Sex and the Silos Chapter 1

First, a disclaimer. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Furthermore, the characters, events and other scenarios depicted in this work of fiction do not represent the author's personal morals, values or beliefs. In other words, don't hate me if there are things in here that are not politically correct. In fact, there will be a lot of stuff in here that won't be politically correct, nor represent my own personal values. Otherwise it wouldn't be interesting, right?

Chapter 1: Ruth Lives Up To Her Promise
I don’t know what it was about her, but when Ruth came to breakfast at Panera Bread that morning I knew she was excited about something more than the cinnamon bread samples. She even skipped ordering her chai tea and bear claw to come join us at our usual table, the one in the back by the couch and the plug-in so that Justina, ever-attached to her computer, could plug in when necessary without draining her battery.

“You will not believe what happened to me last night,” Ruth said. “Okay, so I was in the middle of my parent-teacher conferences right, and it’s getting late and I’m waiting for my last conference—”

“Who was it for?” I asked.

“Well, it was for Dakota.”

“Dakota? The masturbator?”

“Yes, that’s the one. Anyway, her mom arrives first--they’re divorced--and sits down with me and we’re chit-chatting you know, not wanting to get into the down and dirty until the dad gets there. She’s telling me all about their divorce and how worried they’d been about how Dakota would handle it, and then the dad comes in.” She paused and nodded enthusiastically, the little-girl grin on her face begging us to ask for more.

“So then what?” asked Ann, who liked to get straight to the point of things.

“Well, he is really hot,” Ruth went on, “I mean hot like Matthew McConaughey hot. He had this kind of longish curly blond hair and this great smile and he smelled really good...I got nervous just looking at him. Then I realized I was going to have to talk to him about his daughter masturbating in class and I got even more nervous, wondering if I should use the word ‘masturbate’ or tell him she was “touching herself” or just allude to it with the old ‘inappropriate behavior’ cop-out and I can tell my face is getting red and I can feel my bowels starting to churn, oh my god, it was awful. I really need my tea,” she said, looking over at the counter.

“C’mon, finish the story and then get your tea,” I said.

“I’ll get your tea for you,” said Justina, who always liked to be of assistance.

“I want to hear the story,” I said.

“It’s really not a problem,” Justina continued. “It’ll only take a minute.” She gave me that look of sweetness combined with a genuine bewilderment as to why I couldn’t wait for Ruth to get her tea.

“Come on,” I said. “Obviously Ruth has some big news here, let’s hear it!”

“Okay,” Ruth started back up, “So we go through the usual pleasantries, then I pull out Dakota’s file and we start going over everything, her spelling, her math, her music....everything but the hands in her pants. Mom’s getting antsy because she has to go teach some Bible class or something and asks if there was anything else, so I went for it and told them.”

“How did you say it?” I asked. “What were the exact words you used?”

“Well, I said ‘I do have some concerns about some behaviors she’s exhibiting during film time.’ Mom looks puzzled and Hot Dad says, ‘What kind of behaviors?’ so I take a deep breath and just say, ‘Well, she’s been touching herself in her private areas.’”

“You didn’t really say that!” Ann says, laughing.

“Yes, I did, swear to god,” Ruth replies. “Anyway, the mom has this look of total shock and disgust on her face and says ‘Where would she have learned THAT?’ and looks over at Hot Dad. Hot Dad says, ‘Yeah, Jennifer, I’ve been teaching Dakota to masturbate. Jesus Christ.’ I explain that it’s pretty normal behavior, every kid figures it out on his or her own eventually and that we just have to find a way to keep her from doing it in inappropriate places. The mom glances at her watch and says something about working on it and then bails for the church thing. So it’s me and Hot Dad all alone in the classroom.”

“Oooh!” Justina said, her eyes sparkling. “Did you do it? Right there on the desk?”

Ruth rolls her eyes, tilts her head and purses her lips. “Do you really think I’d do it with a student’s dad during a parent-teacher conference?” She paused for a minute. “We waited until we’d had a few drinks at Flanigan’s,” she said lowly, leaning in for effect.

After the initial giggling and oh my gods were over with, Ruth leaned in again.

“Girls, I’ve done it,” Ruth says. “I’ve had sex with a man in a wheelchair.”

With only one cup of coffee behind us, we were momentarily stunned and confused. “Hot Dad’s in a wheelchair?” Ann asked with a hint of disbelief.

“Yep. He’s a full-fledged gimp!” Ruth said brightly.

Within the group, it was a well-known fact that Ruth was an equal-opportunity kind of woman. She had claimed, many times under duress from myself in particular, that physical disability or disfigurement would have no impact on whether or not she could be attracted to someone sexually.

"So...what happened to him? I mean, why is he in the chair?" I asked.

"He's a paraplegic," Ruth said matter-of-factly. "He was injured in a diving accident when he was 19."

"So what was it like?” Ann asked in that same ‘what the fuck’ voice.

“It was great! It was...pretty normal, really, but great!”

“How did you...” Ann moved her hands in a generalized simulation of groping and fondling. “...I mean...could he do it?”

“Well yeah, I’m sure he could do it,” Justina chimed in. “I had a stallion, remember Charlie? When he fell out of the trailer, his hindquarters were paralyzed but before we got him put down he still got hard-ons when the mares were around. Even when people are paralyzed they still have reflexes that can cause an erection, right?”

