Wheelchair Juggalo

I’ve always wanted to blow loads on both suicide scars and either an amputee or cripple. With J I was given a chance to cross the last off my list. She still had her appendages but thank god she couldn’t move them. As with almost all weird sex in my life its origin was a dating site. I used it to look for laughs under my fake account of a pregnant teen with seven fingers. She washed her acne-riddled face with detergent, sucked dog dicks, and greedily ate the feces of married men.


But I also had a real account and that’s the one J found me under. At first I wasn’t interested because she seemed pretty Christian. In scrolling through her photos I learned she was in a wheelchair. That and the fact that she was solely interested in sex intrigued me.

I was fresh off thinking I was in love and needed to separate myself from emotion. After banging around I grew bored. Was now more interested in sex for the story. My fucked up checklist. I’d never slipped it in a cripple. J was kinda cute but I was only interested in her disability. I told her as much and she was fine with that fact. I wasn’t the first to fuck her because she couldn’t walk. We made arrangements to meet.

J lived with her parents. They scrutinized her every move despite being in her 20s. Because of the chair she couldn’t sneak away at night. I couldn’t bring her to my place due to probing roomies and daytime hours being the only ones in which she was free. We thought of alternative locations. She mentioned how the last time she did this the guy brought her to a park and fucked her in the backseat. That sounded fine even though it was daytime. I didn’t wanna wind up on the sex offender registry for something as silly as this. But I can be a bit reckless so said fuck it. I prepped my car, made a bed in the backseat, and drove to her place.

Once there I realized she couldn’t come out on her own. I just assumed she’d be waiting. This was a rush job and we hadn’t finessed the details. I didn’t dare knock for fear the parents might answer. I sat in my car and waited. J didn’t have a phone and mine was basic so there was no way to contact her. It seemed she couldn’t leave or was standing me up. If the latter it’d be the only standing she’d done in twenty years. After waiting an hour I took off, upset I’d lost the chance to cross cripple off my list. Months later I wrote to J and we decided to try again.

The second time I came for J she was in a different location. It was closer than the other place. She said she’d meet me on the slab. I pulled up to the house whose garage was open. In there sat J with a woman in her fifties behind her. I assumed this was her mom and felt awkward. Fuck. I swallowed my fear and stepped out. I was picking up this woman’s daughter at night to fuck her. Now here she was wheeling her out to me. I said hi to both as if this were normal.

We deliberated how to transfer J to my car. Her chair was push not electric. It was decided she’d leave it at home. I scooped J with an arm under her legs and another at her back. With this I lifted up then sat her in my front seat. I’d never picked up an adult like this. It wasn’t easy but we made it. I was surprised at how nonchalant her mom was about the situation. She only said to call as we got back so she could assist with the transfer. J told her mom she’d return in a few hours.

Once we got going I asked if her mom knew what was happening between us. J told me that wasn’t her mom but a caretaker. She now lived in a group home closer to her college. I was relieved. The caretaker didn’t care what she did or who stuck their dick in her.

Things were fine on the drive to my place. We mostly spoke of the miscommunication we’d had last time and that it was cool this was working out. I parked a half block from my place and kept the car running. I went in to scope things out. There was no one around which was good. I didn’t want to get caught carrying a cripple to my room. I wasn’t embarrassed but also didn’t feel like explaining the situation or telling an obvious lie. I propped open my bedroom door and the front of the house. Then I went back to retrieve J.

She was small and I did my best but still it was an awkward hold. I told J not to worry, that I’d get her in safe. I held her tight and kicked the car door shut. I hoped my snoop neighbors wouldn’t see us. J gave me pointers as she knew her needs best. She only weighed a hundred pounds but that was distributed over a whole body. It was hard to hold. If she fell I’m sure we’d need an ambulance. I carried her fast and with a death grip. I got her through the front door just as one of my roomies stepped out. I walked by her holding J, me staring straight ahead. Fuck. I’d been spotted.

We stepped into the space I called my own. My room, sparse and scuzzy, only had a floor mattress. I crouched with J in my arms to set her down. I propped her upright on a pillow with her back against the wall as she told me to. She asked if I had a bottle for her chewing tobacco. She clumsily pulled a tin from her purse and stuffed a wad between cheek and gums. I pondered if I’d send my tongue on an exploratory mission to touch the cud.

J placed the tin back in her purse. She had nominal movement in her hands but little more. It was as if her fingers grasped at something but locked halfway through the motion. I gave J an empty bottle of 7-Up. She spat brown liquid to the green container. Her drool of chaw pooled at the bottom. I’d never kissed a girl chewing snus but it seemed this would be a night full of firsts.

