OLD MAN BRODY

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction.

Author's Note: Please email any comments to me at paradevo@yahoo.com

OLD MAN BRODY

by Lee Nilsen (paradevo@yahoo.com)

It was the bottom of the ninth. Eighteen year old Douglas Martin held his bat steady as kept his eyes pinned on the pitcher's right hand, which badly concealed the baseball. Doug narrowed his eyes, waiting for the pitch to come, trying to predict its curve.

"Come on, Dougie!" Greg Holmes yelled from the curb. "We need a home run!"

The pitcher let loose with a would-be curve ball that didn't have quite enough spin. Doug saw it coming. He tightened his grip on the bat and heard the sweet crack as he connected with the ball as that perfect angle. BAM! Doug smiled as the ball flew into the air, but his smile quickly faded as he heard glass shattering.

"Shit," Doug said.

The smart, if not moral, thing to do at that moment would have been to drop the bat and run for it. The other boys were scattering, but Doug simply stood there, debating whether or not to own up to what he had done.

He might not have hesitated to take the blame if the broken window hadn't belonged to Old Man Brody. Mr. Brody was notorious for being very bad tempered, always keeping whatever flying objects landed in his yard and frequently yelling at kids for playing in the sidewalk (possibly, as it seemed, with good reason). Nobody wanted to mess with Old Man Brody.

As Doug stood holding the bat, he saw the door to Mr. Brody's house opening up. He knew this was the time to run, but he couldn't get his feet to move. He saw a pair of wheels poking out of the door-Mr. Brody's wheelchair. He wheeled himself a few feet outside the door. "Hey, kid!" Mr. Brody yelled, staring at Doug with fury in his face. "You! What the hell did you do to my window?!"

And that was the moment Doug picked to run.

Doug couldn't shake the feeling of guilt he had over what he had done to Old Man Brody's window. Here was Mr. Brody, this old man confined to a wheelchair, and he had smashed in his window and just left him to fix it and pay for the damage himself. Doug hated himself.

At dinner, Doug just stared down at his food, making piles with his mashed potatoes. He couldn't even look his parents in the eye. Every five minutes, he resolved to go back over to Mr. Brody's house and confess what he had done, then five minutes later he chickened out.

"Why aren't you eating, Doug?" his father asked.

"I had a big lunch," Doug mumbled.

His father shook his head. "I still think you ought to have a summer job. The summer before my senior year of high school, I got a job as an auto mechanic. A kid your age shouldn't be lazing around all summer doing nothing. That's why you've got no appetite."

Doug shrugged his slim shoulders and went back to playing with his mashed potatoes. He knew his father wouldn't push the issue. He was too busy with his work to pay much attention to Doug or his siblings. Harvey Martin got home every day just in time for dinner, then went straight to his desk in the den to continue working.

The phone rang and Doug's mother stood up to answer it. When she said, "Oh, hello Mr. Brody," Doug nearly jumped out of his seat. Doug could see his mother's face darkening as she listened to the voice on the other line. "Thank you for letting me know, Mr. Brody. You have my word you will be compensated," she said to him.

Doug's mother slammed down the phone and looked over at her son. "Doug, did you break Mr. Brody's window?"

Doug lowered his eyes. "Yes."

"And you just... ran away?"

Doug didn't say anything.

"You just ran away!" his father yelled in disbelief. "You're an adult now-you have to start taking responsibility for your actions. Is that how we taught you to act, young man?"

Doug shook his head slowly.

His father slammed his fist down on the table. "I told you he should get a summer job, Elise!"

"Well, he's going to have one now," his mother said. "Doug, every afternoon for the rest of the summer I want you to go to Mr. Brody's house and help him with chores. You're going to do this until he decides you've paid him back for the window."

"What?" Doug yelped. "Oh, come on, Mom..."

"I don't want to hear another word," his mother said. "Even if you're still helping him when school starts, you're going to do this until Mr. Brody says your debt is repaid."

"But he's an asshole!" Doug cried. "He'll have me working there forever!"

"Douglas, language!" his mother said.

Doug hung his head, cursing silently to himself. He had been looking forward to hanging out this summer with his pals, maybe meeting some girls. He didn't want to spend the summer doing chores for some old man. As they pointed out, he was an adult now legally, and his parents shouldn't have been able to force him to carry out this punishment. But as his dad figured, as long as he was living under their roof for free, he had to obey their rules.

The guys were playing softball again the next afternoon (at a different location, of course), but Doug couldn't play. Instead, he showed up at Mr. Brody's door in old jeans and a T-shirt at promptly 1PM for work duty. It took him almost a minute to work up the nerve to ring Mr. Brody's doorbell.

The old man took a while to answer the door. Doug supposed the wheelchair slowed him down a lot. When Mr. Brody finally answered the door, Doug was surprised. He had never seen the old man nearly this close before and now he realized Mr. Brody wasn't actually that old. In fact, he was probably younger than Doug's dad. He wasn't a bad looking guy either. Somehow, the graying hair, the spectacles, and the wheelchair had fooled the neighborhood kids into thinking he was an old man.

"You're late," Mr. Brody snapped. "You were supposed to be here at one."

Doug looked at his watch, which read two minutes after one. "Sorry," he said.

"Well, get inside," Mr. Brody ordered. "I've got a lot of work for you to do."

As Doug walked inside, he couldn't help but admire Mr. Brody's house. It was spotless. He wondered how Mr. Brody kept it so clean, being in a wheelchair as he was.

"I've got a cleaning woman who comes every other day," Mr. Brody told Doug, as if reading his mind. "But don't worry, there's still plenty for you to do."

Mr. Brody set Doug to work repainting a bookcase that was starting to chip. It really wasn't that hard work-in fact, it was sort of fun. As Doug painted, he found his mind wandering to thoughts of his new employer. Doug had always assumed he was in a wheelchair because he was old. But now Doug wondered. Mr. Brody had a blanket covering his legs (which had added to his "old man" appearance) and he had what looked like the wrist guards that Doug used when he rollerbladed. It was all very strange.

Doug finished the bookcase off in about two hours. He called out, "Mr. Brody, I'm finished!"

