This is one of very first works I wrote on the topic. It’s probably more than 15 years old. Unfortunately, I used to write in my mother language at that time, so the story had to undergo the translation quite recently and it has probably lost a part of its “early-works” scent. Anyway, I hope you will like it nonetheless 🙂

Me and the teacher

by StarDust

I had finished my oral exams. The classroom went silent, it was only me and our biology teacher there. I waited for the evaluation patiently. Outside, it had got dark already, as I could see through windows, and I guessed it might have been past six o’clock. We were surely last persons in the biology department of the college by now, and we were perhaps last ones in the whole college too. I was still waiting for the teacher‘s conclusion, and I hoped she would let me go home soon.

I watched her with anxiety. She was sitting in the wheelchair behind the desk, and was looking into her notes. Standing in front of the blackboard, I saw her from the account. She wore a long white lab-coat and I was wondering why. It had even been buttoned up completely. Perhaps she considered it to be a sort of an official dress for every biologist, something like a professional uniform. The coat ended just above the knees and thus revealed their pointy joints and slim calves in a black opaque pantyhose. She must have had a skirt under the lab-coat, I wondered to myself. She wore shiny-black, elegant, high heel shoes with a thin strap running above the ankle, complemented with a tiny black buckle on the outer side of it.

About a half a year ago or so, she had returned from a long-term therapy. As far as I knew, she suffered from a sort of neurological disease, which had resulted in the loss of control over muscles in her legs. She coped with her physical limitations and with the fact the college was not wheelchair accessible (except for the biology ward that had been modified just before her return), in a strange way. To move across different parts of the college and for going home and back to the work, she would use full-length leg braces that kept her legs rigid and bore the weight of her slim body instead of them. When walking with braces, she had to use forearm crutches and propel herself around using her strong arms.

Occasionally I saw her going up and down the stairs, which was the action that caused big troubles to her and must costed her a lot of energy. She had quickly built up a kind of routine of it, but it was still obvious how much she had to struggle. Besides that, a wheelchair was at all times ready in her office, and she would transfer in it each morning after having removed her leg braces. Then she would push herself in the wheelchair along the biology ward for the rest of the day.

Eventually the teacher looked at me and said: “Alright. It’s getting late already, I’m not going to torture you any longer. I classify you with an A-degree.”

I smiled at her with relief and thanked.

“So, we can go home,” she said in an informal tone and started to gather her stuff on the desk. “Don’t you live somewhere near by my place?”

I knew exactly where she lived and, indeed, it was very close to our house. So I answered: “Yes. I live just two streets away from you.”

“I can drive you home then,” she offered. “That is, if you would be so kind to help me change, so we don’t lose more time now. Deal?”

“Perfect!” I agreed on the proposal.

“Let’s go then,” she exclaimed, and grabbing the rims of wheels, she backed her wheelchair from the desk.

I went to my place and packed books and notes in my bag. The teacher had reached the door in the meantime, and I rushed to open it for her. She pushed herself through the door, out to the corridor. She had stacked her belongings on the lap, as she used both arms to propel wheels of the wheelchair.

“May I?” I asked and pointed to handles at the back of the chair.

“Would be nice of you,” she agreed happily. “I’m getting tired of having to push myself around the whole day.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I answered with empathy. I grabbed handles of the wheelchair and started to push. The wheelchair glided along smoothly, but I could feel the mass of it and the teacher‘s body in it. It must be hard to have to fight with it the whole day.

I pushed my teacher up to the door to her office. She reached forward, unlocked the door and opened it. The wing swung inside the room. I pushed the wheelchair through the doorframe. The office was reasonably big and there was not much of a furniture in it. It must have made manoeuvring of the wheelchair easier for her, I guessed.

On the other side of the room, right opposite to the main door, was a single, large window. Under it stood a big desk, positioned in a way to let the sunlight come from the left-hand side of it. There was no chair standing behind the desk, but there were two chairs located by the small table apart, used probably by visitors. Behind the table was a simple, although large, couch that filled the space up to the wall. At the end of the couch I saw two braces, which she used to put on her legs, standing on their own and two crutches leaned against the wall.

