This is quite simply one of the best stories I have ever been told. I am happy to be able to re-tell it to you now. Society celebrates sexuality. More specifically, society celebrates sexuality for the able bodied. I’ve repeated the following anecdote many times on this blog and I’ll repeat it again. The first time that I interviewed a man with a physical disability, I fully expected him to tell me a crap story. I expected the story to be as limited as the length of Charlie Thomas’s arms, shortened as they sadly had been by a drug called Thalidomide. On the contrary, Charlie Thomas told me one of the finest virginity loss stories I had ever heard. More fool me.
Today’s story is a bit different because Ash’s disability is such that there is little he can do without some assistance, hence the help needed – and provided - by his faithful assistant in order to hit the jackpot so to speak. His assistant is not the only guardian angel in this scenario. Ruby, the woman who helped usher Ash into so called ‘man hood’ also brings to light another uncomfortable truth. Sex workers do some incredibly valuable work. You will only need to read the first few paragraphs of this story to understand how and why this is.
Quite apart from anything else, this story is a sobering reminder of how much most of us have to be thankful for. The ability to get around and about is not a god given right but it is something that most of us take for granted. Virginity has always been a difficult thing to dispense with - for a whole host of different reasons, some of them physical and some of them mental – but most of us do at least possess the ability to walk into a room and lie down on a bed. (Or perhaps even a garage floor… as in the owner of last week’s story). Arise Mr Mojo.
Ash. British, early thirties. Lost his virginity last week.
‘This is the story of how I, a severely disabled man in my thirties, recently came to lose my virginity to a sex-worker.
Having had a neuromuscular disability from birth, my life has taken a different path to most able-bodied people. I have a graduate degree and an ongoing professional career, and given the debilitating nature of my disability this is a decent achievement. I am also well liked by most people that meet me. However, I am somehow in the situation where I only have a few friends, none of whom are particularly close, and a poor social life. I have also never had any positive attention from the opposite sex that would suggest that I was fanciable, despite getting on with girls when I am in their company and making them laugh. Any time I have found the confidence to make my interest in a girl known to them, I have been met with polite rejection.
Over the past few years, the gradual deterioration in my physical abilities has accelerated. Abilities such as moving my hand across a short distance has become more difficult and in some cases impossible. I often lose my balance and flop over to one side of my wheelchair. Eating, even breathing, is a struggle. As bit by bit I lose each of those skills, I face up to the fact that in all probability I am in the final few years of my life. I do not fear death itself, and I have never expected to live to a ripe old age. But I feel incomplete and lonely, and that is not how I want to be when I die. In recent months I have found myself trying to troubleshoot this problem, and have come to the conclusion that before I can succeed in forming a connection with another person I need to find a way to better connect with my own humanity. To do that I need to embrace myself as a sexual person; not the unattractive, defective lump I usually identify with, but as a unique and desirable individual. My virginity was making this impossible to do – without a sexual or sensual experience to draw upon I wouldn’t be able to move forward with this plan.
After much deliberation and research, I decided to pay an escort to help me with this. I emailed a girl called Ruby to introduce myself and received a very positive response. Over the next few days I thought about it further and considered the practicality and even the morality of this decision. I plucked up the courage to speak to my personal assistant, Sam, whose support and understanding I would need. This I got. I phoned Ruby to confirm a date and time a few days ahead. Fast-forward through the excruciatingly anxious intervening period to the big day...
I was sitting on my bed waiting when I heard the doorbell ring. The anxiety turned to nervous excitement. She was here, and moments from now I would get my chance to experience being with a woman. And I knew that within the hour, assuming my body didn’t fail me yet again, I could stop identifying as a ‘virgin’.
Sam ushered her into the living room and asked her to wait while he checked on me. He came to me, smiled wryly and commented that she looked very nice, and made sure I was ready to receive her. After maybe 30 seconds that seemed like an eternity, Ruby popped her head through my bedroom door, smiled and came in closing the door behind her. She was wearing a pretty black dress and came in laughing because Sam had told her: ‘He’s all yours!’ She gave me a brief kiss on the lips to start with and from that point on I was completely ready for anything – as that kiss was the most intimate moment I’d had in my life up to that point. I remember thinking how moist her lips were and how they just slipped and slid over mine. It felt so pleasant and natural; the sensation was unique.
