Sweet Little Lucy Likes My Wheelchair

A “How I Spent my Summer Vacation” story
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JackassTales…tale # 50…Readers; for my 50th tale I decided to do something I rarely do. I took on a request for a story. A 21-yr-old lady I have been playing Private Message pattycake with (yes she knows I’m a Horny ‘Old’ Dog in a wheelchair who writes about young girls) sent the following request which I couldn’t resist. I hope she likes what I have written. I hope you do, too.
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I was wondering if you want to write a story about me sometime? You know like you fucking me as a little teen girl? Posting it? Well if you do, I have red hair, brown eyes, light skin that does tan, a few freckles and I giggle quite a bit. Not sure if you’re interested in this idea, but I would be honored to read it if you decided to write it. Um, I saw that one story you wrote for that girl and um, kind of was curious what you would write about me. Oh yeah also I like deepthroat and spanking. *Blushes shyly.* Lucy
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Sweet Little Lucy Likes My Wheelchair

Epilogue (The new girl next door)

One of these days, and I hope it’s pretty damn soon, I’m supposed to be able to get out of this wheelchair. At least, that’s what the doctors have told me. I have been assured this neuromuscular condition which affects my legs usually runs its course in two to five years. I’m at the four year mark right now.

I went back to the ledger filled with numbers I was trying to decipher. Shit, I was supposedly on a month-long summer vacation, yet here I was stuck inside trying to straighten out an almost indecipherable mess! As an independent accountant, I moved my office to my home so I could avoid the hassle of commuting into the city in my disability-equipped van. I hated the word ‘disability’ because it implies an inability to do anything. Hell, I can work, I can drive, I pay taxes, I compete in shooting matches, I can swim, and damnit, I can even walk short distances! I am an independent man of thirty two years in age and damn proud of it!

A movement outside my window distracted me. My mood lightened immediately. Out there on a tire swing my young neighbor girl was singing and swinging away. I hadn’t yet met Lucy, but I had met her divorced mother when they moved into the house next door earlier this week. I suppose the child had been visiting her dad but her mother had sung her praises as a sweet girl, a straight A student, and a virtuous child without a disagreeable bone in her body. All this and she was a kid of only sixteen years in age!

Fascinated by the unfettered joy and the unrestrained exuberance of the swinging child, I watched her instead of attending to my work. Naturally, since she was a female, no matter her age, my eyes began describing the girl to my captivated mind. Flowing strands of shimmering red hair blew in the breeze. Brown eyes sparkled in the noonday sun. A light-skinned face glowed with a slight early summer tan and was sprinkled with a very few freckles. The girl was giggling. In the little while I had watched, I discovered she giggled quite a bit.

The giggling swinger was clothed in a sleeveless summer top which was white in color. Thin straps running over her shoulders held up the mounds mounted on her chest. I don’t know much about the anatomy of young ladies her age, but I supposed those protrusions were good-zized breasts. I did know pretty legs when I saw them. This new neighbor girl’s legs sprang out of a pair of blue shorts and ran down slender, but not long, limbs and ended at barefooted, petite feet.

All in all, I’d say my neighbor kid Lucy was a pretty hot little package! I wasn’t surprised by the swelling in my pants, but I knew damn well I shouldn’t be having an erection while looking at a jailbait girl! Devil damn my wickedness, I need to stop looking and get back to work!

I picked up the ledger and my laptop, grabbed my chair’s joystick control, and then motored out to my backyard. I laid the ledger and computer on a patio table covered by an awning. Numbers come naturally to me so after an hour of steady work I had the chicken-scratch ledger straightened out into manageable documents.

Although I was finished working, numbers continued to run through my head. 4 foot 10 inches to 5 feet tall and maybe 85 to 95 pounds in weight… 16 years in age… 10 skinny, rope-holding fingers and 10 sexy, swinging toes… Maybe a 26 to 32 inch bust sitting atop a flat belly and a seductive crotch… Oh shit, I was still thinking about that pretty little girl next door!

Part One (Wanna give ‘it’ a whirl?)

“Mr. Jackson?” a soft voice said from beside me. “Sir, may I talk to you? Mama says you’re really nice and that you would probably be willing to help me with my summer vacation school project.”

Speaking of the devil herself, I spun my wheelchair around and came face to face with the girl child I’d been thinking about! The kid giggled then stuck out her hand and spoke again, “Hi, I’m Lucy.”

