Next evening, Himari and Lindsey couldn't come. It was Lindsey's Thursday Pilates group, and Himari had something inscrutable to do but she didn't say what it was. Jennifer didn't seem to mind just being the two of us when we'd talked about it last evening, so she wanted to meet anyway, at her house. She gave me the address and when I arrived, bang on time, she took me inside and showed me a spare wheelchair, which sat just inside the front door of her bungalow.

“Have you ever used a wheelchair?” she asked. “Like, temporarily obviously. Some people need one for a week or two if they break their leg or something.”

“I was wheeled around in hospital one time when I went for an operation, but I just let them do whatever they had to.”

“OK, well this is yours when you visit me. You have to use it and not walk around. House rules!” she laughed, except she was serious.

“OK, that's fine,” I said, bravely.

I studied it. To me, wheelchairs were large rectangular clunky frames on different-sized wheels, with some obvious push handles at the top of the backrest, and they looked like they'd been designed in the 1950s for a large fat and helpless man. This one was different, with a minimalist framework, no push handles on the backrest (in fact, hardly any backrest at all), sleekly designed seat, and rear wheels with a large-diameter black carbon-fibre hubcap (for want of a better description). Each hubcap had a modernistic design on it.

I lowered myself into it, gingerly. Her house, her rules. I wondered what sort of foibles I'd have had if I'd been disabled for decades.

“It won't bite you,” she assured me. “Let's go for a tour of the house.”

So I grabbed the push-rings which stood out from each wheel and headed for the kitchen. I was very wobbly to begin with. It felt like I was always in danger of tipping over backwards, but never actually did. I nearly scragged my knuckles going through the doorway into the kitchen (I discovered that you have to aim for exactly the middle of the doorway), with Jennifer not far behind me. I also discovered that steering it is not as easy as it looks. She sent me into each room one at a time and followed me in. There was a large kitchen/dining room where we had a coffee and she told me about her parents, brothers and sisters. There was a living room with two armchairs and a sofa, her bedroom and a small utility room off the kitchen. It was very nicely furnished. I'd call it French shabby-chic. The last room of all was a spare bedroom with a bed with a sheet on it but no duvet.

“You did well for the first time,” she said. “Most of my friends say it feels like they are going to fall over backwards or scrag their knuckles as they go through the doorway into the kitchen.”

I stared at her for a tick. Could she read my mind?

“Yes, but you need one all the time,” I replied. “I can't imagine what that is like.”

“Oh, I've used a wheelchair since I was eighteen. I've had ten or eleven new ones, the one you're in is the one I used before this one. I like my wheelchair. I'm not 'confined' to it, as people like to say, in fact, it gives me freedom to go out and do things. Have you got any questions you'd like to ask me about my legs?”

I looked doubtful. How could I ask personal questions like that?

“Anything. You can ask anything! We've had sex with each other, dear, there's nothing to worry about. Ask the questions you dare not even think about asking!”

“I'll think of some soon enough,” I smiled. “Such as, what's it like not being able to move your legs?”

“It was terribly hard at first. I was nine and quite good at netball and things. I gradually got used to not having legs that worked, and now it's so normal I hardly ever even think about it.”

“Even when someone asks questions like I'm doing?”

“Yes, I don't mind answering questions or showing people what I can and can't do.”

We both stared at her legs, hidden under her skirt. I looked again at her skirt, a rather nice gypsy design. Jennifer saw me looking at it and lifted it up for me to have a closer look at. I saw she was not wearing any knickers. I felt the material in my fingers and looked at her paralysed legs, then placed the skirt down again, touching her thigh as I did so. I left my hand on her leg to see what would happen. She smiled at me. I slid my hand further up her leg, but we were almost facing each other and I had to lean forward so I could reach. I urged my wheelchair nearer to hers but as I approached, the footplate on mine snagged with the footplate on hers and we rolled further apart again.

“Welcome to my world, Stella!” she laughed.

Both giggling like naughty schoolgirls, we wheeled ourselves nearer to each other and Jennifer put her brakes on. I looked down to see what I had to do to put mine on and found a small lever on each side, so I snapped them forward and our wheels locked. We both leaned nearer each other again and my hand found its way to the top of her leg. Hers found my right breast and cradled it gently.

“Why don't you lie on the bed? Remember, no legs!” she teased.