Presently, Mr. Brody wheeled into the room and inspected the bookcase. "It looks okay," he grumbled. He looked Doug's slim body up and down, examining his paint-covered outfit. "Fine, you can go now. But you're coming back tomorrow." It wasn't a question.

Doug nodded, afraid to say anything more. He ran out to find his friends and see if it wasn't too late to join the game.

When Eric Brody had called the Martin house about his broken window, he had expected Mrs. Martin to offer him money, not her son. Eric hadn't been all that interested in having a teenager coming over to do chores for him every day, but Elise Martin had been so insistent. "He could even read to you if you'd like," Mrs. Martin had said.

Eric had laughed at that, although not out loud. What did she think he was-a blind 80 year old invalid? Eric knew the kids in town referred to him as "Old Man Brody" and since he rarely left his house, most of the adults in town had gotten the idea that he was elderly. In fact, Eric was 38 years old, although his light brown hair had been graying at the temples for quite a while now.

Eric didn't mind the rumors that he was a grumpy old man, because it generally kept the kids away from his house. He couldn't stand kids, partially because he felt that he had been robbed of half of his own childhood. The better half. Eric was injured when he was thirteen years old and consequently lost mobility and sensation in his lower body as well as the ability to move his fingers. He finished off high school being tutored at home.

Considering his limitations, Eric was very independent. He wore splints on his wrists to stabilize his hands, which made it possible for him to do activities such as typing. He had a job in computers that paid quite well and allowed him to work at home. He was also able to attach utensils and other objects to the wrist splints so that he was able to feed himself and even write with a pen (although he did very little writing with his hand, other than signing his name).

Eric used the palms of his hands to push a mechanical wheelchair, because he hated the ideal of having to rely on a electrical wheelchair. He also had a mechanical sling device that he used at night and in the morning to help him from his bed to the wheelchair and back. He wore simple shirts that didn't need to be buttoned and he usually just covered his legs with a large blanket over his boxers. He used an indwelling catheter, which he was able to change himself with some difficulty. As a result, he was completely independent in his own home.

Of course, there were some tasks that Eric had to hire others to do. There was a woman who bought him groceries twice a week, a woman who cleaned every other day, and there was a man who came three times a week for "physical therapy". Physical therapy consisted of stretching out and massaging the muscles in Eric's legs and hands. He didn't enjoy it, but he knew it was necessary.

Eric had another weekly routine that he did enjoy, however. Once a week or sometimes every other week, a male prostitute came to Eric's house and pleasured him for the span of a couple of hours. Whichever one it happened to be that week, they were always very discreet and he was pretty sure nobody in the neighborhood knew about it.

This was a habit Eric had gotten into a while back. He was bisexual, liking both women and men, but he found that he preferred men when given the choice. It didn't matter much though, because he found it very difficult to strike up relationships with either sex. Eric had been largely isolated since age 13 and now he felt uncomfortable around most people.

When he turned 28 and realized he had never gotten laid, he decided something had to be done. He made a few desperate attempts to meet women and men, through ads and online, but none of his attempts were even remotely successful. Additionally, he felt that he was so horny and worked up about having sex, when the time actually came, he'd just blow it somehow.

So at age 28, Eric made the hard decision to go ahead and hire a prostitute. He decided he wanted his first sexual experience to be with a woman, since girls intimidated him less. After he made the decision, he was very excited about it, although admittedly very nervous. He was worried about diseases, that the girl might turn and rob him, or a hundred other scenarios that had crossed his mind. He did a lot of research before he found the right girl.

"The right girl" was a prostitute named Cherry. She was somewhat pretty, he supposed, and in her mid-thirties. She dressed discreetly, as he had asked her to. He remembered opening the door for her, his body trembling with anticipation. He had been too nervous at first to get an erection, but she had been so gentle. It was his first sexual contact with a woman and the site of her sucking his hard penis floored him.

He alternated between men and women at that point. He enjoyed his time with the men more, but he didn't like to think of himself as gay, so he still occasionally called for women. He still made a few attempts to meet people he might be able to start a real relationship with, but it was beginning to seem like it would never happen. About four years ago, around the same time his mother passed on, he stopped calling women altogether and began his weekly regimen of male prostitutes.

Yes, he had a few bad experiences. The problem with many of the places was he never knew what he was going to get until she showed up at the door. When he was still seeing women, often a woman would show up who was easily old enough to be Eric's mother. In that situation, he usually figured since he was paying for it anyway, he may as well take the sex. Being sucked off was way better than masturbating, which was extremely difficult for him to do anyway, with his fingers immobilized.

He had been robbed only once, but it had been a truly awful experience. It would have been better if the guy stuck a gun to his head and took all his stuff, but instead he got him into his bed, removed all his clothes and his hand splints, then trashed his house and robbed him blind. He even trashed his wheelchair, the fucker. After he was gone, Eric managed to drag himself out of bed to a working phone, but he hadn't called the police. He called his physical therapist John, made up some story, and John had come over to help him. He never called the police because he knew it would be a scandal in the neighborhood. Better just to swallow his losses and leave it at that.

Eric wasn't unhappy with his life. He was almost completely independent, which was something that had always been very important to him. He considered himself a loner, so it was nice that he could work out of his home and had people to do his outdoors chores for him. And he probably got laid more frequently than most men on his block. All in all, it was a pleasant existence.

Doug was miserable the first few days he worked for Mr. Brody, but he eventually started warming up to him. Mr. Brody liked to act like an asshole, but he really wasn't like that at all. He was actually a really nice guy.

Initially, Mr. Brody had Doug doing chores in his yard and elaborate jobs around the house, but eventually he started allowing Doug to help him with some more mundane tasks. Doug noticed that Mr. Brody couldn't move his hands very well, which was why he had the splints, so doing simple things like pouring himself a glass of juice was a difficult task for him. Doug had spied on him one afternoon when he had stayed late, preparing his dinner. Although his maid or cook or whoever had already prepared a plate of food for him, he still had to heat it up in the microwave, which took a lot of effort on his part in terms of balancing. Doug watched Mr. Brody slowly removing the plate from the fridge, concentrating all his effort on not dropping it.

After that, Doug got into the habit of preparing Mr. Brody's dinner for him before he left. Mr. Brody never asked, of course, but Doug thought he seemed grateful for the help. After all, it was a very simple and quick matter for Doug to pop the plate into the microwave or pour a glass of soda and put a straw in it.