Automatically, I offered my outstretched hand to my young neighbor. Just as I suspected, the girl’s hand was warm, supersoft, and pleasant to the touch. Heck, it was almost too pleasant if you ask me! A horny guy my age had no business being aroused by an innocent teen girl!

“Hi yourself,” I replied despite my mind’s turmoil. “Why don’t you sit and tell me about this school project you have. If I can, I will gladly help you. Oh, and my name is, Jason.”

Lucy took a seat in a nearby chair and pulled a notepad from a bookbag I had not noticed. “Thank you, Mr. Jackson,” she said. “This is a report I have to do for my 11th grade high school social studies class starting in August. We have been studying about Freud in my 10th grade class and we will continue in the 11th grade. Over the summer we have to interview someone who might have a story related to his work and write a ten thousand word essay.”

“Freud?” I asked surprised. “Aren’t you a little young to be studying Freud? He talks about…well, ‘sex’…a lot, doesn’t he? And, young lady, whatever in this world would make you think I might have a sex story to tell?”

My redheaded neighbor’s fair skin face blushed a bit. She stuttered as she tried to answer. Finally, she pointed. It took me a few seconds to interpret her gesture, but then I realized she was pointing at my wheelchair. Oh my, was this girl child intuitive enough to realize a man might have sexual problems because of a physical limitation? Curious as a curiosity cat, I told the girl, “Sure thing. Go ahead and interview me.”

Softball, but very personal, questions came first. What was my condition, how long had I had it, what was my prognosis, etcetera. When the girl’s face reddened again, I knew the hardball questions were coming. “Mr. Jackson, do you have a wife or girlfriend to provide you with…with…‘companionship’?” she shyly asked. “Mama says she doesn’t think you do, so do you…do you miss…‘it’?”

I laughed aloud. My merriment was not from the question but from the easily recognized uneasiness and embarrassment of the questioner. The girl was in over her pretty, little head! And damnit, I thought, she started this so I’m not going to go easy on her!

“Lucy, by ‘it’ do you mean ‘sex’?” I replied. “Well, there was a time when I could get all the puss…all the female ‘companionship’ I wanted to from ladies of all ages. I will admit this damn wheelchair is a big ‘turn off’ in that respect. I lost my very passionate girlfriend for this reason.”

The girl at the table jerked her head up suddenly. She spoke vehemently. “The bitch!” she practically screamed. “She shouldn’t have left you for that reason! Your wheelchair is just a means of transportation, not a death sentence!”

Wow, this redhead has a temperamental streak. She also has an endearing compassion I have rarely seen in a child her age. “Thank you Lucy for defending me,” I said with genuine sincerity. “I really appreciate it.”

Before we became mired too deep into a pity-party for me, I decided to lighten the mood. “Girlie, don’t you worry too much about me,” I winked. I mischievously added, “Old Five Fingers and I do a fine job of pleasing me! I believe your fella Freud talks about masturbation and such. You ought to try it sometime.”

Just as I hoped, here came the giggling girl I was becoming smitten with. In between giggles the sweet, innocent child shattered my illusions about her by saying, “I already have tried it!” Immediately, she covered her betraying mouth, but her giggles continued despite her blushing grin.

When the merriment subsided, Lucy’s questioning continued. She stood and stepped uncomfortably close to me. Every fiber of my masculine body could feel her feminine presence. “May I ask you some questions about your wheelchair?” she inquired. “What’s this red button do?” she asked without awaiting my answer.

“Touch it,” I answered. I wasn’t sure she’d do it, but she did. An automotive horn’s blaring scream shattered the early afternoon quietness. Lucy jumped but recovered quickly. Without asking permission, the giggling girl touched or flipped other buttons and switches. Headlights turned on and off, turn signals clicked, an indoor buzzer buzzed, and then the back reclined with the footrests out just like an old man’s Lazy Boy recliner.

“I wouldn’t fool with this adjustable switch if I were you,” I warned. Of course, the child ‘had’ to touch it then. At one setting, a loud, catcall whistle at a pretty girl blew. Lucy giggled shyly. Then, a fart-horn blew. The girl blushed, but again giggled. The last setting was a voice shouting, “Get the Hell outta my damn way, stupid!” Lucy lost it in a fit of giggling laughter.

Before she touched it, Lucy did ask me what the tall rod sticking up out of the control box was. When I told her it was my ‘joystick’ she looked at me as if I were making some kind of Freudian reference to my penis. I giggled myself then explained that it made my wheelchair go forwards and backwards or any combination in between. “Wanna drive it?” I teased.