

That all changed with puberty, mine and theirs. In the first place my body grew and developed and moving around that way became physically more difficult. But there were other more subtle changes. Mother began to expect me to act like a 'young lady.' The other girls drifted into crushes and dating and chasing popularity. They lost interested in our games. The boys went off to be interested in the girls and organized sports. They lost interest in me. It was especially hard when Billy drifted away. Gradually I used the wheelchair more and more and became the ideal image of a CP poster girl.

But I could still scamper on my haunches if I had to and I reached the door of his bathroom. My heart sank as I entered. There was no sign of a handrail to lift myself to the seat My first impulse was to tell him he must install them but I checked myself before the thought was half formed. As promising as our relationship was, I had no business redesigning his house after spending one night there.

With my bladder complaining, I negotiated an ungraceful ascent by holding the rim of the lavatory and the seat of the toilet. I didn't dare to put any weight on the flimsy towel rack. I sat down hard and immediately peed.

For a moment the sweet release was almost as good as an orgasm and the thrills and shivers of the night before sprang to life again. I was astonished that I was still aroused. My delight dampened when I discovered that the toilet roll was on the wall behind me and on my worst side as well. My bad arm flailed aimlessly in my first attempt to reach it. It would have been difficult even for someone whose body did what it was told. I pivoted a bit on the seat and twisted to try it with my better arm. I managed to snatch only a small scrap of tissue and almost fell on the floor in the process. This wasn't a good plan either. As I touched the bit of tissue to myself, shudders went through my body again and I gasped aloud. I let my hand linger a bit. I was still wet and now my hand was wet as well.

I didn't want to risk the pivot and twist again. My better hand found its way to the dry washcloth on the rack and then found its way back to me. My body almost doubled over as the coarse cloth touched me. I had never been this aroused from touching myself. I gave the credit to the glorious night before.

I dropped the cloth into the lavatory and made a mental note to rinse it when he retrieved my chair. Then I dismounted inelegantly but without disaster and began my journey back to the bedroom.

When I got there, the sun was higher. Now two walls of the room were filled with the dappled light coming through the trees. I stopped next to the bed to rest and to enjoy the patterns. After a pause, I laid as much of my upper body as I could over the bed and attempted to pull the rest of me behind it. It didn't work. There was nothing solid to hold. My struggles roused him. He wakened just enough to hear me say "Pull me up." He obliged and I lay beside him as he drifted back to sleep.

The patterns on the walls didn't lull me back to sleep. Instead their play intensified my arousal. I lifted myself back to my knees, this time on the bed. I moved to position myself by his legs. With the uncertain support of my arms, I lifted one of my legs and moved it so that I straddled one of his. Then I struggled over his other leg until I was straddling him completely. I was still upright.

The commotion had awakened him again and his erection came to life in front of my eyes. We had always made love in the dark and I had never really seen him like that. The sun had moved and now the patterns were playing on him and me as well as on the wall. From my upright position I could see the green leaves of the trees through the open window.

My better hand found its way to him and caressed and his erection grew. He started to reach for me, but I said, "Just lie still and enjoy."

I think his erection became even bigger when I said that.

I inched my way forward. With only a little help, I took him deep inside me and spasms came in my belly. Now the lights and shadows and the moving leaves were inside me, too, playing in my belly and my legs. I began to rock slowly. The lights and the shadows and the leaves were in my head and were circling and dancing and my body burned.

I had just enough control to keep rocking. My better arm was reaching aimlessly in the air and tracing circles there. The other was clenched tightly to my breast and quivering. My back arched. My head was thrown back. My voice was a steady moan that was trying to say words that wouldn't come.

I seemed to be seeing him from somewhere far away. I was in a place with trees and dappled light and shade and floating above everything. Billy was there and Billy was far away at the same time. I felt his body tense under me. I heard him saying the things that wouldn't come out of my own mouth. I heard him say my name. I felt him pumping himself into me and it seemed the light and shade and reflections and Billy were pumping into me, too.

My whole abdomen contracted and I gave birth to the sunshine and to the light and shadows, to the leaves and the trees, and to him and to me and to Billy and to the whole universe. I stayed that way for a long, long moment. Tears came. One hand came down slowly. The other released its convulsive clutch of my breast. My back and my head came forward and I collapsed onto him. He held me close while I gasped and sobbed and shuddered through the rest of my orgasm.

He held me there for a long, long time. I think he even slept again. The sun moved on and there were no more patterns of light and shadow. Eventually he opened his eyes again. I murmured "Good morning."

He said "I hope there will be more mornings like this."

"That's possible," I teased, "But if you want me to come back, we'll have to have the morning light again."

I paused for some seconds, and then I added, "And you'll have to move the toilet paper."