Doug liked talking to Mr. Brody too. Doug's dad was rarely home so in some ways, Mr. Brody became a bit of a father figure to him. They talked about sports a lot, which Doug loved. Mr. Brody said that when he was a kid, he used to like to play softball a lot too, although he had to give it up when he was injured. Doug even confessed to Mr. Brody about this girl from school that he sort of liked, although that seemed to make him a little uncomfortable. Doug wondered if Mr. Brody ever dated, considering it seemed like he never even left his house.

Doug wondered what it was like for Mr. Brody to live his life. There were questions Doug had that he would never ever ask, such as how did he manage to go to the bathroom. There was some sort of contraption over his bed that seemed to be used to help him get in and out, but Doug still found it hard to believe he was able to do that by himself every morning and night. Once or twice in the privacy of his room, Doug pretended he didn't have use of his fingers and he found it very difficult to do even the easiest tasks. But he supposed Mr. Brody had a lot of experience.

Another thing Doug wondered about was whether or not Mr. Brody jerked off. As an eighteen year old kid, sex was always on Doug's mind and he couldn't imagine how Mr. Brody could live his life without it. Doug could hardly go a day without jacking off, but he didn't see how Mr. Brody could do it with his hands paralyzed.

As the summer went on, Doug found himself spending more and more time at Mr. Brody's house. Lately, he found himself bringing food and staying for dinner a couple of nights a week. It seemed to Doug that Mr. Brody was a lonely man and really enjoyed the company, even though he wouldn't admit it. And once or twice a week, Mr. Brody slipped Doug a ten dollar bill on his way out the door to thank him for the work he had done.

All in all, it was a pretty nice arrangement.

Even though Doug had gotten in the habit of helping out with some of Mr. Brody's simpler tasks around the house, it was always because he volunteered-Mr. Brody never ever asked for help. Except for once, when Doug was working there for a little over three weeks.

Doug was cleaning up some clutter in the kitchen when he heard Mr. Brody calling his name. Doug heard the urgency in his voice and came running. To Doug's surprise, he was calling from within the bathroom.

"Mr. Brody," said Doug. "Should I come in?"

"Yeah," Mr. Brody said. "If you don't mind..."

Doug opened the door and saw Mr. Brody in his wheelchair, next to the toilet. The blanket covering his legs had been pulled down and was all wet. There was a thin tube on the edge of the toilet seat. "I had a bit of a mishap," Mr. Brody explained, his face turning a little red. "My leg bag spilled while I was changing my catheter."

That answered Doug's question about how Mr. Brody went to the bathroom. "No problem," Doug said quickly. "I'll help you get cleaned up."

Doug went to the closet and got another blanket, and put the wet blanket in the hamper. Mr. Brody's boxers hadn't gotten wet, so that didn't need to be changed. Doug helped out by opening up a new catheter for him to insert before he started cleaning up the spilled urine in the bathroom.

Out of the corner of his eye, Doug watched Mr. Brody attempting to insert the catheter. Mr. Brody's penis was flaccid and circumcised. He was supporting his penis with one hand while he slowly slowly brought the catheter toward his urethra with his other hand. On his first attempt, he missed the hole. On his second attempt, he dropped the catheter completely.

"Sorry about that," Mr. Brody said as Doug opened up a new catheter. "Usually I'm a little better at this."

"If you want, I can do it," Doug offered.

"Uh... that's okay."

"It's really no problem, Mr. Brody."

Mr. Brody looked at Doug through his spectacles. "Well... I guess it would be faster that way..."

Mr. Brody gave Doug instructions on what to do. Doug held Mr. Brody's penis in his left hand to steady it. He then brought the end of the tube into Mr. Brody's urethra, instinctively wincing as it went in. He pushed it deeper in, past a point of resistance, then all of a sudden, urine began to flow into the attached bag. Doug was smiling with his achievement until he noticed that Mr. Brody's penis had become somewhat erect.

"Don't mind that," Mr. Brody said, blushing again. "Because of my spinal cord injury, there's no connection between my penis and my brain. So when someone touches my penis, it usually, you know, gets hard."

"Don't worry about it," Doug assured him. He felt a little bit uncomfortable, but it wasn't Mr. Brody's fault that this had happened. "And if you ever need help in here again, just ask me."

Eric was impressed with how calm Doug had been when he asked for help in the bathroom. Doug had handled Eric's penis expertly. Eric had been telling the truth about the connection between his mind and his dick being severed, but that didn't mean he wasn't very turned on by the site of Doug handling his penis.

Eric was doing his best not to fall for Doug. It was hard to have a good looking eighteen year old kid with a great body doing chores around his house every day without getting a little bit turned on, but it was unrealistic to think anything would ever happen with Doug. Doug saw Eric as more of a father figure, as evidenced by the fact that he was still calling him "Mr. Brody" even after Eric had told him more than once it was okay to call him by his first name.

Still, when Eric was jerking off or even when he was with his "weekly visitors", he was thinking about Doug. How great it would be to have Doug's lips wrapped around his cock. Or Doug fucking him in the ass. But the Martins probably wouldn't approve of that.

Eric guessed that Doug had no idea what he was thinking. Doug acted a lot younger than eighteen years old and even though he was pretty attractive, he had never had much in the way of relationships. Doug probably wasn't a virgin either though. Nowadays, it seemed like all the teenagers were having sex. But not the crippled ones, of course.

Eric had been a teenager back in the eighties. At age 13, he had been riding his bike and a car had slammed into him, throwing him 30 feet into the air. The next thing he knew, he was in the hospital in a neck brace. Because of the swelling in his spinal cord, he could barely move his arms at all initially, and none of the doctors could give him a straight answer regarding whether he ever would. The first month was probably the hardest, being fed all his meals by nurses, unable to even scratch his nose.

His parents decided that he had to continue with his education, although Eric didn't see the point. They hired tutors to work with him while in the hospital, then later in rehab. As he regained more movement in his arms, Eric felt more motivated to learn. He opted to continue his high school education in his home, and he completed his college education largely through correspondence courses.