I asked her how she was (just small talk) and directed her to the envelope of cash on my desk which she promptly opened and quickly counted. I was a bit surprised. I thought she would make some excuse about needing to freshen up in the bathroom, as a ruse to count the money in the private. That’s what escorts do on TV anyway! It felt slightly weird, but it only lasted a few seconds so I didn’t have time to dwell on it.
After talking for a few moments and breaking the ice she said I would probably want her to get out of her dress so I could see the goods. And with a sexy little shake and a smile she slipped out of her dress to reveal her lingerie underneath. I was really enjoying this, albeit with the slightest frustration that because I was lying almost flat on my back on the bed and she was stood just off to one side my view wasn’t perfect to fully admire every detail.
She then started to unbutton my shirt and, with a bit of instruction from me as to how to move my arms, she took it off. I thought this would be more difficult and had intended that I would keep my shirt on, just unbuttoned so she could caress my chest. But I was glad it was off. She then slid down my trousers which I had deliberately not had fully pulled up when I was getting dressed for her. When they were off I was pretty pleased with myself for having chosen my clothes successfully for ease of removal! I was now completely naked, and loved this. It’s not like I haven’t been naked in front of women before, but they’ve all been nurses or carers, or my mum. This time it was different. I was naked to receive pleasure.
Ruby then began to get out of her lingerie.
First she removed her bra, revealing beautiful round breasts and pert pink nipples. I mean, they try to teach you as part of sex education on TV that a ‘real woman’s’ breasts are not like you see in porn, symmetrical and firm with small and perfectly round areola. Well, Ruby’s breasts were exactly like that. Just like in my fantasies. She brought one of her nipples towards my mouth and I rolled my lips and my tongue over it. Then she did the same with the other nipple. I had thought that breasts would be softer, spongier, but they felt very firm to my tongue. The skin was so smooth and tight, and other than the nipple itself I remember feeling no little bumps. I also remember there was no discernible taste to her nipples, which I found slightly disappointing even though I had no idea of what I thought nipples should taste like.
Next she slipped out of her briefs, exposing her Brazilian-cropped vagina. As she ran her fingers across it she commented how it was already so wet, which I took as encouragement that she was enjoying this experience too (as much as she could, this being what it was). She separated her labia and introduced me to her clitoris. I mean to say she actually, verbally announced it to me – ‘and here is my clit’! That was another strange moment. It was like I was getting a commentary. Once again I missed having a perfect view, but I wanted my time with her to keep developing and didn’t want to pause for a freeze-frame.
Back on the bed, she picked up my hands and guided them over her body. It was so lovely to feel her, yet so frustrating to not have the motor control to do this myself, or the strength to squeeze her and pull on her like every instinct I had was commanding me to do. She started to stroke my chest again and asked me ‘are you a leg man or a breast man?’ to which I replied ‘I think I’m more of a pussy man actually’. At that moment I wondered if my remark had sounded particularly crass, but she smiled at me. She took my hand and pressed it up against her vagina, then put two of my fingers inside her. In their natural position, my hands make a loosely clenched fist, and if you try to straighten out my fingers then very soon they start to close up again. So it took some concentration on my part to keep my fingers straight inside her as she slid them deeper within.
She was right when she said she was wet, and it was like my fingers were travelling through warm jelly. In fact when I was thinking about this later on, I remembered the movie ‘American Pie’ which I had seen years ago and only now did it make perfect sense! I tried to press my fingertips against the sides, and generally just feel and explore as much as I could before my fingers curled up again. I had literally a few seconds to enjoy this but it really was magical for me. She brought my fingers towards my nose and told me to smell them, so I breathed in. I was taken aback by the odour, at how pungent it was. It was kind of unpleasant initially, but in another way it was very satisfying that it was so intense and like nothing I had smelt before. The strangest thing was that I continued to smell this odour for almost two days, despite the fact that I had thoroughly washed my hands and showered. I am sure that nobody else smelt it; it’s as if it was infused into my nostrils, or maybe into my brain. It was like an extension of the experience, inspiring happy memories while it lasted.