To the right of the couch, there was a door that led directly to the classroom where I had been doing my exams just recently. But the teacher didn’t use the door because the classroom was organized in stages, so she would have to climb up and down several steps to get to her place, and that was something she could not manage in the wheelchair.

Close to the main door, on the right side of it, was the wash-hand basin. The wall to the left was occupied by big closets and shelves full of books. Some of them were placed so high that she surely could not reach them from the wheelchair.

While I was closing the door behind us, she had pushed herself to the desk, where she removed the stuff that she had been carrying on her lap. I stood in the middle of the room, not knowing what to do. Eventually, the teacher backed the wheelchair from behind the desk and turned around. Then she rolled towards me.

“Help me with the coat first, please,” she said and started to unbutton the snow white cloth when she got closer.

I watched her doing it, waiting until she would be finished with it. During the process, first the white blouse and then the dark red skirt were revealed from under the coat. Finally, the teacher grabbed armrests of the wheelchair, pushed firmly onto them and hoisted her slim body frame up in the air.

“Please, pull it out from under me,” she requested and looked at me. I leaned over and pulled the loose lab-coat from under her airborne bottom. “Now smooth the skirt for me, please,” she commanded.

There was a slit on the front of the skirt running along the entire length of it. Flaps of the skirt were meant to overlap, and they were clasped together at the waist by a button. Now the flaps were messed up, as the back of the skirt had ridden up a bit, and revealed teacher‘s thighs partially. I just pulled the bottom hem of the skirt down, and flaps rearranged themselves. The teacher lowered herself back onto the seat, but remained in the middle of it, not touching the backrest this time. That allowed her to slip the coat from her shoulders and the back easily, which I helped her with, ever so gallantly. The white blouse was made of smooth and glossy fabric with a fly of buttons on the front, covered over by the plain strip of the same material. There was a collar on top, and the cleavage had been cut surprisingly low.

The teacher used a hand to lift the thigh of her right leg up a bit, then leaned forward and grabbed the limp lower leg with the other hand. She raised the whole leg up and draped it over the left one. She leaned deep forward again and started to unbuckle the little strap on the pump on her dangling foot.

“Fold up the right legrest plate, please,” she begged.

I knelt down on one knee and did as she wished. teacher‘s legs were only few centimetres from my face, and I could inspect through the pantyhose their gentle curves. The loosened pump had slipped from the lifeless foot and fell to the floor.

“Damn,” she cursed at that.

I picked up the shoe and handed it to her. The teacher placed it in her lap and returned the right leg to its usual position. The bare foot ended up on the carpet since there was no leg rest anymore.

“If you don’t mind, I will take off your other shoe myself,” I suggested with a comforting smile. She agreed after a moment of hesitation.

I lifted the left leg from the legrest gently, holding it by the calf. I was surprised by the softness and suppleness that I could feel inside my palm. The foot, stretched inside the high-heeled pump, drooped and straightened even more, once not supported by the solid plate. I unfastened the thin belt and pulled on the shoe to let it slip off the nylon clad foot.

I handed the shoe to the teacher again, and still holding the leg by the calf, I folded up the other legrest. Then I straightened the dangling, and a bit curled-in, foot with the Free hand and planted it ever so gently on the carpet, right beside its sibling. Then I looked up to the teacher, awaiting next commands.

“Would you put them into the bag, that’s by the couch?” she asked handing me the shoes. I did that.

In the meantime she had rolled herself to the couch and parked sideways to it. Since she was sitting a bit more forward than usual, and her feet had been placed on the floor, they twisted and curled oddly in the process, having been dragged mercilessly along, under the wheelchair. I could not get my eyes off them.

When the teacher came to a stop, finally, she pulled her poor feet out from under the wheelchair and straightened legs as far as efficient in front of her, in parallel to the couch. Then she applied brakes and unconsciously rearranged her hair that had got ruffled a little from all that leaning forward.

