Mind Over Matter 5

Have you ever came without being touched? Without touching yourself either. With no one and nothing touching any part of your body.

Even if I were to be touched I would not feel it because I am paralyzed. I could sleep soundly, oblivious to hands that caressed my thighs, fingers straying under my cotton panties, indeed all the way up inside me where I'm fire hot and cream wet. If the hands were gentle enough not to move my body much I wouldn't stir even as they drew orgasms from me, waking with my legs bathed in my girl cum, a sticky mess and awkward situation for my caregivers who would discover it in the morning and need to bathe me.

Yes, my body can cum though I cannot feel it.

But there ARE orgasms I can feel. For these, my pussy also pours. During these orgasms I feel this tinge of ache deep inside and that familiar delicious feeling of my eager cervix dilating to accommodate. My heart pounds and I realize I'm panting, and an audible moan escapes my lips. Often muscle spasms run through my legs; they are not painful but I imagine if I had a cock inside me the spasms would have my pussy clamping down tight.

A dick is not necessary for these orgasms, however. No touch is needed at all to elicit the ache that leaves me trembling and wet and staring at the wall.

I just need him.

I crave him.

Sometimes our conversation is light and he's like a boyfriend and I feel normal.

But I don't crave normal. And every depraved thing I DO crave, he gives to me.

He.

He extracts my orgasms from my numb pussy with mere words, often just typed text. One liners I read over and over, getting off every single time, throbbing agonizingly.

His words burn blush across my face like fire. His mockery and shaming almost too much to bear but making me ache where I've been numb for so long. I want him to embarrass me. I want him to insult and degrade me. I want to feel small, pathetic, used. This is not new.

He slips up and tells me I'm beautiful sometimes but I'm not here for that. I crave to be called fat, my body criticized, even my disability mocked. He knows. Understanding passed between us early on when we began to chat. Only a few times have I had to assure him the verbal abuse is wanted. It's needed.

I began identifying myself as a "sub" years before my injury. My taste for men who would dominate me was insatiable. Even then, it was very much a mind game, their words more important than the pain or the pleasure. I wanted to be nothing but meat, just a fuck hole. No pressure, right?

I found men who would play rough but still lost interest fast. I needed new faces. I craved gang bangs. I fucked strangers. I got into bandage. I became interested in rape roleplay. My porn taste grew more extreme.

Then my sex life grinded to a halt. A car accident left me totally paralyzed from the shoulders down. I can't lift a finger or feel my body at all.

Sad story, sure, but I'm a strong woman and I'm still sexy as fuck and I still need to get off so thank gawd I still can, even though it's different now.

The first time was two years after my injury. It was the fourth of July and I was at a girl friend's house watching fireworks. Her husband was standing behind me. Now, he's very very sexy and we actually had a history because his wife brought me into bed with them a handful of times before I became paralyzed.

Well, he started touching the back of my neck lightly with his fingertip, kinda tracing along my vertebrae right where it broke and I have a ton of sensation.

Y'all!!!

I didn't know it was possible to feel that unmistakable throb up in my cervix but I felt that fingertip in my fucking womb. My mouth had probably dropped open but at least it was dark, and if I whimpered the fireworks made it too hard to hear me.

On and on, a finger and a thumb swirled lightly along a zone I now knew was the most erogenous spot on my body. In those moments, clitoral stimulation felt overrated. All I wanted was his fingers on my delicate neck, barely touching, teasing, while my cervix flexed for him, and the orgasm crashed through my body, shattering me in a million pieces.

This time my body spasmed so I allowed myself to release a couple little moans. Later I looked at him over the dinner table and caught his eye but he looked oblivious of the affect he'd had on me.

The first time I came withOUT being touched though, that was with him, the one I crave.

At first he teased me lightly, intriguing me because he's one of those guys who likes paralyzed girls, a thought that gets me a bit uncomfortable in a very hot way. Like a sadist he gets off on my suffering. Ohhh Daddy!!

Our conversations had me throbbing by the end of the first week, and he immediately became my whole sex life and everything I was missing. I couldn't get enough.

After a year he finally revealed his identity to me. I had really gotten off on his identity being totally anonymous and I didn't want to ruin the vibe, but when I did finally see his face and really start getting to know him, I wasn't any less aroused by him. In fact, it got worse.

Guys, I'm now totally dick whipped for honestly only maybe the second time in my life and it's a dick I'll never feel.

What he does make me feel is something I have never heard quite accurately described because there aren't really words for how shattering and beautiful an orgasm is. An orgasm brought on by the intense lust of a kinky stranger who now feels like my internet boyfriend.

Because of course I love him. I'm madly in love with him. The only love I've ever known is that love a woman feels when she gets fucked right. He fucks me right. His words fill my mind as I lie supine on my bed, close my eyes and go to him.

In those daydreams that leave my legs spasmed open and mouth bone dry, he comes to me with sly teasing and rough hands on my throat, and he uses my body thoroughly to please himself alone, like we both like.

He shames me relentlessly and forces himself on me. How I've imagined this over and over, since he told me he once played rape games with a paralyzed ex. I go to him in my mind every night and he uses me until he cums (video chat or just texting) and I'm most often left with nothing but the bittersweet ache of orgasm denial, though sometimes there's a little relief if he's especially savage.

Keep going, I type, every cell in my body screaming for a tiny release, a cunt contraction that reminds me I'm still very much a fertile woman. My body may be paralyzed but I still crave cum, fantasizing about him shooting one of his big loads straight up into my womb. I think about him releasing in me, his body slamming into mine and shuddering against me. I watch him cum on video chat, his breath labored, cock like a rock, pre cum bubbling from the shiny pink head.

When he comes it spurts out, shoots up and all over his stomach. I always cry out involuntary when he erupts like a volcano. I think about how much of my face he could cover with just one big load like that.

One day he is coming to see me. I imagine him touching me with just one finger on my neck and my whole body convulsing. His mouth descending to that ultra sensitive flesh, licking, nipping. Fuuuuuck. I imagine his eyes meeting mine and my cervix opening. I can't wait to give him every inch of my body. I am dying to be helpless under him, fucked raw and used hard.

The fact that he can be sweet and caring fucks with my head enough to keep me intensely interested, equally eager for him to call me bitch and baby and everything in between.

For six years my greedy pussy has been deprived of dick but I didn't know how bad I still wanted it until he slid up. He puts me in my place, reminds me of my role I chose for myself long ago. I've always needed to be a daddy's whore and thanks to him I still am. And I can cum with no hands.