Ruby asked me if there was anything I particularly wanted to do. I told her that I really wanted to taste her. So she climbed onto the bed and squatted, lowering her vagina onto my lips. I was able to manage the slightest movement of my head, enough to try and trap parts of her labia between my lips. And I even surprised myself that I was able to reach out with my tongue enough to lick her. My disability prevents me from being able to stick my tongue out very far at all, and I had wondered on occasions over the years how I might cope with this very activity. Well I managed better than I expected to. Even Ruby commented ‘you’re pretty good at that for your first time’! I guessed she was probably just saying that to give me a boost, but it felt good to hear all the same.
After a couple of minutes she shuffled down the bed and began to kiss me again. She worked her way down my neck and on to my chest, as I started to breathe more deeply in an effort to open myself up to the pleasure. She gently sucked on my nipples with her moist lips, which was something I enjoyed the sensation of more than I would have anticipated. She climbed off the bed again and continued downward...
Now it’s probably quite hard to imagine how I wasn’t already hard by this point. I’m sure that had this been a year or two earlier it would have been; in fact I’d have probably blown my load by now. But I had been feeling depressed and hollow and hadn’t had an erection in ages, not even the slightest ‘stirring’. Even watching porn on the computer hadn’t been making anything happen. It had started to feel like nothing was working down there anymore. I used to think it would be a blessing if my erections would stop, after all what use were they to me? It’s not like I could see myself ever having the fortune to be in a sexual situation (other than one I had paid for). I can’t masturbate to get any enjoyment out of it because my hands don’t work properly. All that would happen is I would have occasional wet dreams with all the embarrassment and inconvenience they entail. So erections and any sexual urges whatsoever just felt like the bane of my life. However in recent weeks I had come to realise that without those urges, that stirring, I was not ‘me’ anymore. I had no smile and no spark. As Austin Powers would say, I had lost my ‘mojo’ and I needed to get it back. That is basically why Ruby was here right now. I needed to test if it had gone forever so that I would know what I was dealing with.
She locked her lips around my cock and got to work on it, and unsurprisingly it felt very nice. I was very nervous about whether it would have the desired effect, and perhaps I was a little panicky and impatient because it did take some time to begin to grow. It might sound cheesy to say it, but it felt as if she was literally breathing new life into me. She mumbled that people had told her that she gave really good blow-jobs, and of course I showed my agreement, even though I would have liked for her to take my cock in further and tighter. Then I experienced what was quite possibly the most pleasurable act of the evening, and obviously therefore of my life, when she sucked on my balls. I had always wondered if I would enjoy that, ever since I watched this sex therapy TV show some years earlier in which a so-called expert advised to a woman to suck her husband’s balls only for the husband to report back that he absolutely hated it! Well now I knew, and it was ecstasy for me. Like most things it only lasted for moments, and I regret not asking Ruby to do that for longer. It was like it had started everything within me whirring into action. I think I was worried that it was feeling too good and that I would cum too soon, so I suppose it was the right choice.
So that was the warm-up complete, and now it was time for the main act. She asked me rhetorically if I wanted to be inside her, and I smiled and nodded. She took a condom out of her handbag and put it on me. I was in two minds about how to feel; despite the overwhelming desire for pure and unobstructed flesh-to-flesh contact, I knew a condom was essential and in a way I was excited to have the opportunity to wear one. I think the only previous time I had seen a condom in real life was back in my university days when they were being given out free, and I put one over my knob for fun (my wheelchair joystick knob I mean!) She climbed back on to my bed, and briefly stood upright before the inevitable comedy moment when she almost lost her footing and had to scramble to avoid falling off! But she was fine and she sat down on me, facing me, and with her arms stretched out behind and her hands pressed flat on the bed. She gently rocked her pelvis, but I was disappointed that I was just not feeling very much at all. I had wanted to have intercourse ever since I stumbled across its definition in a dictionary at primary school! And I had questioned for so long if it would even be practically possible for me to achieve. Well it had gotten off to an inauspicious start. I then asked the question that, as soon as the words came out of my mouth, sounded like another of those embarrassing things I was sure I’d heard before on the TV: ‘is it in?’ Three tiny words, but if I could have bashed my head against a wall I would have done.