Ruth nodded. “I had no idea either. At first, when he asked me out for drinks, I figured it wouldn’t go any further than that so I wasn’t too concerned about it, but we kept talking and we were having a great time, and then he put his hand on my knee and this jolt just went through me and I knew he wanted to fuck me,” Ruth said. “I didn’t like, you know, want to say ‘what kind of sexual function do you have,’ you know what I mean? But I didn’t want to propose something that couldn’t happen either.”

“So how did you end up doing it?” Ann asked.

“Well, we went back to his house, which is really very nice,” Ruth said. “It’s got the most beautiful hardwood floors and a huge kitchen with this window that’s almost one entire wall. And his bathroom is amazing--it has this huge whirpool tub with a door on the bottom of it, kind of like a car door, so you can just open it and slide in, and a huge shower with a padded seat in it....”

“Yeah, yeah, get to the good stuff,” I interrupted her.

“So we go in and he wheels over to the kitchen and gets a bottle of wine and comes back to the living room where I’m sitting on the couch and pours me a glass. He looks at me and says, ‘I know this can be intimidating,’ and kind of motions toward his chair. ‘But trust me, I know what to do, and I have no problem showing you how.’”

“Ooooh!” Justina says again.

“So I said, great, I’m game!” Ruth said, and we all know that yes indeed, she really did say ‘I’m game.’ “He took my hand and pulled me over to him, and he leaned up and I leaned down and we kissed, and then we went to his bedroom and we did it.”

Ruth paused and smiled at us with pride. In Ohidoa City, things don't get much better than this, and Ruth knew it. A single girl in Ohidoa City usually had four choices: the white church-going sensitive sweater-wearer; the white tradesman; the white mid-level manager; or the white farmer. For a girl in Ohidoa, doing it with a farmer (or farm kid, as it were) was like getting your learner's permit--we'd all done it, usually by the age of 16, and truthfully it didn't take a whole lot of practice or talent. It was a hell of a lot easier than parallel parking, for sure.

Don't get me wrong, farmers have their merits (they have a lot of stamina, they're usually pretty open-minded and unflappable, and they also come with lots of fun stuff like outbuildings, hay lofts, and secluded homesteads on which you can frolic naked under the stars) but sometimes, well, sometimes you just need variety, and Ruth found it sitting in a chair right under her nose. The only way it could have been better is if Hot Dad was also black, European, and uncircumcised. Still and all, in Ohidoa City, hooking up with a paralyzed Matthew McConaughey lookalike was pretty damn impressive.

I cocked my head at Ruth. “You can’t just say ‘we did it,’” I say. “We need to know how, Ruth, you know that! Did he get a hard-on? Were you on the top or the bottom? Was it weird, I mean, how can he even tell what he’s doing down there?”

Ruth rolled her eyes but went on. “Okay, we got to the bedroom, he went to the bathroom for a minute, he came out and wheeled up to the bed and just lifted himself out of the chair and onto the bed with his arms. He’s got great arms.

Then he sort of scooched over to me, leaned on his elbow and started unbuttoning my dress and kissing me, you know, the normal stuff. We got undressed and just felt each other up basically —”

“Did he have a hard-on yet?” Ann asked, clearly fascinated.

“No, not yet, but I didn’t know what to expect so I wasn’t offended or anything. He really seemed to be enjoying himself so I was like, whatever happens happens, you know? It is what it is. So anyway, we go on like this for awhile, and then he says, ‘Get up on your knees,’ so I did it and he grabs one of my legs and just pulls it over his face and went at it. For 45 MINUTES. It was AWESOME! He never got tired, never got bored...he was totally into it the whole time. It was like he was totally in tune with my body--he’d stop when I got close and then start up again and kept me hanging for 45 MINUTES!” Ruth let out a wistful sigh. “Finally, he let me go and it was AWESOME.”

We all muse on this enviously, in silence.

“So then I said, ‘Now it’s your turn. What can I do for you?’”

“Awwww,” the rest of us say in unison.

“He said ‘take my cock in your mouth...’”

Justina giggled.

“It was still soft, but I did my best and pretty soon it started to firm up a little bit.”

“But could he feel it?” Ann asked.

“Well, I asked him afterwards, and he said he couldn’t really feel sensation like he used to, before the accident, but that seeing me down there was arousing and that his body just takes over. So anyway, I do this for awhile and he firms up and then he kind of pushes me back toward the bed and hoists himself up over my body and then we did it.”

“Did he come?” I ask.

“Well....I don’t really know, it was weird. He was really into it, you know, and we were really going at it, and then he asked me to lick his chest and when I did, he kind of did that grunting thing like men do when they come and then it was over.”

“Did you ask him if he came?” Ann asked.

“No, I didn’t want to make him feel bad if it didn’t happen, you know. But it certainly seemed like he had some sort of...release.”

“I cannot believe you fucked the masturbator’s paralyzed father,” I said, and we all laughed.

“I told you I would have sex with a gimp, Lynn,” Ruth said triumphantly. “It just so happened that I never had the opportunity until last night. And it wasn’t like a sympathy fuck or anything like that, this guy is HOT. We’re going out again tonight.”

Then she got up and headed over to the counter for her chai. We sat in stunned silence for awhile. I think we were all still thinking about those magical 45 minutes.

“Wow,” Ann said.

“Yeah,” I said.

“I think I could use some of that," Justina sighed.

Ruth returned with her tea. “So,” she said. “What did you guys do last night?”

* * *