Fetish and Fiction: My stories and video clips

Mom & Daughter

Chapter 4
From Mom POV

As I navigate my house in my wheelchair, I usually have a smooth routine for transfers. However, today was different. As I attempted to transfer from my wheelchair to the couch, something went very wrong. I positioned myself carefully, ensuring that the wheelchair was secure but forgot to lock it in place.

As I lifted myself up, placed my high heel shoes down, my hand slipped on the edge of the couch, causing me to lose my balance. Panic surged through me as I felt myself tipping forward. In that split second, I tried to regain control, but it was too late. I toppled over, landing awkwardly on the floor. Pain shot through my right wrist as I hit the hard surface. I cursed under my breath, frustrated at my own mistake. How could I have let this happen?

As I found myself on the floor after the failed transfer, a surge of frustration and helplessness washed over me. I watched in disbelief as my wheelchair, now unoccupied, began to slowly roll away from me in the living room to the hallway.

The sight was surreal, I almost laughed. It was almost like a scene from a horror movie playing out in front of me where the crippled woman fell off her chair before being killed by an axe. I reached out instinctively, trying to grab it, to stop the wheelchair's movement. But my efforts were in vain as the distance between us widened.

For the first time in the last few weeks, with each inch the wheelchair rolled away, a sense of vulnerability crept in. It wasn't just vulnerability, it was also about the sexual surge I felt losing control of my mobility aid; it was a stark reminder of the pleasure I felt faced daily with my legs, the constant threat of fractures, setbacks and months in casts.

I turned on my front and I slid along the hardwood floor towards my wheelchair, I felt a mix of strength and pleasure. With each movement, I could feel the rough texture of the floor beneath me against my fully erected nipples. I used my arms to propel myself forward, inching closer to my wheelchair with each slide. It was a slow process, but I refused to give up.

As I neared my wheelchair, I reached out with one hand, grasping the armrest firmly. With a final push, I pulled myself up, using the wheelchair as leverage, leaning against it, catching my breath after the challenging experience, my mind wandered to Dave. He was such a nice and caring man, always ready to lend a helping hand. I couldn't help it. I wonder if he would have been turned on sexually to see me crawling along the floor in a pencil skirt, tight fitting blouse, pantyhose and 4 inch heels..

There was something about him that brought a sense of comfort and ease. The way he had rushed to pick up my fallen heel earlier that week, the concern in his eyes and the pure lust when he grabbed my crippled foot in his hand to reposition my shoe, it all spoke volumes about his character.

I found myself smiling at the thought of spending more time with Dave, getting to know him better outside of our usual interactions. Maybe a casual coffee date could be a nice way to start. But in reality I wanted him to give me a sponge bath,to carefully wash my toes, feet and legs. I could be wrong but I think he likes that I'm broken and crippled. I want him to see that I might be paralyzed, but I'm a modern, sexy woman with a great body shape.

As I straightened up in my wheelchair, I made a mental note to keep an eye out for any opportunities to connect with Dave. Who knows, maybe this unexpected mishap would turn out to be the beginning of something new and exciting.

The act of crawling along the floor, reminded me of a time when I was hit by a car and left with both legs broken beside the road. While thinking of this I slid my hand between my legs and rubbed myself very softly. The wetness just flowed onto my panties and fingers. I remembered the feeling of helplessness and fear as I lay there alone, unable to move, reaching out desperately for my phone to call 911.

With a deep breath after my orgasm died down, I focused on the task at hand: getting back into my wheelchair safely. I first made sure to lock the brakes of the wheelchair, next, I positioned myself strategically, placing one hand on the armrest of the wheelchair and the other on the edge of the couch for support. I shifted my weight carefully, testing my balance before committing to the transfer. With a steady push, I lifted myself up slightly, using my upper body strength to guide myself into the seat of the wheelchair.

While thinking of the months in leg casts after being hit by the car, my thoughts turned to Hannah and her recent injury and using her crutches. I couldn't help but feel something new from the challenges she was facing with her recreational sprained ankle and reliance on crutches.

I recalled the sexual interest in her eyes as she wrapped her ankle and navigated the house on her crutches, her ankle wrapped securely to support the sprain. I wheeled into Hannah's room, my heart swelled with curiosity, she was deep asleep. I could see her injured ankle so lovely, wrapped securely in bandages with exposed toes, propped up on a pillow for elevation. Her crutches are leaning against the wall nearby.

The bandages around her ankle were pristine white, expertly wrapped to provide support and stability. For a second I imagined that I saw a huge bulge on the side of her broken and dislocated ankle where the fracture occurred, in my mind both her tibia and fibula were broken. So beautiful.

"Mom?"

"Hey, sweetheart," wheeling closer to her bedside. "How does the ankle feel?"

Hannah sighed, adjusting her position slightly. "It's okay, sore," she played alone so well.

I reached out to gently touch the bandages, her foot and lovely legs. "Do you need anything?" I asked while rubbing her lower leg, foot and cute exposed toes.

Hannah shook her head and stared at my fingers. "No, I'm good." she replied, she remained in control of her story.

"Maybe tomorrow I will take you for Xrays"

"Thanks, Mom. I'm sure it's just a bad sprain. I'll be back on my feet in no time," I leaned over to kiss her cheek but she took hold of my face and kissed my lips.

Leaving Hannah's room, the realization that Hannah shared some of my fetishes was totally intriguing . It brought up a wave of sexual complexity that I hadn't anticipated. On one hand, there was a connection, knowing that we had something unique in common. It was a rare bond that added depth to our relationship and sparked a curiosity about how much we truly shared, how far she would go to act on her fetish.

Should I acknowledge this shared interest with Hannah? Or should I leave it as a surprise, allowing her the space to explore and discover her own preferences sexually related to her need to be on crutches without any influence from me?

I wondered about these questions as I navigated through the house in my wheelchair. Part of me wanted to open up and have a candid conversation with Hannah about our shared fetishes, to bond over something so personal and intimate. But another part of me hesitated, unsure of how she would react or if she was ready to have such a conversation.

Leaving it as a surprise respected Hannah's privacy and allowed her the space to explore and understand without feeling pressured or influenced...

But I did have a plan...