I still get hard every time I hear the first notes of “What a Feeling.”
Two years ago my wife Jenna crashed her motorcycle on a rainy night. T10 complete paraplegia. Beautiful, long legs that used to wrap around me like a vice now hang soft and still. She rolls everywhere in a sleek black carbon-fiber wheelchair she named “Bitch.” Upper body stronger than most guys I know. Abs you could bounce a quarter off. Tits that still make me stupid. And a mouth that could make a saint renounce God.
She never once let the chair steal her fire.
Last Saturday night she proved it in the most filthy, loving, flashdance way possible.
It started with a text at 3 p.m.
Jenna: Be home by 7. Clear the living room. Put the big speakers on. Wear the black jeans I like. And baby… bring the boys. All three of them.
Me: Boys?
Jenna: Jason, Mike, and Carlos. Tell them to bring condoms if they want, but I want to feel them raw.
Me: Jesus, Jen.
Jenna: Flashdance night, husband. Your wheelchair hotwife is ready to perform. Don’t you dare deny me.
I almost came in my pants right there at work.
I texted the group chat. All three guys replied within minutes with fire emojis and “fuck yes.” Jason has been my best friend since college. Mike and Carlos are the married guys from poker night who’ve always stared a little too long at Jenna’s legs when she transfers. They’ve all seen the soft porn videos she lets me film of her — Jenna in the chair, spreading her paralyzed thighs with her hands, fingering herself while she stares at the camera and says “come put it in your crippled wife.” They’ve jacked off to them. Tonight they were getting the real thing.
I got home at 6:40. Living room already cleared. Couch pushed back. Big open space. Dim red lights. The smell of her jasmine body oil and sex already in the air.
Jenna was in the bedroom finishing up. When she rolled out I almost dropped to my knees.
She had on a white off-the-shoulder sweatshirt (exactly like the Flashdance one) that barely covered her tits, no bra. Tiny black dance shorts that were basically a thong. Black knee-high socks. Her long dark hair in a high ponytail. Makeup heavy — smoky eyes, glossy lips. And the chair: she’d put shiny black spokes covers on it and hung little silver chains from the armrests that tinkled when she moved.
She spun a tight circle in front of me, stopping with her wheels almost touching my shoes.
“Like what you see, husband?” Her voice was low and dirty. “Your paraplegic wife is about to dance for you like she’s never danced before. Then she’s going to fuck every man in this house while you watch. That okay with you?”
I could only nod. My cock was already tenting my jeans.
She rolled closer, grabbed my belt, and yanked me down so our faces were inches apart.
“I want you to film everything. I want the devotees online to see how wet a wheelchair girl gets when she takes four cocks. And I want you to come on my face when they’re done filling me. Deal?”
“Deal,” I croaked.
The doorbell rang. She grinned like a devil.
“Go let the boys in, baby. Tell them the show starts in five.”
They walked in looking nervous and hard already. Jason, tall and thick. Mike, the quiet one with the big hands. Carlos, dark and cocky, already adjusting himself.
Jenna rolled into the living room like she owned the fucking world.
“Gentlemen,” she said, spinning slowly so the chains chimed. “Welcome to Flashdance night. My husband is going to film. You three are going to watch me dance. When I say ‘now,’ you can touch. When I say ‘fuck me,’ you fuck me. No holding back. I can’t feel my legs, but I can feel everything from the waist up, and I want it rough. Questions?”
Silence. Just heavy breathing and the sound of three guys adjusting their dicks.
She rolled to the center of the room, hit play on the remote, and the opening piano of “What a Feeling” filled the house.
And then my wife danced.
God, she danced.
She started slow — rolling in wide circles, arms raised, torso undulating like a snake. The sweatshirt slipped lower with every turn until one perfect pink nipple popped free. She didn’t fix it. She just kept spinning, head thrown back, ponytail whipping. The chains on the chair rattled like dirty wind chimes.
She stopped suddenly, planted her hands on the armrests, and pushed up into a full lift, holding her entire body weight with pure upper-body strength, legs dangling. Then she dropped back down hard, the impact making her tits bounce.
The music swelled.
She yanked the sweatshirt over her head and threw it at me. Bare tits. Hard nipples. She cupped them, pinched, and moaned loud enough to be heard over the song.
Then the shorts. She hooked her thumbs, lifted her ass with her arms, and peeled them down her dead legs. She had to work them off carefully, rolling her hips, fingers sliding over her smooth shaved pussy. When they finally came free she flung them at Carlos. He caught them and immediately brought them to his face and inhaled.
Jenna was naked except for the knee-high socks and the wheelchair.
She started the real dance.
She rolled hard, spinning circles, then stopped and did this filthy upper-body wave that made her tits roll. She leaned way back over the push handles, arched, and ran both hands down her stomach to her pussy. Two fingers disappeared inside while she kept rolling slowly with one hand.
“Fuck, look how wet she is,” Mike whispered.
She was. Her fingers came out shiny and she painted her nipples with her own juice.
The chorus hit and she went feral.
She locked the brakes, planted both hands on the armrests, and did rapid little thrusts of her hips like she was fucking the air. Then she unlocked and started racing around the room in tight figure-eights, ponytail flying, tits bouncing, laughing like a maniac. She’d stop on a dime, spin 360, and drop into a deep crouch in the chair, legs splayed open so we could see everything — pink, swollen, dripping.
I was filming on my phone, cock aching.
She rolled right up to Jason, grabbed his belt, and pulled him between her open thighs. Still dancing in place, she rubbed her face against the huge bulge in his jeans, then looked up at him with big dirty eyes.
“Take it out,” she ordered.
