So do you believe in destiny?
I had often flown over Canary Wharf in London on the way into Heathrow airport. As an architect, the modern buildings had always interested me, and I always intended to travel up to London from my home on the south coast to take a look around.
By the time I arrived at Canary Wharf DLR (Docklands Light Railway) station it was already late morning, and turning into a very hot summer day. I decided my first stop should be a café for a cold drink. This would prove to be the best decision of my life so far…
The café was very crowded, full of very cute young men and good-looking women, all dressed for business, smart suits, paperwork and mobile phones. I got a cold drink and sandwich as an early lunch before trying to find a seat. The only vacant seat I could see was at a table for two at the far side of the room. Lucky for me the guy already at the table was absolutely gorgeous, so I made straight towards him before I lost my chance to chat to him. I asked if I could use the free seat. The guy looked up with incredible bright blue eyes, smiled a smile that melted me and said, “Sure, help yourself.”
He was stunning! Light brown hair, a great jaw with just a hint of beard growth, really broad shoulders and very well muscled arms. He was watching rugby on a television screen up on the wall of the café, which gave me a chance to have a good look at this vision only two feet away from me. He was wearing a white shirt with the top button undone, and a red patterned tie which was pulled loose. Under his shirt was a white v-neck tee-shirt which revealed just a little blonde chest hair. His shirt sleeves were slightly rolled up, exposing lots more blonde hair on his large forearms, thick-set wrists and down onto the backs of his very large strong looking hands. Across his lap was the jacket from an expensive looking black pinstripe suit. As I discretely viewed the beauty before me I let my legs gently touch his, feeling my cock swell as I did so.
At that he looked away from the screen towards me. I almost jumped, thinking he was going to object to my touching him, but instead he asked if I followed rugby. I said I did, and we started to chat about the game on TV. After a couple of minutes he offered his hand saying, “Sorry, I should introduce myself. I’m Ben.” I shook his hand, feeling his strong grip, and introduced myself. We chatted for some time, and I almost forgot about how gorgeous Ben was, I was too busy thinking what a great guy he was. After about 15 minutes Ben looked at his watch and said he had to get back to his office. My heart sank a little. As we shook hands again I held onto his for as long as I dared. At that Ben reached down to his sides, and with a smooth movement of his arms slid back from the table. Oh my God, he’s in a chair! I realised. My heart skipped a beat, my stomach leapt with excitement, and my groin ached with pleasure. Stay cool, don’t look like an idiot, stay cool I thought, trying not to let my delight show on my face. He swung his jacket round his back and put it on, and did up his shirt and tie. If it was possible, he looked even more stunning now he was smartly dressed, but all I could do was try to play the situation cool.
Then Ben said, “I’d love to chat more, Rob. Would you like to meet some friends and me for a pint after I finish work?” I thought I might pass out soon, but managed to play it cool as I agreed and he explained where I should meet him at 5.30. As he left the café I watched from behind as his strong arms pushed effortlessly at the three spoked wheels of his very low backed black and chrome sports chair. And with that he was gone.
The rest of the day was a write-off as I wandered around or took a break sitting in the sun I could think of nothing but Ben, and how much I wanted him.
But was he gay? He certainly didn’t seem to be with his masculine manner, rugby player build and interest in sports, but then that could describe me. Was he just being friendly, did he fancy me, did he like me touching him? How could he mind--he’s a para. Or is he? There are endless other reasons to use a chair. Even if he is a para he could have feeling in his legs. And so the thoughts raced for the rest of the afternoon. Then I kept thinking even in a chair, no-one that cute was going to be single, so gay or straight I would probably meet his partner or wife at the pub later.
Eventually at 5.15 I found myself at the bar we had arranged to meet in. I got a beer and found an empty table. At 5.30 exactly Ben arrived, wheeling easily through the busy room. He waved to me as he went to the bar, got a beer and came over to me with the beer balanced between his thighs. By now Ben had quite a heavy but even growth of light brown stubble. His tie was now removed completely and his sleeves rolled further up so I got a better idea of how muscled and hairy he was. He sat at the end of the table, which meant I could see him sideways on. The conversation was easy and natural, and as we talked I surveyed the half of Ben that I hadn’t been able to see under the table in the café. His legs didn’t look too thin until you compared them to his very bulky upper body, more a lack of tone than wasted. They clearly never moved except when he shifted his weight and adjusted his feet on the rests of his chair, which he did every so often, almost as if it was an unconscious habit. Between his legs was the large bulge of some impressive privates, and pressed against the fabric of his trousers was the outline of his large cock. Not erect, but clearly large and firm.
