He anchored his legs on either side of my wheelchair, planting his feet firmly on the ground, providing me an all access pass to him and his cock. This is one of those tiny perks as a Queer Cripple, one of those little magic moments that you don’t ever take for granted and use to your advantage whenever you have the chance - being sexy and seated means that you are almost always at crotch level, and this is never a bad thing. As he unzipped his pants, teasing me with anticipation, he pushed my head off my headrest and down into him. I took that moment in, burning it into my memory. I remember that as he positioned my head, straddling me in my chair. As his cock sprang to attention, him motioning it toward my mouth, I paused.
As a man with severe physical disabilities living with Cerebral Palsy, I don’t have much say in how my body chooses to move or what it wants to do. I can’t bend myself into a pretzel with a lover, or recreate the Kama Sutra with him; my spastic body just won’t allow for such luxuries in lust. One thing I seem to have pretty good control over is my mouth muscles. I know how to flap my lips, and I certainly talk about how talented I am in “smoking pole.
There I was, the “boy in the chair”, all of 19 years old and freshly away from home, finally getting the chance to be with another man; touch him, smell him and suck him, and embrace these two identities that are never talked about, seen or sexualized. It was one of my first times sucking cock, and all these forbidden things: queerness, sexuality and disability were coming to a head in one beautifully political act. Just as I was getting comfortable in that moment, I heard a voice in my head telling me that I had better give him the best blowjob of his life, because if I didn’t, I would have nothing else to offer. The voice I heard, goading me own was my own. I was terrified that I would somehow fail at this act, and as a result fail at sex altogether. I was (and still am) too scared to try anal, fearing that my muscles wouldn’t relax enough for anyone to enter me. So, this was my chance. It was time for this gimp to give it good.
I opened my mouth wide, and started mimicking all the acts that I had seen performed. Wait. I realized very quickly that something wasn’t quite going as I had hoped. My body was jerking, stopping and starting in spastic fits, as I tried to recreate the porn scenes I had so eagerly devoured and deconstructed. It must have looked really weird! I was unable to take him in one smooth motion as I had planned to. I was having trouble holding his dick in my hands and blowing him at the same time. My disabled hands, trying desperately to relax so I didn’t hurt him, were unable to do so. I thought, “Fuck, body, you had one job. Don’t fail me now.” I kept pushing myself to do this one thing right. I wanted to show him that I was good at something in bed, that despite the fact my body couldn’t do what he might have expected, I could do this, and do it well. If I couldn’t even fellate him, what fun was I?
As he thrust himself in my mouth, I tried my best to take it like a champ. Of course, right then, my spastic gag reflex kicked in. I couldn’t relax, I couldn’t breathe, and I was pretty sure that gagging violently (not in the sexy way”) on his dick wasn’t all that appealing. Shit! He stopped to make sure that I was okay, and I motioned that I was, continuing my sad attempt at suckery.
He saw that I was struggling with this and we stopped. He told me that everything would be okay, and not to worry about it (I have come to learn that the phrase “don’t worry about it” in reference to sex, is never a good sign). I remember that he put on his jeans, said a short, curt goodbye and left. I could still taste him in my mouth, along with the utter disappointment that I had done it all wrong. It stung pretty bad, and for a long time afterward that experience made me worry that my skills at fellatio would be forever flawed.
Since then, I don’t really know if I have gotten any better at giving good oral sex. Others have flashed that same disappointed look which reads, “He can’t even do this?!” which, I am sure in some small way, solidifies their sneaking suspicions that disabled people can’t even have sex after all. With each and every encounter though, I learn a different technique than I had before; only take the tip, breathe as you need to, and go at your own pace. I have also learned that oral sex isn’t so much about the technical aspects, but has a lot to do with performance and play. I love the teasing, touching and body contact that oral sex offers. I’ve learned to go slow - take my time - and enjoy the show.
In our communities, it seems that oral sex is considered less than real. We laugh it off and say, “Oh, it’s just oral.” Oral sex is so much more than simply a prelude to anal, and it is “real sex.” It doesn’t adhere to our broken binaries of “top” and “bottom” that seem to keep queer and gay men shackled to toxic stereotypes of what gay and/or queer is supposed to look like. It asks us to really be with someone, caressing every curve of queerness with all of our senses. It asks us to be vulnerable as gay men, and tap into our sensuality, not just our sexuality. When you engage in it with me, I invite you to share in my queer crippled experience, and connect with me and my disability.
Rather than worrying about giving my lovers “the best head ever”, because that’s all I have to offer them, I try to remember what this experience is for me. It is my chance to connect with my queer crippled identity, to share that part of myself with someone, and to give them the opportunity to go deeper into disability than ever before.