Jason freed his thick cock. Jenna licked a long stripe from balls to tip, then took him deep while still rolling her upper body to the music. She bobbed on him in time with the beat, gagging wetly, spit running down her chin onto her tits.
Then she pushed him away and rolled to Mike. Same thing. Deepthroat while dancing. Then Carlos. By the time she finished with him the song was ending and all three men were rock hard and shiny with her spit.
She spun back to the center, breathing hard, eyes wild.
“Now,” she said.
They swarmed her.
I kept filming.
Jason dropped to his knees and buried his face in her pussy while she was still in the chair. Mike and Carlos stood on either side, feeding her their cocks one after the other. She took them deep, switching, moaning around the meat while Jason ate her like a starving man. Her hands gripped the armrests so hard her knuckles went white. Even though she couldn’t feel her legs, her whole upper body was shaking with every orgasm Jason licked out of her. She came twice in under three minutes, gushing on his face, screaming “fuck yes, eat your crippled hotwife’s cunt!”
When the first wave passed she pushed them back and ordered, “Transfer. Floor. Now.”
I know how she likes it. I helped. We lifted her carefully out of the chair and laid her on the thick rug. She immediately spread her dead legs wide with her hands and said, “Jason first. Fuck me while they watch.”
Jason didn’t need telling twice. He sank into her in one long stroke. She was so wet it made a filthy squelching sound. He started pounding her hard, holding her thighs open. Every thrust made her tits bounce and her head roll.
“Harder,” she snarled. “I can’t feel it in my legs but I can feel you stretching my pussy. Give it to me.”
He did. Skin-slapping, ball-slapping, raw fucking. Mike and Carlos stroked themselves on either side of her face. She turned her head left and right, licking and sucking them while Jason wrecked her.
I filmed every second. My wife, paralyzed from the waist down, taking cock like a porn star, loving every second of it.
Jason came with a roar, pumping her full. When he pulled out, thick white cum immediately started leaking out of her. She reached down, scooped some up, and licked her fingers clean while looking straight at the camera.
“Next,” she said.
Mike took her next. He flipped her onto her stomach (we helped position her), put a pillow under her hips so her ass was up, and fucked her doggy-style. Her face was turned to the side, cheek on the rug, mouth open in a permanent moan. Carlos knelt in front of her and fed her his cock. She sucked him messily while Mike hammered her from behind.
“Tell them how much you love it,” I ordered, still filming.
“I love it,” she gasped between thrusts. “I love being your wheelchair hotwife. I love getting filled while I can’t move my legs. I love knowing every man in this room is going to use me. Fuck me harder, Mike. Fill me up like Jason did.”
He did. Second load of the night pumped deep into her.
Carlos was last of the three. He wanted her in the chair again.
We transferred her back. She locked the brakes, scooted her ass to the edge of the seat, and held her own thighs open with both hands. Carlos stood between her wheels and drove into her. The angle was perfect. He fucked her so hard the whole chair rocked and the chains clinked. She came again, screaming, upper body thrashing.
When he was close she begged, “Pull out and come on my tits. I want them shiny for my husband.”
He did. Thick ropes across her chest and neck.
Then it was my turn.
The boys stepped back, still hard, watching. Jenna looked at me with pure love and pure filth in her eyes.
“Come here, husband. Fuck your Flashdance girl. She’s already full of their cum. Make it four.”
I stepped between her wheels, dropped my jeans, and sank into her. She was sloppy and hot and perfect. I could feel the other loads squishing around my cock. I fucked her deep and slow at first, then hard, hands on her waist, using the chair for leverage. She locked her arms around my neck and kissed me while I pounded her.
“I love you,” she whispered against my mouth. “I love being your dirty crippled wife. I love that you let me do this. Now come inside me. Breed your paraplegic hotwife.”
I did. Long, pulsing spurts deep into the mess already there.
When I pulled out she was overflowing. Cum running down the seat of her wheelchair.
She looked at the three of them, still hard, and smiled.
“Round two, boys. I can go all night. Who wants my mouth while someone else fucks me again?”
They all did.
We spent the next two hours using every position the chair and her body would allow.
- Her in the chair, bent forward over the armrests, taking one from behind while sucking another.
- On the floor on her back, legs held open by two of them while the third fucked her face.
- Sitting in someone’s lap in the chair, bouncing on cock while the other two stood so she could stroke and suck.
- Me under her on the floor while she rode me reverse cowgirl (using pure arm strength to lift and drop) and the others took turns feeding her their cocks.
- One more time with her back in the chair, all four of us standing around her, jerking off onto her face and tits while she fingered herself and begged for it.
By the end she was a wreck. Hair ruined. Makeup ruined. Covered in cum. Chair covered in cum. Still smiling like she’d just won the lottery.
We cleaned her gently. I carried her to the shower (bridal style, the way she likes) and washed every inch of her while she sat on the shower chair. The guys helped towel her off and get her into clean pajamas. Then they left with grateful handshakes and promises to come back whenever she wanted.
I put her to bed. She pulled me down next to her.
“Did you get good footage?” she asked sleepily.
“Every second.”
“Good. Upload the best parts tomorrow. Tag it wheelchair hotwife flashdance. I want every devotee on the internet to know what a real paraplegic wife can do when she’s horny and loved.”
I kissed her forehead.
“I love you so fucking much, Jenna.”
She smiled, eyes already closing.
“I know. That’s why I dance for you. Now get some sleep. Tomorrow I’m making you push me to the park and then I’m going to suck you off under a blanket in public. Your move, husband.”
I lay there in the dark listening to her soft breathing, my cock already twitching again, and thought the same thing I always think:
Best decision I ever made was marrying a woman who can turn a wheelchair into the sexiest fucking thing on earth.
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