As we chatted he became aware of me looking at his legs. “Are you wondering about the chair?” he asked. I replied that I wasn’t, but he said he didn’t mind explaining. I was embarrassed to be caught, but that sparkling smile of his soon put me at ease. He explained that he had used to play rugby, but had broken his back at T6 when someone had landed heavily on his back during a tackle six years ago. “I knew the risks and paid the price,” he explained philosophically, “but have never let it beat me, and have almost the same life as before.” He explained the area below the injury in which he had no sensation, feeling or movement whatsoever.
From about 6.00 onwards various friends of Ben’s arrived, we ate, had a few beers and chatted the evening away. As the bar became busier Ben transferred out of his chair onto the end of the bench I was sitting on. The barmaid then took his chair round behind the bar to save some space in the room. The feeling of his thighs against mine was electric, and I took advantage of his being preoccupied with conversation to let my left hand rest on his right knee under the table, sliding it up onto his thigh and giving it a little squeeze every now and then. The friends that had joined us were a great bunch, very much like Ben, and I discovered that we all had very similar interests and hobbies. From the conversation it became apparent that one guy was gay, but I still didn’t know about Ben, and I didn’t discuss my sexuality.
Towards the end of the night, Ben asked if wanted to crash at his place rather than get a night-train home. Apparently it was only ten minutes away by taxi. I happily agreed, his chair was returned, and a taxi was called. We said our goodbyes to the others, all of whom said we should meet again soon.
Ben clearly knew the driver, so I guessed he must use the same taxi regularly. The driver knew how to take the chair wheels off without help, and we were soon on our way through the docklands streets. Ten minutes later we had been dropped off in front of a converted riverside warehouse block. The windows at the opposite end of the entrance area looked straight out onto the river, and we entered a lift which Ben operated using a key rather than a button. At the top floor the door opened straight into the large modern living area of his apartment. With a slightly loft style feeling, the flat had marble floors, brick walls, heavy wooden beams, leather glass and metal furniture, halogen lights, ceiling fans and some serious art and sculpture. A corridor to one side led to my bedroom, and Ben showed me around the rest of the rooms, kitchen, laundry, dining, two other guest rooms, his bedroom, and a gym equipped with specialist wheelchair apparatus and free-weights. He asked me to go pour a nightcap, so I found the drinks in the kitchen, poured two large malts and went into the living area.
The apartment gave no clues about Ben’s sexuality, except perhaps that he was clearly interested in its interior as well as being a very stylish guy. A couple of minutes later Ben reappeared no longer wearing his shirt, the white tee-shirt really showing off his muscular body and broad shoulders. From behind I could see the muscles in his back and shoulders working easily as he wheeled over to where I had left his drink.
I followed him through some open doors onto a balcony overlooking the Thames, with Tower Bridge several hundred yards to the right, and the river curving away to our left. We sat in the still warm evening air looking out at the view for a little while before Ben said he had to go to bed as he had a meeting the next morning. He went inside, I finished my drink and went to my room.
Needless to say, I couldn’t sleep, but lay there naked in the dark thinking about the events of the day, and how I had ended up in the spare room of the most wonderful guy I had ever met.
Unable to sleep, I pulled on my underwear and walked quietly around the apartment, ending up back out on the long balcony which ran along the length of the living area, dining room, my room and Ben’s. I could see a gentle glow and light voile curtains blowing through the open sliding windows of Ben’s bedroom. I walked along and peered through the curtains. In the light of a small lamp I could see him asleep on top of the bed with just a sheet draped across his middle. By the bed was his wheelchair, and on the floor was a pair of white cotton loose fit boxer shorts.
I stepped quietly inside, and stood very still, my heart pounding so much I was sure Ben would wake up. After a moment I gently made my way over to the side of the bed, trembling slightly with excitement. Above the sheet I could see Ben’s broad shoulders and chest. A mass of beautiful blonde chest hair narrowed over his stomach, which clearly lacked tone despite being slim, then disappeared under the sheet. Below the sheet his legs, again clearly lacking tone but with broad knees and ankles, also covered in an even layer of curly blonde hair, with just a little on the top his feet. Beautiful big feet with soft looking skin, splaying out to the sides, with his toes gently curled under. By the bed was a leg bag with a tube that disappeared up under the sheet.
I so wanted to reach out and touch, then I remembered, the bar! He couldn’t feel me touch him. He had said so. Heart pounding like a drum, I reached out and placed my hand on the top of his foot. I slid it up his shin feeling the slightly coarse hair under my hand, and up the inside of his thigh. By now my dick was like a flagpole. I was so turned on I felt as though I was going to cum. Squeezing gently I felt the flesh of his thigh giving in to my grip. I slid my hand further, stopping just at the sheet, desperately wanting to go further, but somehow unable to. I lifted my hand up to his stomach, but stopped myself as I couldn’t be sure where I could touch without him feeling it. Instead I just stood watching his beautiful chest rising and falling as he slept, wishing I could get into the bed beside him. Suddenly he breathed out heavily startling me and making me leave through the doors as quickly as I could.