Then she raised up the left armrest, the one closer to the couch. She scooted her bum to the side of the seat, leaned left, and planted a hand on the couch. She placed the other hand on the chair seat, right beside the buttock. After that, she tried to push on them, but had to give up a way too quickly. She re-adjusted the position of both hands slightly, took a deep breath and pushed hard again.

This time she managed to hoist her lifeless bottom over the wheelchair wheel, and onto the couch, in one smooth move. She uttered a short sigh of relief and pushed up on the couch again to move her bum further on. Then she leaned forward and brought the left leg up on cushions. She straightened it there, and I quickly stepped closer. I picked up the other leg for her and straightened it beside its partner.

The teacher pushed with arms again and managed to lift her bottom up, just a tiny bit above the soft cushion. She asked me to roll the skirt up to her waist for her. While I was doing that, I could feel the unusual softness of her thighs, the small, somewhat pointy Ass of hers, and I could also take a glance at her nicely shaped bosom, hidden under the blouse.

“Thank you,” she said when she let her bum drop onto the cushions again. “Now bring the brace for my left leg, please. You will distinguish it by the shoe.”

I went to where braces were standing. They both had a modern flat shoe, with a lacy closing on front, mounted on the bottom end. I took the one with the left shoe and brought it up on the couch. The teacher grabbed the left leg under the knee, and letting it bend there, she brought it closer to herself. Then she reached with the other hand, grabbed the shin above the ankle and lifted the whole leg up in the air completely. I understood quickly and inserted the brace under it.

“Loose laces and open the shoe wide,” the teacher instructed me, and I obeyed immediately. “Now grab my leg by the heel and guide the foot inside the shoe, please.”

I did that according to her instructions. The foot was so flaccid and supple, that it didn’t want to slip inside, at first. I had to support it with my other hand and literally push it inside the footwear. Once in, finally, the teacher lowered the leg between metal bars that ran up along each side of the brace. While I was lacing up the shoe, the teacher inspected the position of the leg thoroughly and adjusted it slightly here and there. Then she closed and tightened the leather belt that was placed high on the thigh, at the top of the brace. She asked me to do the same with the similar belt located just under the knee, while she did the same with one above the joint.

When we were both done, she checked all three belts again and smiled at me: “Now the right leg, please!”

I brought the right leg brace, and we repeated the whole procedure. Not long after, she sat on the couch with legs encased tightly inside the braces resting in front of her. We both watched those legs and were thinking about different things, probably. As for me, I just admired them, moved by their obvious vulnerability. The teacher sat silently, apparently lost in her own thoughts, propped up by arms behind her back, skirt still rolled up around the waist, slender legs in black nylon trapped inside the metal and leather contraption.

“What now?” I asked plainly.

She leaned forward and pushed the right leg to the side, so its foot slid over the edge of the couch. Then she scooted herself forward over the soft surface of cushions. Somehow I understood that she wanted to move to the other side of the couch, which was not blocked by the wheelchair.

teacher‘s right leg had already touched the floor, while the left just bent at the knee and sort-of slipped towards the couch edge. She arranged them using her hands and scooted herself further. Now both her feet were on the floor, knees immodestly spread to sides. Another push, and the teacher was sitting close to the opposite end of the couch.

“Now straighten the legs for me, please,” she asked, and I dropped to the floor by her crippled limbs and grabbing the cold, metal construction, I straightened them in front of her. Feet in flat shoes were pointing upward in a strange manner. The teacher leaned forward and locked knee locks on both braces.

“Lean crutches against the table and help me get up on my legs, ok? Then you will hand me the crutches, alright?”

I took the sticks and propped them against the table in a place where I could reach them easily while still supporting the teacher. Then I leaned over her, and she extended her arms to me. She smiled at me encouragingly. I took the hold of her under the armpits, while she wrapped arms around my neck and shoulders.

“One, two,” the teacher counted, and at ‘three’, I pulled up. She clung onto me, and I raised her up into a standing position. Her pelvis uncontrollably hit mine, the pair of nice breasts pressed on my chest. The teacher was swaying in an attempt to discover the balance, trying to steady her pelvis with the remnants of muscles that she could still control. She hung onto me heavily, our heads close to each other. Eventually, she had managed to gain a kind of a balance, and I could feel our embrace loosen.

