A man in an iron lung who wishes to lose his virginity contacts a professional sex surrogate with the help of his therapist and priest.

Mark O'Brien: I believe in a God with a sense of humor. I would find it absolutely intolerable not to be to able blame someone for all this.
Susan: Would you like me to visit you?
Mark O'Brien: Are you married?
Susan: No.
Mark O'Brien: Do you have a steady boyfriend?
Susan: No.
Mark O'Brien: Then please visit as often as you can.
Father Brendan: [speaking about Mark's decision to find a sex surrogate] I have a feeling that God is going to give you a free pass on this one. Go for it.
Mark O'Brien: What happens when...?
Cheryl: What happens when what?
Mark O'Brien: When people become attached to each other.
Cheryl: What people?
Mark O'Brien: Just people.
Mark O'Brien: What's the chemistry in it all? When people are attracted to each other.
Cheryl: Are you attracted to me?
Mark O'Brien: God, no.
Cheryl: Ha-ha-ha.
Mark O'Brien: I'm just talking hypothetically.
Cheryl: Hypothetically... they write poems. They have sex.
Mark O'Brien: And what happens next?
Cheryl: After poetry and sex? Nothing or everything. The rest is by negotiation, as it were.
Mark O'Brien: What do you mean?
Cheryl: I mean, you can leave it at love and attraction... or you can make things complicated, like most people do.
Mark O'Brien: Have you?
Cheryl: Yes.
Joan: [pushing his gurney] Would you mind if I asked you a favor?
Mark O'Brien: What, you need help moving furniture?
Mark O'Brien: [lying in iron lung] Breathing. Look you. This most excellent canopy, the air, presses down upon me at fifteen pounds per square inch. A dense, heavy, blue glowing ocean, teasing me with its nearness and immensity. And all I get is a thin stream of it. A finger's width of the rope that ties me to life.
[cat brushes his nose with its tail]
Mark O'Brien: Shit. Okay, just focus. Scratch with your mind. Okay, your mind. Scratch with your mind.
Cheryl: Hi Mark O'Brien!
Mark O'Brien: Your money is on the desk over there.
Cheryl: Yes it is! Thank you!
Mark O'Brien: I didn't know whether to pay you now or after.
Cheryl: I'm not a prostitute, so you don't have to pay me up front.
Mark O'Brien: That was the wrong way to start off.
Cheryl: It really was! Shall we start again?
Mark O'Brien: My penis talks to me, Father Brendan.
Cheryl: Now I'm converting to Judaism.
Mark O'Brien: Well, it's good to have some kind of insurance.
Cheryl: I understand you're able to have an erection.
Mark O'Brien: Not by choice.
Cheryl: You're a fully-fledged male Homo sapien endowed with a handsome and substantial penis, which now has a proven track record.
Cheryl: I'm going to rub the tip of your penis around my vulva. And when it's ready, I'll guide you in. Breathe slowly and think of something delicious.
[first lines]
Himself - Reporter: Mark O'Brien has been going to UC Berkley since 1978. That's O'Brien in the motorized gurney heading for class last week. He had polio when he was six years old. The disease left his body crippled, but his mind remained sharp and alert. And since he wanted to be a writer, Mark O'Brien entered Cal to major in English and learn his trade. He wrote this poem for us about school here and about graduation.
Mark O'Brien: Graduation. Today I hear the crowd's applause. Receive the congratulations from my friends. Today I ask if I've found a place among the rest, who studied, read, wrote, and passed the test in cap and gown. Today I hope you see a man upon this stage.
Cheryl: Shall we get undressed?
Mark O'Brien: Sure!
Mark O'Brien: Why go to Germany? It's the only place in the world where humor is forbidden.
Mark O'Brien: This is not exactly a confession, I haven't yet done the deed. I was sort of hoping to get a quote in advance.
Vera: Will you stop acting like you're going to your own execution.
Mark O'Brien: I'm not acting.
Clerk: Now, come on, what kind of therapist is she?
Vera: I told you, she's a sex therapist. Today they're working on "simultaneous orgasm".
Clerk: What's that?