Needless to say I didn’t sleep well, thinking of Ben, and jerking off like never before. I was so horny!
When I did eventually fall asleep I was soon wakened by the sound of Ben moving around the apartment. I quickly dressed and went to the kitchen to find him in a red chair identical to the black one he had been using the day before, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a leg bag, and making breakfast. “I hope I didn’t wake you working out,” he said. “Scrambled eggs ok for you?” This was so surreal. Everything I dreamed about seemed to be happening to me, yet I still didn’t even know if this guy was gay or straight. While I finished my coffee Ben went to get dressed. He came back in the black chair wearing a plain charcoal grey suit, pale grey shirt, and a tie of various greys with touches of silver ad the same pristine black lace up shoes as the day before. This guy looked better every time I saw him.
“I’m taking the car to work today, so I‘ll drop you off at the station on my way if you like,” he said. I accepted and we took the lift to a basement car park, where he unlocked a very nice navy blue Audi S4 station wagon, with black leather interior. Then it struck me that one of the things I really liked about this guy was his confident understatement. Everything about him--clothes, house, car, wheelchair, even his friends--had a stylish, tasteful, elegant, quality, but also a very subtle air of confidence. Nothing brash or crass. I watched as he lifted his left leg into the foot well, slid his butt across to the seat, lifted his right leg in, and then dismantled the wheelchair to get it onto the back seat. I even enjoyed seeing how he drove using hand controls.
As we said our goodbyes our hands definitely held for far longer than usual, Ben said he’d like to see me again, and we swapped numbers. Did the word ‘see’ mean what I wanted it to? I felt sad as he drove off, and wondered if I ever would ‘see’ him again. By the time I got home there was already a message from Ben on my machine asking me to call to arrange a get together.
Over the next few months Ben and I spent a lot of time together and introduced our respective circles of friends. As our friendship grew, we discovered that we shared many interests and got on incredibly well. The one thing that was never discussed was sexual preference. The subject never came up, and somehow it didn’t seem too important.
Then one night we were at my house watching highlights of a rugby match over pizza and a beer on the sofa. Ben asked if he could lift his legs onto the sofa. It seemed a strange request as in the past he had always just done it without asking. He reached down, grasped his ankles and swung his legs round onto the seat cushion. As always I moved away slightly. Ben stopped and asked why I always did so, and I explained that I didn’t want to hurt him. He laughed saying that I couldn’t even if I wanted to, even if I touched his legs he wouldn’t feel it. I took this as an invitation, and jokingly punched his foot then swung my legs up so that they interlocked with his.
After a few minutes Ben picked up his leg and pushed it down so that his foot pressed into my balls. I was amazed, but delighted. I had the answer to my last question. He was gay. I took his foot and pressed it in harder, massaging it through his grey boot sock as I did so. I then slid my hand up inside his cargo trouser leg, running my fingers through the hair on his leg, massaging the very soft calf muscle. At the same time I pushed my foot between his legs. “Come on,” he said, “how about something I can feel?” I knelt up, undid the zip of my jeans, took his hand, pushed it inside and said, “Feel this.” I pulled my rugby shirt off, pulled Ben’s jumper off, pulled him to me, and felt the hard muscles in his body, as the hair on our chests rasped together. As we kissed and our tongues played with each other we rolled off the sofa onto the floor. We stripped quickly and were soon entwined in each other, running our hands all over each others bodies, feeling every inch of skin we could. I picked Ben up with my arms around his back and under his thighs, lifting his bulk easily, spurred on by the adrenalin rush, and carried him up stairs. He wrapped his strong arms around me and kissed me as I walked, his legs dangling uselessly over my arm.
I dropped him onto my bed, and climbed on top. It was wonderful. We rolled backwards and forwards taking turns to lead what was happening. To begin with I concentrated on the parts Ben could feel. We told each other what we wanted. We felt, tasted, smelled and enjoyed each others hot, sweaty, heaving bodies. Eventually Ben took my dick in his mouth, deep into his throat, and worked it good and hard, rasping his beard against my balls. I turned round so that I could do the same for him. He couldn’t feel it, but knowing I was doing it sure turned him on. Eventually I exploded into his mouth, my body shuddering and spasming. We kissed and I took some gis in my mouth. I then went down on Ben’s cock again, covering it in gis, running my tongue under his foreskin, sharing with each other.
Because Ben can’t cum, we went at it all night. Eventually, exhausted, we passed out in each other arms. Next day we woke to the beginning of our new life together.
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