People don't talk about how disabled folks get physical connection. Not really. They talk around it. About care. About medical stuff. But not about skin. About wanting to be held. About sex.
Sarah was different. She didn't flinch when I transferred from my wheelchair. Didn't look uncomfortable. Just... professional. Human. She understood that for me, this wasn't just a transaction. This was access. To something most people take for granted.
My body works differently. Spasms. Limited mobility. Constant pain. Most potential partners run before we even get close. But escorts who are good at their job understand adaptation. They know how to move with me. How to position things. How to make it work.
I'm not ashamed to say I've cried after good encounters. Not from the sex itself. From being seen. From being touched like I'm a complete person. Not a problem to be solved or pitied.
This isn't about getting off. It's about human connection. About feeling wanted. About existing in a world that often pretends bodies like mine don't have desires.