Eric worked very hard to get to the stage of independence where he was now. It wasn't easy to perform his activities of daily living without being able to manipulate his hands. He could move his wrists fairly well, but he kept the splints on so that they didn't flop down. It kept his hands steady so that he could attach utensils to the splints, etc. Eric was told by doctors and physical therapists that he would never be able to live independently, and now here he was, proving them all wrong.

Still, Eric sometimes felt that he had missed out on some very important part of life. When he saw kids like Doug out having fun with their friends or girlfriends, he regretted missing out on that experience. Eric spent his teenage years at home with his parents, lusting over Patrick Swayze on TV. He hadn't been to one party since age 13, never experimented with drugs, and never had sex with someone where it wasn't for money.

Eric knew that he had isolated himself from most of humanity, which was one of the reasons it was nice having Doug around. Even though Doug was just a kid, he was the first friends Eric had had in a very long time.

One of Eric's favorites was a young man named Mario. Mario was from Puerto Rico, with a sexy accent and even sexier mouth. Eric asked Mario to come over in the morning, thinking they'd be long finished by the time Doug arrived.

As usual, Mario arrived dressed in a business suit. Eric let him in and Mario began stripping before the front door was even closed. Eric stared at the younger man's tanned, hairless chest and bit his lip hard. Mario was so beautiful. He pulled off his pants and was wearing only thong leopard-patterned underwear by the time they got to the bedroom.

Mario smiled at the expression on Eric's face. "You want me, amigo?"

"Fuck yeah," Eric breathed.

The great thing about Mario was that Eric didn't have to instruct him on what to do. They had been together enough times that Mario knew the drill. He lifted Eric out of his wheelchair and placed him on the bed.

Mario undressed Eric. He pulled off his shirt, then his boxers, and took off his glasses. Because he trusted Mario, Eric allowed him to removed the splints from his hands and pull the catheter out of his penis. If Mario hadn't been so familiar with Eric's body, Eric might have felt a little self-conscious. When Eric looked at his own body, he didn't like what he saw-the painfully thin, knobby legs, the bulge of his flaccid abdomen, the twisted and useless fingers. But Mario was paid to like his body.

Mario climbed on top of Eric and got on his knees so that his penis hung down in Eric's face. Eric lifted his arms so that his hands dug into Mario's ass, pushing his body closer so that Eric could take his dick into his mouth. Mario had a beautiful dick, very large and silky smooth, uncircumcised. Eric sucked the hell out of it as Mario stuffed it deeper and deeper down his throat. He thought he might choke at one point, but he was loving every second of it. When Mario finally came, shooting his load into Eric's mouth, Eric swallowed it down greedily, licking his lips for more.

Now it was Eric's turn. Mario worked Eric's nipples for a few minutes, sucking on them until they were hard little mounds. Eric moaned with pleasure. "You're so fucking sexy, Mario," he murmured, rubbing his twisted hands against Mario's dark hair.

Eric propped himself up on his elbows to watch Mario suck his dick. He couldn't really feel it, but it turned him on immensely to watch. He got very hard too, although his penis was barely half the size of Mario's at its full length. Mario patiently sucked him off, also giving attention to his balls. It was a process that could sometimes take a while, but Eric didn't feel rushed. A few times, he closed his eyes and imagined it was Doug's mouth on his dick.

When Eric finally came, he felt the orgasm like a warm blanket over his entire body, even the parts he couldn't usually feel. It was wonderful. Mario swallowed his cum, rather than snowballing it back to Eric which he occasionally did, depending on mood.

They lay in bed together, Mario smoking a cigarette and Eric simply enjoying the euphoria of his recent orgasm. Eric was so relaxed, he didn't even realize it was one o'clock until he heard the doorbell ring. "Oh, shit!" Eric cried.

"You expecting company?" Mario asked.

"Yeah, I..." Eric felt his heart pounding. He knew that if he didn't go down there and answer the door, Doug would just get worried and possibly even call for help. That was the last thing he needed. "Can you get me dressed fast?"

Mario understood immediately. He grabbed Eric's clothes off the floor and got him dressed at an impressive speed. He efficiently but quickly replaced the catheter in Eric's penis, then lifted him back into his wheelchair. Eric held out his hands. "My splints," Eric reminded him.

Mario nodded and gently secured both his wrists with the splints. Eric adjusted himself in his chair and wheeled outside to greet Doug, who had rung the bell three times already.

Doug gave Eric a funny look when he saw him. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure, I'm fine," Eric said quickly. "Why do you ask?"

"Your hair is all mussed," Doug said, squinting at him. "Were you taking a nap?"

Eric reached out to try to smooth his short hair. "Uh... sort of, yeah."

"I could come back if you..." Doug trailed off when he saw Mario emerge from the bedroom. Eric knew that even in his suit, Mario looked like a gigolo. His only hope was that Doug was somehow too na^Ëve to piece it all together.

"I'm just leaving," Mario said in his silky accent. He looked over at Eric expectantly.

Eric nearly smacked himself in the forehead. Mario, bless his heart, had to get paid. There was no way to do this discreetly. Eric reached into a pouch in his wheelchair and pulled out a wad of cash for Mario, who thanked him and left.

Doug's face was as red as Eric's. "Was that a prostitute?" Doug blurted out.

Eric was shocked that Doug asked the question. "Yeah, it was," Eric said, hanging his head.

Doug sunk down on the couch, his eyes staring at the carpet. "Jesus... how much money was that?"

"Two-hundred dollars."

"Jesus..."

Eric wheeled over to him. "I'm sorry you had to see that," he said quietly. "It's just that... it's not so easy for someone like me to form relationships. I may be disabled, but... I still have needs."

"Yeah," Doug was muttering. "Yeah, I get it. It's... it's totally okay. I just... do you mind if I go home now?"

"Sure," Eric said. He hoped this wouldn't be the last time he saw Doug Martin.

"I'll be back tomorrow," Doug promised.

Eric wasn't sure if he believed it, but he had no choice but to let Doug go.

Doug ran home from Mr. Brody's house and didn't say a word to his mother when he walked through the door, instead heading straight to his room. He couldn't believe what he had just seen. It was shocking enough to have seen a hooker in Mr. Brody's house, but the fact that the hooker was a guy made it infinitely worse.

