Wheelchair Sex Will Blow Your Mind (and everyone should try it)

Content Warning: trauma, fetishization, graphic sex

It’s been a whole ass year since I posted anything and I’m sorry! It was a doozy of a year professionally and personally. I ended a ten year relationship with my best male friend that I had a complicated relationship with (see #4 here) ; I was still reeling from that when a guy I had previously been in love with (see “At 24” here) returned then ghosted me in the cruelest way imaginable; I got my first boyfriend who taught me not only can I orgasm, but I can do it multiple times and other things; he’s trans so I learned I might be slightly queer; also he was married and I learned I’m not really as polyamorous as I thought I could be. There was an unbearable amount of pain this last year, and sometimes I was going about my day barely able to breathe around the literal heartbreak. I’ll say this multiple times on this blog: therapy. Is. Your. Friend. Because of the pain though I also experienced growth. I’m finally in a mental space where I can blog about everything I just mentioned. Start expecting posts this week. In the meantime, here’s a guest post…

The best thing about being fully vaccinated against COVID is being able to feel safe having sex with another vaccinated person (This is a joke, obviously––the best thing about being fully vaccinated is not being terrified of catching a virus that has a high probability of killing me, but the sex isn’t bad either). In all realness, though, asserting my body’s importance via sexual pleasure after a year plus of society telling my community our lives aren’t worth saving? Power moves. And yes, I’m going to talk about the beauty of having sex in my power wheelchair.  

There’s probably Too Much to be said about the intersections of past traumas and sexual fantasies, but suffice it to say that it didn’t take my teenage-self long to realize I have a medical fetish, likely caused by past experiences with doctors that impacted my childhood and young adulthood in (primarily) negative ways. There’s a whole other conversation to be had here about kink and bdsm and disability (yum), and fetishizing disability (not yum, but also if something is truly consensual, I’m hard pressed to be against it), but that’s a big bite to chew, and it’s inherently complicated and nuanced and messy, and so I’m not going to get into it for this post.

So, the medically-related fetishes. Have I acted any of them out in person? No. Have I role played them with sex friends online? You betcha. At some point I do want to experiment with a doctor role play in person, but haven’t found the right partner to do so (the right amount of freaky without any creepy). Luckily for me, I realized this fetish can still be satisfied in other ways, and one of them is by having sex in my wheelchair–for which I have to lean back in my wheelchair while my partner is above me, perhaps mimicking certain medical scenarios? IDK! But also, having my body pleasured in a mobility device that grants me a semblance of autonomy and is a key part of my identity? Super hot.

Let me introduce you to my COVID Safe Sex Bud. We were both moving at the end of the summer, were both relatively attracted to each other, and were both vaccinated. Perfect. A week or so after our first hookup, I shot them this text: I wanna try having sex in my wheelchair.

Ooo okay, they texted back. I think that’d be fun. It might give me an easier angle to fuck you, too 😉

I’m not going to be graphic with the details for the sake of gratuity (see D.F.T.’s previous post on this), but if you’re reading this you’re probably already wanting more stories of disabled people having sex that aren’t written in cringe-worthy ways, so here are some highlights. You know, for authenticity.

The minute COVID Safe Sex Bud got to my apartment and I’d bid my helper goodbye, we went straight to my bedroom and put on our sex playlist. Next came the positioning. I leaned back in my wheelchair next to my bed, while my CSSB stood against my bed and bent down over me as we started kissing. Soon, they were asking if they could take my pants down (I said yes), and slipping their hand down between my legs. “You’re really wet,” my CSSB told me. Uh, yeah.

Things progressed. We were (rudely) interrupted a few times by un-sexy music because my Spotify seemed hell bent on me not getting laid. But we carried on like sweaty sex soldiers, until I was sure I was about to see stars burst in front of my eyes. Fuck me this is the greatest thing since sliced bread, I (probably) thought. And then—

“I don’t think it’s working,” CSSB said. They slipped their fingers out of me* and stood back up. Huh?

“I don’t think it’s working. It’s too difficult of an angle for me to get inside of you.” Surely that wasn’t right, but because I was 1) more focused on the glorious sensations my vagina had just experienced and 2) still figuring out the never-ending puzzle that is communication and sex, I didn’t disagree with what my CSSB said.

“Okay,” I offered, “should we get in bed?”

They may or may not have provided me with certain dirty talk that I requested previously, and I may or may not have called them daddy with a lowercase d because capital D is strictly too straight for me and okay, yes, I came and my arms tingled for minutes afterwards. But I still couldn’t help wondering how much more powerful of an orgasm I would have had if I’d stayed in my wheelchair and stayed in the headspace afforded me by that physical position.

We lay in bed together afterwards and talked about weird music we both liked, and then they got me back into my wheelchair before I sent the “all clear homie, come on back” text to my helper.

“The stuff in my wheelchair was really fun,” I said as they were scooting my butt a bit to the right so that I was comfortable.

“I don’t think it was working, though,” they said. WILD.

Anyway, I hold no hard feelings for CSSB—we’re still friends who stay in touch every now and then from (now) nearly opposite sides of the country. I had fun sex with them, and I’m pretty sure they’d say the same thing about me.

But sex in my wheelchair? Yeah, that’s definitely not over. And next time, I’m making sure I say ahead of time that I’ve tried this before and that it works. Oh, does it work.

Moral of the story for you:

If you want to try a new sex position that integrates your mobility devices, tell your partner(s). If you try this new sex position and enjoy it, tell your partner(s). If they think it doesn’t work as well but you’re having a hell of a good time, tell your partner(s).

Moral of the story for the non-disabled reader:

Sexual arousal and fun is all about context, and if you’re having sex with a disabled individual, there might be something Really Fucking Hot to them about incorporating their mobility devices in your play. Keep this mind, and if they say they’re enjoying it, trust them.

*I haven’t had sex with someone who has a penis because I haven’t had the inclination to. But the sex I’ve had—oral, fingering, etc.—is still sex, full stop. Just like only allowing straight up PIV intercourse to qualify as sex hurts some disabled people who (for whatever reason) might not be able to have PIV intercourse but still have vibrant sex lives, this narrow definition of The Deed also hurts us queer folk.