She confirmed that it was, and suggested it might just be the condom dulling the sensation. That was a very good point, not that there was anything that could be done about it. But I realised the bigger problem was that my bed was not completely flat – it is adjustable and I had the backrest raised slightly from the start to improve my view. I figured that if it was flatter, I could get deeper inside her. Ruby grabbed the controller and pressed the button to lower the backrest... NO! PLEASE NOT NOW! My bed has been very temperamental, and every now and again the controller stops working, and of all the times it has failed me this was by far the most inconvenient! Sam can usually fix the problem quite quickly by unplugging the controller, jiggling the connections, and reconnecting it. I asked Ruby to try this so she got off me, found the plug and tried to pull it out but it was fitted just too tight. Seriously, it is only as I am writing this that I see the irony of the problem. There was only one thing for it. Ruby pulled the blanket up over me, slipped back into her dress and, slightly embarrassingly left the room to summon Sam. While she was spending a few minutes in the bathroom, Sam entered with a peculiar grin and I told him the problem. He fixed it, lowered the bed flat, and left. Ruby returned to continue from where we left off but in the time that had elapsed, my erection had started to fade and the condom felt a little loose. She removed the condom and set about restoring me to my former glory with her mouth. It only took a few moments, but this time I knew I just couldn’t contain it any longer. ‘I think I’m going to cum’ I told her. I felt that amazing burning sensation that I don’t get to experience nearly often enough as I ejaculated hard and for the first time in months. I managed two respectable bursts and Ruby exclaimed: ‘That’s a lot of cum!’ I told her I wasn’t surprised considering how long I’d had to wait for this release. I added that I thought I could go again, perhaps more in hope than expectation because I still desperately wanted to experience ejaculation during intercourse. ‘You’re still hard! How’s that?!’ she said enquired with some surprise, and I was quite impressed with myself! I really believed I was going to get my wish, but as the seconds passed I knew it’s just wasn’t to be. Once again my erection faded, I knew I had less than 10 minutes of my hour with Ruby remaining and that wouldn’t be nearly long enough to recharge.
What happens now? I wondered if Ruby would just excuse herself and leave. What was the usual protocol? I hadn’t really given this any thought. She sat on the edge of my bed again, moved in closer to me, and just talked to me. I can’t remember what we talked about exactly. She told me a little bit about her life in London, her close friends that knew about her life as an escort, and her own difficulties in starting a relationship over the past few years. I told her some stories about my own heartbreaks, and about the love I have inside me that I don’t know what to do with. In truth, it didn’t really matter what we were speaking about. It was just beautifully intimate to be naked and to look into her eyes and to see her looking into mine, and to sense that she actually did care about what I was saying. It was unforced, affectionate and rounded off our encounter nicely; and it helped to convince me that sex with a prostitute doesn’t have to be a clinical and soulless.
And sadly that was that; my hour was up and Ruby told me she had to go now. She covered me up and got dressed again. We thanked each other and I asked her to tell Sam to give me a few minutes to myself. And with that she was gone.
I had Sam give me a shower a short while after Ruby left, during which time I tried not to give too much away except that it had been a good experience. I wasn’t beaming from ear to ear, but I had a thoughtful and satisfied smile. Afterwards I went to sleep, wondering how I would feel in the morning leaving home for the first time as a non-virgin. I slept well.
The following morning I sent Ruby an email to thank her for her affection, and over the coming days, Ruby and I exchanged a few more messages. It was very uplifting for me to read what she had to say, in particular that she had enjoyed my sexual curiosity and how I had wanted to touch her and taste her. She also admitted to me that she occasionally had doubts about her decision to be a sex worker, but that after meeting me those doubts had gone and she felt this was a gift I had given her. That was a lovely and unexpected thing to read, because at best I hoped that her professionalism would help her to tolerate being with me physically, and I seemed to have made a better impression on her than I imagined I was capable of.
That was my virginity-loss experience. I am proud of myself that I was able to engineer an opportunity to explore myself sexually, however brief it might have been. I think I did it with dignity and maturity, and I have no regrets. Obviously this is not how I would have planned to lose my virginity; I will always yearn for a deep sexual connection with a partner in a loving relationship. But time is running out for me, the likelihood of that happening is remote, and it was up to me to make something happen sooner than later. I am relieved that I succeeded, and hope I will be able to find the strength from this adventure to continue my journey of self-discovery and ultimately find contentment.’