I did a quick transfer to the bed next to me, pretending not to use my legs.

“Humph!” she said. “Did you just use your legs?”

“No, no!”

“Stella?!”

I slipped my jumper and skirt off, revealing my naked body underneath, and moved my legs onto the bed using just my hands. Honest.

I wriggled myself to the edge of the bed so Jennifer could reach me from her wheelchair. She spent a time simply looking at me and touching me in an investigative sort of way. I lay there and let her do it. She was, of course, especially interested in my mega clitoris

I looked at her bust as she leaned forward over her legs. It swayed forwards just as you'd expect it would with a woman leaning forward with a large bust and no bra. She wore a thin white blouse with a number of small buttons, and the more she leaned forward the more the buttons strained to stay done up. I watched, fascinated, to see how long they would last. Normally, I would feel highly embarrassed to stare at another woman's bust (I often did stare, but very discreetly) but on this occasion, she wasn't going to mind. Indeed, she would probably insist on it if she thought I wasn't doing it. I sat upright and leaned forward myself making it easier for her to fondle my breasts and for me to undo her small white buttons and release her dangling breasts. Her blouse dropped open and they swung into full view between her arms, outstretched towards mine.

At the sight of them, my legs involuntarily opened a little as a little spark descended from my nipples to my vagina. I lifted and weighed her breasts and drew them a little way towards me. She hitched herself forwards in her wheelchair until she was perched on the edge of her seat. She did a shoulder roll which got rid of the white blouse and we played there for a while.

“Can I help you get onto the bed on top of me?” I asked.

She nodded, and I pulled and she pushed until she was sitting on the bed next to me, wearing only her skirt. I lifted her legs up onto the bed, lay down next to her and helped her to roll over on top of me. She wasn't heavy and her arms were very strong, and she held her breasts over my face as I lay underneath her. She lowered one of them into my mouth and I greedily suckled her nipples, first one side then the other. I loved the feeling of a large breast on my face, with the other one brushing my cheek. I could see the look on Jennifer's face - one of pure joy.

After quite a few minutes she flopped down half on me and half off me.

“I've never been suckled before!” she whispered happily. “I've never really had a boyfriend. They are hard to get when you live in a wheelchair.”

“You haven't?” I asked, in surprise. “They are?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I'm still pretty much a virgin. A boy I quite liked went out with me for a while. He liked me despite the wheelchair, but his family moved away and he went with them. And that was it.”

I gently rolled her legs off mine and started undoing her skirt. She wriggled her bottom and legs at just the right moments, and the skirt went onto the floor next to her wheelchair. I rolled her legs, naked now, back onto mine and lay back on the bed. Jennifer lay herself on top of me again, her body pressing down on mine and our breasts squashing on the other's. I moved my leg out a bit and one of hers fell into the space left. Now our pussies (and my huge clitoris) were rubbing on each other's, especially when I gave a few thrusts from my nether regions.

We both groaned with pleasure, feeling the close contact between my clitoris and hers. When my thrusts ran out of steam she took over, and we both played push and pull with each other for several minutes.

I sat up, lifted one of her legs and put mine on top of it, then I lay back on the bed the other way, down at her feet end with her at my feet. Our legs crossed each other like scissors and we both pushed our bottoms closer together until our clitorises rubbed each other strongly. We both went on pushing until waves of euphoria washed over me and I flopped back and had a fizzy orgasm while Jennifer had the same.

We lay there, resting after our exertions. I ran my fingers along her legs, from her thighs down to her toes.

“So having sex is perfectly possible,” I began. “I wonder why men think that women in a wheelchair can't do it?”

“Yes, I wonder that, too,” she replied. “I couldn't get anyone to even try it.”

There was a short silence and Jennifer began to snuffle.

“Hey, Jennifer, don't cry,” I began, sitting up and reaching out to hold her hand.

Her snuffling suddenly turned into badly suppressed laughter.

“I wasn't crying,” she snorted between guffaws. “I was trying not to laugh.”

I laughed myself and lay back on the bed.

“Stupid men!” she snorted.

When we'd finished sniggering I pulled my leg out from underneath hers and lay on my front and put my face between her legs right into her vagina. It smelled gorgeous. I breathed in deeply, inhaling the musky scents of a sexy woman after an orgasm or two. My tongue poked out and I began to lick. Jennifer mmm'd with pleasure and tried to widen her legs, but they weren't playing ball.