Doug would never have guessed that Mr. Brody was a homosexual. He sure didn't act gay, not that Doug knew anyone who was gay for comparison. He just seemed like a nice regular guy, sort of loner, who happened to have a severe disability. Doug supposed that Mr. Brody was a good looking man, maybe even very good looking, and there was something about his looks that made him seem like sort of a prettyboy, especially when he came out of his room with his glasses off and his hair tousled. But it was hard to describe a guy in a wheelchair as a prettyboy.

The whole thing did sort of make sense in some crazy way. Mr. Brody was crippled and unable to have any sort of normal relationship, so he had to hire someone to relieve his natural human urges. It was easy to forget a guy like Mr. Brody had urges like that. Just because he was paralyzed, it didn't mean he should go through his whole life without having sex. God forbid.

Doug sort of felt bad for Mr. Brody. Doug himself had never had a real relationship, but he knew that someday he would. But that was something that Mr. Brody would never get to experience.

Doug heard a knock on his door. He looked up sharply. "Who is it?"

"Douglas, it's Mom."

"Come in."

His mother entered the room, looking very concerned. "Doug sweetie, are you all right?"

Doug nodded, "Sure. Of course."

"How are things going with Mr. Brody?"

"Fine."

Doug's mother smiled. "It's a really great thing what you're doing for that nice old man."

Doug bit his lip to keep from telling his mother the truth: Mr. Brody wasn't an old man at all. And he wasn't so nice either.

Eric couldn't stop thinking about what had happened with Doug. After taking so many precautions over the years, he couldn't believe he had been so stupid and careless. He had known Doug would be arriving at one. How could he have cut it so close?

The worst part was the look on Doug's face. It was obvious that he was completely disgusted by what Eric was doing. In a way, it made Eric angry. He was still a young man, still in his thirties. Didn't he have a right to have sex too, just like every other red-blooded American man? Just because he was confined to a wheelchair, did that necessarily mean he could never get laid? It wasn't fair for Doug to make assumptions like that.

Eric wondered how Doug would have reacted if he saw a callgirl leaving the house rather than a man. Doug would have understood that better, that was for sure. But Eric couldn't help his own tastes.

Eric truly didn't expect Doug to come around the next day, so he was surprised when his doorbell rang at a quarter after one. He answered the door and Doug was standing there, looking very nervous. "I'm here," Doug said, rather unceremoniously.

"I see that," Eric replied. He wheeled backwards to give Doug room to walk in. "Listen, do you want to... talk about this?"

"Naw," Doug said. "I was... in the middle of cleaning out your fish tank the other day. I'd rather just... get on with that."

"Well, okay," Eric agreed.

Eric tried to give Doug some space while he cleaned out the tank. He stayed in the other room for a little while, doing some work on the computer. Presently, he heard Doug calling for him. "Mr. Brody! Hey, Mr. Brody!"

Eric saved his work and wheeled into the room where Doug had been working. His mouth fell open when he saw that Doug had stripped off all his clothing, including his underwear. Eric had been right-Doug had a fantastic body. Slim but with solid muscles and a smooth, naturally hairless chest. But Eric's eyes immediately went to Doug's package, his long uncircumcised cock emerging from his sparse pubic hair.

"My god..." Eric breathed. "Doug..."

There were a million thoughts going through Eric's head right then, not the least of which was how much he wanted to get Doug's dick in his mouth. But he was excited too about the fact that Doug seemed to be interested in him. He had never had anyone, man or woman, come on to him like this before. He had believed the wheelchair made other people think of him as being asexual and he had come to accept that. But here was this beautiful eighteen year old boy who seemed to want him too.

"Dougie.." Eric murmured.

"I was thinking," Doug began, shifting uncomfortably in his nakedness, "you pay those guys two-hundred for a session, right? But since I'm not a professional and all, maybe you could just give me a hundred?"

Eric stared at Doug, unable to believe his ears. What had moments ago seemed like a kind, loving act of a young boy had now become a sordid act of prostitution. Doug didn't love him-he just wanted money. And Eric had been fooled, goddamn it.

Eric blinked a few times, trying to compose himself. He shouldn't have been so surprised, after all. Here was a kid who had broken his window and tried to make a run for it. Still, Doug was very handsome and it was a tempting offer. Eric cleared his throat and became all business. "How about this," he said, "you come here every day in the afternoon like you've been doing, but instead of chores around the house, we spend the afternoon in the bedroom. And we'll call it even for the window and at the end of each week, I'll give you 250 dollars." Eric tried to smile. "What do you say, Doug? It's a hell of a lot better than you'll get at McDonald's."

"Deal," Doug agreed without hesitation.

As Doug walked towards him, Eric forgot all about his wounded pride and focused only on Doug's magnificent cock. Eric held out his hands to Doug. "Can you take off the splints?" he asked. He wanted to feel the smooth skin of Doug's buttocks while he sucked him off.

Doug took Eric's hands one by one and undid the splints. He seemed a little shaken by the sight of Eric's bare hands. His fingers curled up and looked almost palsied. With the splints off, Eric dug his hands into Doug's ass, bringing him close so that he could lean forward and suck Doug's dick.

Eric was really enjoying himself, having dreamed about this for a long time. Doug didn't say much and seemed a little distracted. It took him a while to cum, which Eric didn't mind at all, because he loved having Doug's dick in his mouth. When Doug finally did cum, he shot an impressive load into Eric's mouth, which dribbled down his chin. Eric used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth and wound up getting his paralyzed fingers sticky with cum.

"Let's go to the bedroom," Eric said, looking up at Doug.

Doug nodded and started for the bedroom, forgetting that Eric wasn't wearing his splints anymore. Eric knew from experience that he wasn't going to be able to wheel his chair with his hands like this. "Little help?" Eric said, holding up his hands.

"Sorry," Doug said quickly. He grabbed the handles of Eric's chair to wheel him into the bedroom.

Doug was obviously very nervous, but he knew what he was doing. Once they were in the bedroom, he gently lifted Eric out of his wheelchair and lay him down on the bed. He carefully undressed Eric, pulling his boxers off over his paralyzed legs, and pulling his shirt up over his upraised arms. As Eric looked on anxiously, Doug pulled out his indwelling catheter. Eric lay on his bed naked, staring up at Doug.