“Now we look like doing a bear hug,” I laughed.

The teacher craned her head back to look in my face, and I did the same. We were still holding each other because she was not able to stand on her own entirely. I held her around the waist, and our pelvises were touching. We just kept looking into each other’s eyes.

“Actually, we are really embracing one another now,” she admitted with a smile.

Suddenly I became aware of me putting into the embracement more than just a will to help. I realized I was genuinely enjoying the moment. The slim waist under my arm, the soft touch of her breasts, the pelvis pressed hard onto my own – this all had quickly started to fill me with desire, up to the point where I did lose my self-control and let the lust took the better of me. I leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the mouth.

I craned my head back and looked into her face again. Her eyes went wider, but showed just pure amusement and pleased surprise.

“Once more,” she whispered seductively.

Slowly, our heads neared one another again, until we ended up in a deep long kiss. I wrapped also my other arm around her back and started to caress her there. Through the thin fabric of the blouse, I could feel the animal warmth of her body and the well-developed muscles higher on her back. Moreover, every time, when I loosened my hug, I could feel her begin to fall or wobble to one side or another. Strangely enough, it seemed to add to my excitement. I pulled her tighter to me to steady her again. We kept kissing each other, and she started to caress my upper arms.

“You should better hand me my crutches now,” she said softly when our mouths finally parted. “But you’ll have to lift me up a bit first because my legs don’t seem to be placed properly under me.”

I moved my arms lower on her back, pulled the teacher to me even more tightly and stood on tip toes. I felt her legs, clad in heavy braces, hang lifelessly in the air, and when they stopped swaying, I lowered her gently down, letting the rigid legs bear her body-weight again.

I pulled away from the woman in front of me and removed one of my hands from her. The other one I still kept on her side and held her in the well-balanced position. She also dropped one of her hands while still holding onto my shoulder with the other one. I moved, very carefully, and reached for one of crutches, which I then handed to her. She slipped the Free arm through the plastic loop at the end of the crutch and gripped the handle tightly. She searched for the right position of the crutch tip to be able to shift her weight onto it safely.

Once she was finally satisfied with the crutch placement, I felt her lean onto it heavily to be able to Free the other arm. When the arm let go of my shoulder, I handed her the second crutch. She planted it hard to the carpet and shifted part of her weight onto it too. Then she pushed with both arms to ease off braced legs and, with a twist of hips, she made them turn around slightly. Quick reposition of crutches and, after repeating it all over another two times, she managed to turn herself by 90 degrees. She ended up leaning deep forward onto sticks that held the most of her body-weight, with the shapely buttocks jutting provocatively back.

After I had witnessed in detail all the struggle she had to go through to just get herself up on her legs, I felt a gigantic respect and admiration to her. I couldn’t find out how she could ever manage to do it all by herself only. Somewhere inside me, a desire and urge have born, and I wished I could at all times be by her side, whenever she would need a help again. I was sure this adorable lady did deserve more comfort and easiness in her life.

“Straighten up my skirt, please,” she asked, dragging me out of my thoughts.

I dropped down and adjusted and rearranged the skirt. While I was behind her, with the sexy Ass only centimetres from my face, I could not withstand and inserted a hand under the skirt and caressed the thigh between leather straps that held the brace on the leg. The teacher showed no reaction, so I moved my hand lower and caressed her toneless calf, enjoying its surprising softness. Then I realized she started to breathe noticeably faster. I blushed and stood up swiftly.

When she noticed me standing again, she just closed her eyes and pouted lips. I got the hint with a sheer relief and feel of happiness. For a short moment I wondered I might have spoiled it all, completely. But this reaction of her was the one of approval, and I felt like a heavy rock had fallen down from my heart.

I took her face in both hands thankfully and kissed those red lips of hers. Then I started to cares her shoulders, upper arms and forearms. I could feel strong muscles under the silken fabric of the blouse, as they tensed from the effort of holding the maimed body up. I covered her small hands, which were gripping crutch handles ever so firmly, with mines and cupped them lovingly, at all times kissing her gently.