I’ve always been a little bit different, even for an 18-year-old. I have this thing, an attraction to people with physical disabilities, specifically those who use wheelchairs. It’s called Abasiophilia, and I didn’t even know it was a real thing until I stumbled upon it online.
I’ve had a crush on my high school teacher, Mr. Thompson, for a while now. He’s young, smart, and uses a wheelchair due to an accident a few years back. I couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, and I knew I had to find a way to be with him.
At first, I tried to resist my desires. I thought it was wrong to be attracted to someone because of their disability, but I couldn’t help the way I felt. I decided to do some research on Abasiophilia and how to approach the situation respectfully. I didn’t want to come off as insensitive or fetishistic, I genuinely cared for him.
I started wearing shorter skirts and sitting closer to him during class. I’d make small talk and laugh at his jokes, and I could see the spark in his eyes. I knew he was attracted to me too, but I couldn’t be sure if it was because of my crush on him or because of my Abasiophilia.
Months went by and I continued to tease and flirt with him. I’d leave notes in his mailbox, inviting him over for dinner, and I could see the curiosity in his eyes when he read them. I knew he wanted to take the bait, but I could also sense his hesitation.
On the night of my graduation, I decided to make my move. I showed up at his house, dressed in a tight red dress that hugged my curves. I knocked on the door, and when he answered, I could see the desire in his eyes.
I walked inside and made myself comfortable on his living room couch. I crossed my legs and leaned back, giving him a view that he couldn’t resist. I could see him staring at me, his eyes filled with lust.
“I’ve wanted you for so long, Mr. Thompson,” I said, my voice sultry and seductive.
He hesitated for a moment, but then he rolled his wheelchair closer to me. I reached out and touched his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine.
“I’ve wanted you too, Roni,” he said, his voice low and deep.
I leaned in and kissed him, my lips pressed against his. He responded enthusiastically, his tongue exploring my mouth. I could feel the heat building between us, and I knew this was it.
I climbed onto his lap, my legs straddling him. I could feel his hardness pressing against me, and I knew he wanted me just as much as I wanted him.
I reached down and undid his pants, freeing his cock. I stroked it gently, feeling the length and girth of it in my hand. He moaned with pleasure, his head thrown back.
I climbed off of him and positioned myself in front of him. I lowered myself onto his cock, feeling it fill me up. I started to ride him, my hips moving in time with the rhythm of my breathing.
He grabbed onto my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh. I could feel the orgasm building inside of me, and I knew I was close. I leaned forward, my breasts pressed against his chest.
“I’m close, Mr. Thompson,” I whispered in his ear.
He thrust up into me, harder and faster. I could feel the orgasm taking over my body, and I let out a loud moan as I came.
He followed soon after, his cock twitching inside of me as he came. I collapsed onto him, my head resting on his shoulder.
“That was amazing, Roni,” he said, his voice filled with exhaustion and pleasure.
“Yes, it was,” I said, smiling up at him.
I knew that this was the start of something new and exciting. I was no longer ashamed of my Abasiophilia, and I was ready to embrace it. I was ready to be with the man I had desired for so long, and I was ready to explore the depths of my desires with him.
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