When Doug sat on the side of the bed and Eric reached out to stroke his face with one curled up hand. Doug looked worried and Eric suspected he was afraid of having to suck some dick now. Eric decided to give Doug a break, considering it was his first time and all.

"Turn me over and fuck me," Eric instructed him.

Doug helped Eric to roll over in bed. Eric lay the side of his face against the pillow so that he could still see Doug hovering over him. Eric couldn't remember the last time he had wanted to be fucked so bad. He had flashbacks to his first time with a man, nervously presenting his ass to a young male prostitute. Now Eric was the confident one.

Doug had some trouble penetrating him, considering he was very nervous and had softened up considerably since Eric had sucked him off. Doug had to stimulate himself for a little while before he was hard enough. As Doug pumped against Eric's body, Eric smiled to himself, enjoying the waves of pleasure that flooded through him. Eventually, Doug came again and collapsed on top of Eric, his sweaty body sticking to Eric's back.

"That was fantastic, Dougie," Eric breathed. He didn't have an orgasm this time-it was hard for him and Doug wasn't all that experienced. Still, it had been immensely arousing. Eric decided to masturbate himself as soon as Doug left.

Doug rolled off of Eric and helped him to turn onto his back. "Do you want me to jerk you off?" Doug asked, as if reading Eric's mind.

Eric smiled. "That would be great, actually."

Eric watched as Doug reached over and took hold of his penis. At first Doug was very unsure of himself, but he gradually got into it. And without Eric even saying a word, Doug slid down the bed and began sucking him off. As Eric watched Doug's tongue rolling over the contours of Eric's circumcised penis, he had a hard time believing Doug wasn't at least getting some enjoyment out of it. Mario showed an equal amount of enthusiasm, but Mario was a professional.

When Eric finally came, he looked down at Doug's face and saw that the boy was smiling, a bit of cum dripping down the side of his chin. Eric smiled back.

School started and Doug came to Eric's house every single day at 3:30. They fucked for a couple of hours, then Doug would prepare Eric's food for him. Sometimes Doug stuck around while Eric ate and sometime he even stayed later in the evening and did his homework there.

Later Eric would recall this as the happiest time in his life. He hadn't had a happy childhood-he never enjoyed school or got along that well with his parents, even when he was young. Then at age thirteen he was injured and his life just got worse. Before he learned to become more independent, he had to rely on his parents for everything; for the first year, they fed him, dressed him, and took care of his bowel and bladder needs. It had been a time of nearly nonstop fighting.

Eric spent his teenage years being homeschooled and very lonely for the company of other kids his age. But by the time he got out of his parents house and back into the real world, he found that he had become very socially awkward and moreover, terrified of approaching other people, especially people he felt attracted to.

Despite the fact that he enjoyed his independence and had a good sex life, Eric had never realized how lonely he was. Doug was the closest he had come to having a real relationship, strange as that was. The sex was the best he had ever had, but more importantly, Eric thought he was falling in love with Doug. Of course, Eric had no intention of ever telling him that.

Doug, for his part, seemed to enjoy the interaction too. Even though he got paid at the end of the week, he was very enthusiastic about the sex and never seemed in any hurry to leave.

Doug continued his housekeeping duties as well. He didn't clean as much, but he still helped Eric prepare his dinner. Eric had always taken pride in being able to prepare and eat his own food, but acknowledged that it was much easier when Doug helped him. At the very least, Doug heated up the food for him and set it out on the dining room table, but more and more often Doug actually fed Eric himself.

Thanks to the weakness in his hands, Eric needed to be fed at many times in his life, but it had been many years since he had depended on someone to help him with this basic activity of daily living. He had to admit, though, it was much easier and faster (and he spilled a lot less) when Doug helped him. And there was something a little sensual about it too.

Doug gave Eric the first birthday celebration he had had in years. Ever since Eric's mother passed on, he had let his birthday pass by without taking note. But for some reason, Doug was determined to make this year special for him.

Eric was turning 39 this year-only one year away from the big four-oh. Eric couldn't believe he was almost forty, and he found the thought mildly unsettling. He still felt pretty young, still being in his thirties and all (even though the kids did call him Old Man Brody), but forty was moving close to middle age. And he knew that as he got older, he would lose more and more of his independence, as well as his health. This was as young and strong as he'd ever be.

Doug was still at that age where he looked forward to each birthday as a step toward being a man. He baked Eric a cake (from a mix, but it was still a nice thought) and put a circle of candles around the periphery. Eric was just grateful there weren't 39 candles. As Doug brought out the cake, beaming with pleasure, Eric couldn't help but share in his excitement.

"Vanilla-my favorite," Eric noted.

"Make a wish and blow out the candles," Doug said eagerly.

Eric stared into Doug's eyes as he leaned forward and blew out the candles. I wish I wasn't paying for this, he thought.

Eric tried not to think about the money he shelled out for the pleasure of Doug's company. Doug didn't act like he was being paid. He stayed all afternoon and only left when his mother expected him home for dinner. And maybe it was Eric's imagination, but Doug seemed to be enjoyed the sex almost as much as he did. He certainly had just as many orgasms.

One evening, as Eric and Doug lay together in bed, spent from the activities of the afternoon, Eric posed a question: "Listen, Doug... is there anything that maybe you'd like me to do?"

As soon as the words left Eric's mouth, he felt silly. He looked down at his naked body, pretending he was seeing it for the first time. He winced at the thinness of his limbs contrasting with his flabby abdomen, his curled and useless hands. Then there was his small penis lying limp against his leg-downright pathetic compared to Doug's magnificent member. Eric had to remind himself once again that Doug would never be here if not for the money.

But to Eric's surprise, Doug grinned mischievously. "Actually," Doug said, "there is one thing..."

Eric propped himself up on his elbows and watched as Doug went to the end of the bed and picked up one of Eric's paralyzed feet. Doug stroked the sole of his foot, "It's so smooth..."

"Well, I haven't walked on them in 25 years," Eric reminded him.

"Do you think you could?" Doug asked.

"Could what?"

"Walk." Doug's eyes were wide and serious.

