Sexy times…

As I’ve been inundated with questions as to what happened at the Sex Clinic (well, 2 people asked me ) I thought I’d better  fess up.

When you’re paralysed, everything below your spinal break doesn’t work any more – and I mean nothing at all – although with drug assistance/ aids, it can, though not properly or completely. When in Stoke Mandeville Hospital i was amazed by the lack of communication about this subject from health professionals. I had one ( voluntary ) chat with Michelle, the paralysis sexpert, herself in a wheelchair, and she told me all about ‘sex post paralysis ‘. I have to say that it was completely pointless and unhelpful, relying on her own experience as a Paralysed WOMAN. She told me all about romantic baths and candles and  lighting – all very nice, all that, except it wasn’t clear how I’d get in and out of the bath, especially with all that slippery bath oil all over the place, with the certain combustion hazard of lit candles and a paraplegic covered in oil….  I mean I wanted desperately for her to scream ‘ oh baby you’re on fire!’ … but not for her to mean it literally.

So essentially I learned F All from Michelle, unless  I’d ended up recovering from paralysis and then got with a paraplegic woman, who I could lift in and out of the bath without setting her alight.

So, back to this appointment – Ms Wood questioned me mainly about the strength of my own ‘ Wood’, asking me to rate it out of 10 in different situations. In some of those situations I can neither feel it nor see it, as it’s ‘ somewhere else ‘ … so I had to guess. She explained that there are different drugs that work on different response times, varying from 10 minutes after swallowing to 2 hours, tho most stay in your system for 24 hours, apparently, but do rely on ‘ stimulation ‘ to take effect.

Then i was sent to see Judith, who was the Keeper of The Vibrator. Judith explained that she was just going to slip into something more comfortable and came back in a different nurse’s uniform – shorter skirt, sheerer stockings, and her hair now untied and tousled. Her already red stilettos and matching nail varnish was now complemented with crimson lipstick. The lights dimmed, and the music on, she then went to work, shooting me flirty glances and calling me Big Boy.

Apparently after a few minutes of being vibrated, anything is possible. After 4 years, it’s quite feasible that she’d have had to swim out of the room, dragging me with her to save my life, or even that it can all come out a funny colour, having been in storage for some time…  I was certainly expecting Judith to have to stand back to avoid being pebbledashed, or at least to wear a wipe down poncho and a face visor.

What actually happened next will have to remain unsaid, for the sake of and minors reading this, or potential next wives, the latter for whom I’d rather it be a special moment between us.

I did my utmost to embarrass Stella, by saying that she was a casual internet date with a vested interest in the Orgasmatron machine that was being tested.

A post coital cigarette shared by Judith and I later, and then we were on our way back to London, a few pounds lighter.

Enough said…

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