I set the mood with a candle, low lights, and some tunes off my computer. Finally I sat beside J for the prerequisite bullshit before we got to business. I didn’t know much about her so wasn’t sure where to start. She said she had a boyfriend but didn’t like him. They were fighting because she’d had a threesome with him and their best friend. Now he was jealous even though the idea was his. She spit another drool of chaw to the bottle. I loved how scuzzy this whole situation was becoming. Then it got better.

She said her and her man were fans of the Insane Clown Posse (ICP). J asked if I’d ever heard of Juggalos. I was all too aware of the rap group ICP and their tight-knit following of fans aka Juggalos. My drug addicted, Hep-C positive, prison tat artist of a cousin had been one his entire life.

At family gatherings we’d pass the Walkman playing ICP’s white trash rap songs. When I was thirteen I loved their profane screeds of killing people and fucking animals. Now in my late 20s I still found them amusing but also knew they were the soundtrack to incest and meth. I didn’t take them seriously like J did. For her it was a lifestyle. She was a Juggalo. Her boyfriend was a Juggalo. Their friends were Juggalos. The purse holding her chew was emblazoned with a symbol of the band.

I recalled how I once looked up the tenets of being a Juggalo. One was to never wipe your ass. I hoped J wasn’t a strict adherent to the cause. She had me pull them up on Youtube. It seemed songs about shoving two liters of cheap pop up your ass would be the soundtrack to our sex. I didn’t mind.

We started making out and she tried pulling off her shirt. J had partial use of her hands but needed my help to roll the top off her. Her back and torso were covered in old scars that I assumed came from surgery. I hoped she’d let me run my cock across them. She motioned for me to remove her bra. Soon I had her in my mouth. I kissed up and down between breasts and lips. I found little pieces of chew on my tongue once they’d passed from her mouth to mine. It seemed she was set to keep the cud in her mouth. It tasted sweet.

J did her best to pull off my shirt and again I obliged in helping. I asked if I could take off her bottoms and she let me. Her legs were locked in a near sitting position. She had limited ability to unhinge them, even with my help. It was a struggle to remove her bottoms but we did it. I then pulled off my own. I was too timid to rub myself across the scars, fearing I’d offend her. But we were both naked so carried on. She took me in her mouth as I put fingers in her. I smelled my hand and it reeked of pee. I assumed she had a tough time wiping due to her disability. I pulled the fingers from my nose and slipped them back in.

Once foreplay concluded I slapped on a condom and laid her on my bed. Because of her bottom being locked in such an odd position it was hard to enter. We’d try a few things and when they didn’t work she’d ask for the 7-Up bottle. Through the green tint her brown drool looked like the shit of an infant.

Finally I found a way in her but it was hard to maintain. She said the only person to fuck her at length was her boyfriend, that even he had a tough time. Looking around my room I devised a solution. I pulled the crap off my nightstand and set her on it. The table was scrawled in marker. These scrawls were obscenities about shooting a load in the devil’s pussy. I don’t think she noticed. I stood and went inside her. Things more or less went well.

After a bit of banging on the stand I put her back on the bed, once more propped to the wall. I fingered J ’til she came in a loud, gasping manner. I wondered if my roomie could hear us. I was playing ICP to cover the noise but her moans emitted with power. I didn’t know my roomie well. Though she’d heard me have sex with others this was gonna be a toughie to explain. After J was done cumming she was happy and once more put me in her mouth. I shot across her tonsils. She spit up a mix of semen and snus.

We bullshitted a bit but it was time for her to go home. I turned off the ICP and carried her out, once more almost dropping her. It was like lugging an heirloom I didn’t dare break. I never asked J what happened to her or if she was born this way. I’m sure she’d fielded that question endless times. I drove her back and the caretaker met us at the driveway. J told me she’d call soon.

I returned home and found the 7-Up bottle beside my mattress. I shook it to watch the spit and semen mix together. This was the only remnant of our night. I never heard from J again. Once was enough for the both of us.

11 thoughts on “Wheelchair Juggalo

  1. Okay. When I first read the title, I was like wtf… I’m still like wtf after reading this 😂 but at least I now understand the title and it’s insane clown posse reference.

    I think you’re going to hell, sweetie 😏

    Lonely Girl.


  2. Apparently cripples need sex too. I’ve never done it with a cripple but my husband was born crippled. He had several surgeries while small and has been walking since about the age of 4 (long before we met).

    Liked by 1 person

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