Eric laughed. "Oh, sure. The whole wheelchair bit-that's just for kicks."

"What if I helped you?" Doug offered. "The thing is, I'd like to try fucking you... standing up."

Eric looked down at his legs. The thought of being on his two feet again seemed ridiculous. Even with heavy braces on, he couldn't stand up. God knows, he had tried way back when. The memory of standing up was so remote that the idea was almost frightening.

"I'll walk you over and you could hold on to that dresser," Doug suggested, pointing to a dresser that probably would have reached Eric's mid-chest. "And of course, I'll support you from behind."

Before Eric could stop himself, he was agreeing to Doug's strange request. But as Doug helped him toward the edge of the bed, Eric felt suddenly terrified. He was certain he was going to wind up flat on his face. And what if he broke something? With his brittle bones, he might never heal. He didn't want to be in a cast for a year, or worse, lose a leg.

Doug held Eric under his armpits, with his hands locked across Eric's chest. Naturally, Eric's legs gave way beneath him as soon as they were pulled from the support of the bed, but he felt relatively secure Doug wasn't about to drop him.

"My legs aren't going to start moving, if that's what you're waiting for," Eric said. He felt his back sticking to Doug's chest with a layer of sweat.

"Sure they will," Doug said. He began walking across the bedroom, holding Eric securely, and Eric watched his legs being dragged along. It definitely wasn't walking, but it was the closest he'd ever get.

When they reached the dresser, Eric leaned forward and did his best to hang on to the top. Doug entered him from behind, but still kept his hands on his chest. It was a good thing, because Eric was having a lot of trouble holding on by himself.

"How long has it been since you've stood up?" Doug whispered in his ear.

Eric tried to think of the answer. When he was first in physical therapy 25 years ago, they propped him up for some of his exercises. It was supposed to be good for his bones or circulation or something. Now they didn't bother with standing exercises. "It's been a long time," Eric admitted.

"How does it feel?"

"Strange."

Doug thrust into him hard and Eric groaned. Doug wasn't afraid of getting in there real deep. He was impetuous in ways that Mario and the others never were. It was good because the deeper Doug went, the more he felt. And Doug's cock could go pretty deep.

"You okay?" Doug asked Eric. Eric was sweating profusely now and his arms were beginning to tremble.

"Don't you dare stop," Eric said.

Doug went until they both came. Eric's weight became too much for either of them and they collapsed onto the floor, Eric's limp body on top of Doug's. Eric wiped salty water off his forehead with the palm of his hand. He rested his head against Doug's chest, knowing he'd never have the energy to get dressed and get back into his chair by himself.

"Good?" Doug asked.

"Good," Eric confirmed.

After that day, Eric and Doug began experimenting more. Doug always seemed to have some new sex game he wanted to try out and Eric never said no. Most of the time, Doug didn't even ask first. Eric liked the fact that Doug was so enthusiastic about being with him. He never talked about girls anymore either. Eric wondered if maybe this experience was changing Doug... and he wondered how Doug's family and friends would feel about it.

Elise Martin was so proud of her son and everything he had done for poor Mr. Brody. It was nearly halfway through the school year and Doug had more than worked off his debt, but he still came to Mr. Brody's house every single day after school. It was so sweet. Elise knew she had raised a good boy.

And it seemed that Doug really enjoyed helping Mr. Brody. Every day he came home whistling, with a big smile on his face. Mr. Brody and Doug had really bonded. Doug's father wasn't around much, so maybe Doug saw Mr. Brody as a sort of father figure.

The whole thing got Elise thinking. When Mr. Brody first moved to the neighborhood, she hadn't made an effort to get to know him. And she knew she wasn't the only one. Even the welcome wagon that visited every newcomer to the town had come up with some sort of excuse to avoid a visit to his house. She had never even had a conversation with him before. She spoke to some of her friends and none of them had much to do with Mr. Brody either-even Regina, who lived down the block from him, only spoke to him when he called to complain about her dog being loose in the street. Truth be told, most people seemed to think he was a rather cranky old fogie and worth avoiding. But if Doug liked him so much, she had surely misjudged the old man.

So this was how Elise decided to bake one of her famous peach pies and bring it over to Mr. Brody's house. It was the neighborly thing to do, in addition to the fact that she was dying to finally talk to Mr. Brody in person. She was curious to meet this man who had befriended her son.

Elise brought the pie over at four o'clock on Thursday afternoon. As she knocked on the door, she found that she was slightly nervous-after all, Mr. Brody had a reputation for being a grouch. What if when he saw her, he told her to get lost?

Elise waited several minutes, but there was no answer at the door. She tried the doorknob and found that the door was open. She stepped into Mr. Brody's foyer, inhaling the scent of cleaning fluid. The house was immaculate.

"Mr. Brody?" Elise called out.

At the sound of her voice, there was a distinct sound of shuffling coming from her right. Elise turned the corner into Mr. Brody's living room. As she stared into the room, the peach pie slid from her fingers and landed with a plop on the hardwood floor. "Dougie?"

Doug, her baby, still in high school, was struggling to untangle his briefs from his foot, his face turning bright red. Elise could see everything, from his bare chest to his erect penis. "Mom," Doug gasped, "what are you doing here?"

Elise's eyes fell on the other occupant of the room. It was a man in a wheelchair, who Elise judged to be in his mid-thirties. He had a very good looking face, with graying hair and eyes that were intense behind his spectacles. His naked body, on the other hand, was odd-looking to her, with his think arms and legs and a flabby abdomen. "Who are you?" she said.

"I... I'm Eric Brody," the man stammered.

"You?" Elise shook her head. "But you're so... so young!"

Doug had managed to pull on most of his clothes, but Mr. Brody obviously wasn't capable of getting his clothes on by himself. "Mom, this isn't what it looks like," Doug said.

Elise hadn't even gotten that far yet. She couldn't even begin to imagine why her young son was naked in a room with Old Man Brody, who actually wasn't so old. All she knew was that she was seeing something horribly horribly wrong. But as she began to think, a scenario emerged in her mind. "What have you done to my son?" Elise hissed at Mr. Brody. "How did you manipulate him into this?"