“Open my legs a bit more, if you like,” she suggested. “I can't move them.”

I slid her knees apart and buried my face deeper into her pussy. My tongue delved between her lips and picked up beautiful flavours and tastes. I could feel lots of little folds and crevices just at the entrance to her body. My tongue isn't very long, I'm not an anteater or a frog. And each one made me tingle all the way down to my toes, never mind what it was doing to Jennifer. My drool and Jennifer's juices collected around my mouth and all down my chin.

“My turn, my turn!” called Jennifer.

I turned myself around from head to toe, backed into position over Jennifer's face and lowered my vagina onto her mouth. My large clitoris dangled in front of her and immediately she began to lick me. I felt her tongue flicking my enlarged clit and its rounded end coming out of its shaft and probing my vagina and sucking my juices into her mouth. When I masturbate myself I like to pull the foreskin (or the equivalent of it) up and down, exposing the inner area of my clit which looks like a small circumcised penis, and rub it up and down. Then I like to play with my lips just below it, which look like a small but empty ballsack when the two lips are together. They open and reveal my vagina. I felt Jennifer making the discoveries and doing the same as I do. She grunted with unspoken pleasure.

I began to feel numb and my legs went a bit weak but I managed not to smother her too much. It was like licking half a dozen new nine-volt batteries all at once, but between my legs not on my tongue. She went on and on, not letting me go, not that I wanted her to. We spent at least an hour giving each other their turn until I collapsed exhausted onto the bed half on her and half off her.

We rested for a while.

“I've thought of another question. Can I watch you try to get around the house without using your wheelchair?”

She turned to look at me.

“You follow me in yours?”

“Yep.”

She eased herself onto the carpet, legs first then the rest of her. Her legs had ended up almost tangled up underneath her but she didn't straighten them out, she simply rolled onto her front and dragged herself along the carpet towards the doorway. Her legs trailed along after her, untangling themselves and falling out straight as and when they felt like it, and her breasts trailed along the carpet with her nipples leaving a line in the pile.

I slid sideways into my wheelchair, not using my leg muscles, and wheeled myself after her, watching what she had to do. She dragged out into the hall, did a half-circle and headed back towards me and the doorway I was watching her from. I backed into the spare bedroom as she hauled herself in. She lay there on the floor, waiting for more questions.

“You can't move your legs at all?”

“Nope.”

“Do you ever forget this then try to get up and walk?”

“I used to quite a bit, but not so much these days. In my dreams, I can always walk and run. Then I wake up!”

She sat up on the floor next to her wheelchair, gathered her legs underneath her, pushed upwards with her arms, and was sitting in the wheelchair before I'd had time to notice what she was doing.

She waited, expecting more questions.

“How do you cope with people looking at you all the time?”

“I mostly ignore it. Except that sometimes a child will come up to me and ask me why I'm in a wheelchair.”

“That must be annoying!”

“No, not really. I just tell them I was ill once and can't use my legs anymore. They accept it quite easily. More so than adults, usually.”

“Do you like people opening doors for you? I've heard that some wheelchair users don't.”

“If people want to hold the door open for me, that's great. Why would it be a problem?”

We both mulled over this question for a while.

“I don't know,” I replied, eventually.

We sat there, both as naked as the day we were born. We studied each other's bodies without making any effort to touch them. After a while, I bent down onto the floor, picked up the pile of clothes, some of which were mine and some hers. I stopped to admire her skirt before passing it to her.

“Try it on, if you like, Stella,” she offered.

I picked up one foot and placed it down into the skirt, and did the same with the other one. I pulled the skirt up to my knees and then wriggled my bum for what seemed like twenty minutes until the skirt was in place with me still sitting in my wheelchair.

I stroked the skirt on my thighs, feeling the material in my fingers while the colours flowed into each other very pleasingly. I wriggled about quite a bit more until Jennifer had the skirt to herself again.

We dressed ourselves as we sat in our wheelchairs, Jennifer finishing first due to her expertise in getting dressed while sitting down, and I wheeled myself towards the front door, where I parked the wheelchair.

“What did you think of having to use it instead of using your legs?” she asked, as I stood up for the first time in hours.

“I'll pass on that, thank you!” I replied.

She laughed.

“So will I.”