Doug looked over at Mr. Brody, waiting to see what he would say. Doug had never seen Mr. Brody look quite so sad. His shoulders sagged and his eyes were lowered. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Martin," he said. "This whole thing... it's entirely my fault."

Doug saw the anger on his mother's face and knew he had to do something. "That's not true," he spoke up. "This was all my idea. Mr. Brody is paying me."

Mr. Brody looked over at Doug with horror on his face and suddenly Doug realized that this was the worst possible thing he could have said. "You're paying him?" Doug's mother shrieked. "What the hell is wrong with you, you... you pervert!"

Mr. Brody just shook his head sadly. "Mrs. Martin, I'm so so sorry."

"That's all you have to say?" she demanded.

Eric Brody blinked at her. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

It all came out, just as Eric had feared. The whole neighborhood found out about the prostitutes he had been hiring over the years, contaminating their quiet little suburban town. The outcry was tremendous. Eric received hatemail, angry phone calls, and even a rock through his window. The message was clear: they wanted Eric out.

Eric obliged, although he felt sad about leaving. He had lived in that house for ten years. Everything was set up just the way he wanted it. He feared that in a new house, he might not be as independent, at least not at first. Yet, this whole incident seemed like it could be a blessing in disguise. After all, the Japanese used the same word for "crisis" as they do for "opportunity." Maybe it was time to get out of his rut. He was too young to give up on the possibility of meeting someone. Maybe he had just been looking in the wrong places.

That's how Eric made the decision to move to the Village. After all, it was a great place to live for a young, attractive, single gay man on the prowl. There had to be some guys out there who'd be interested in a cripple like him. It would be nice to get sex without paying for it. Doug had given him a small taste of what a relationship might be like and Eric found he enjoyed it.

Doug was forbidden to ever see Eric again. No surprises there. Mrs. Martin didn't resort to hatemail or phone calls-she sent her husband over to personally get the message across. Harvey Martin came to Eric's house and forced his way inside. "You sick fuck," Martin said, grabbing Eric by the collar. "If you go near my son again, I'll make it so you need a machine just to help you breathe. You got me, Brody?"

In a funny way, it almost reminded Eric of his own father. Eric's dad had known he liked boys even before Eric did. If Eric hadn't been injured, his teenage years probably would have consisted of a lot of slammed doors and sneaking around. As it happened, the two men just quietly resented each other. The only exception was a Christmas dinner when Eric was thirty; while his mother was in the kitchen, his father had leaned forward and whispered: "If you ever let your mother find out you're a faggot, I'll break every bone in your body. I swear to fucking god, Eric." After Eric's mother died, he never had anything to do with his father again.

Eric hired people to do most of his packing for him. He wound up getting rid of a lot of his furniture, because the place in the Village was a lot smaller than his house. On one hand, it would be a lot harder for him to get around this new apartment, but on the other hand, the upkeep would be much cheaper and easier. Eric might have considered selling or giving his old furniture to neighbors, but he knew everyone hated him too take any of his furniture, so he gave it all to Goodwill.

The day finally arrived that Eric was set to leave his house. A lot of his stuff had already been moved to his new apartment and he had just hired a van to transport him and the remainder of his things. The way the van was set up, Eric's wheelchair could fit in the back while he stayed in it. He brought his laptop so that he could do work during the ride.

As Eric wheeled himself toward the van, he couldn't help but feel a bit nostalgic. He had lived in this neighborhood for a long time. He truly hated to leave. But this new life would be different-better. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life as a hermit.

"Mr. Brody! Wait!"

Eric wheeled around and saw Doug standing on his lawn (soon to be someone else's lawn). Despite everything Doug had done, Eric had to smile. He loved Doug. Eric hit the brakes on his chair. "Your father is going to murder me if he sees you here," Eric said.

"Dad's all talk," Doug said. "Besides, I'm eighteen. I can do what I want."

"I'm glad you came, Doug," Eric said. "I wanted a chance to say goodbye."

"I'm sorry about what happened," Doug said, hanging his head. "It was all my fault. If not for me, you wouldn't have to leave."

Eric melted. Doug was such a nice kid. "It's better this way, anyway. I don't think I liked myself very much when I was living here."

"You didn't like being the cranky old man?"

Eric laughed. "It had its moments..."

"You got a new place quick," Doug commented. "What's it like?"

"It's not a house," Eric said. "But I like it."

"Does it have room for another person?" Doug raised an eyebrow.

Eric frowned. What? "It's a two bedroom apartment. Why?"

"Because I thought maybe... after I graduate... I could come stay with you..."

"I don't know if I could afford that," Eric laughed.

"You wouldn't have to pay me," Doug said. "In fact, I'd like to contribute half the rent once I get a job."

Eric stared at Doug. What was he saying? Was this young, beautiful boy saying that he wanted to share his life with a cripple? Eric looked down at his hands in their splints. No, he must have misunderstood. "I guess you could take the extra bedroom, if you want..."

"Well, I was thinking we'd share the same bedroom..."

"Goddamn it, Doug!" Eric shut his eyes, counted to ten, then opened them again. "Haven't you fucked things up enough for both of us? Why aren't you going to college next year? That's what kids your age are supposed to do-go to college. What the fuck do you want to waste your time with me for? Jesus Christ..."

Doug's eyes filled with tears. "Because I love you, Eric."

Eric shook his head. "Oh, no. No, you don't..."

"I do!" Doug cried. "Listen, don't tell me what I feel! All I've thought about the last month is you. I can't get you out of my head. I've never felt this way before..."

"Yeah, you're only eighteen."

"You're almost forty. Have you ever felt this way before?" Doug challenged him.

"But I'm a freak." Eric looked away. "Is this really what you want?"

"Yes," Doug said without hesitation. "As soon as I graduate, I want to be with you."

"Your parents will never forgive you."

"It's my life."

Maybe it was a mistake, but Eric had never felt as happy as he did with Doug. He wanted to be with Doug. It amazed him that Doug somehow felt the same way. "There's no way you could afford half the rent," Eric said.

"I'll pay whatever I can," Doug offered.

"You better," Eric said, "or else I'll throw you out your ass."

Doug smiled. "Well, you can do something to my ass."

Eric laughed. He no longer had any misgivings about leaving this neighborhood. After all, he was coming away with the best part of it.

THE END