Story – First time since

“Mmm, I thought I heard it was only going to be the arm…”
“You did, darling, but I just changed my mind.”
“And what made you?”
“A sudden and uncontrollable desire to see you naked,” he replied, raising his eyebrow and chucking.

Standing behind her and looking over her shoulder, her broad, charmed smile reflecting in the mirror and her body lightly squirming made clear she wasn’t objecting., so he proceeded with his change of plans. Beside her prosthesis, he also took off her bra. It first revealed the short stump of her amputated right arm, then the voluptuous beauty of her breasts.
Seeing her finally enjoy this again felt both heart-warming and exciting. She was still coming to terms with the sudden loss of her arm. Within three weeks, an unsuspecting visit to the doctor, a more worrying one to the hospital and an ominous diagnosis, had changed a persistent pain into an arm taken off. To be safe, the amputation had been done shoulder high, leaving a mere few inches of stump and a hell of a lot to adapt to. And then there was the self-esteem part.

“Tsk, tsk, no flinching, remember?”
“That was definitely a tickle!” she exclaimed.
“So you’re saying it doesn’t count?” he teased, tickling again.

It made her giggle, much to his joy. Touching her stump had long been proverbially touchy. That she’d try not to flinch when he touched, was part of a small agreement to help include the remainder of a lost arm in their physical intimacy. It was also the reason they were standing before the man-high mirror in their bedroom, once installed because they loved watching each other doing things from undressing to fucking, now acting as an aid to practice getting used to the sight of a changed body. They had always had a good sex life, and they were not going to let this get in the way of it.
Emotionally, that was easier said than done, though. It was three months since her arm was amputated, and the physical wounds had healed. There was quite a bit more to losing an arm, though. In her mind, she had fought every week of those three months to now be able to giggle.

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying, sweetie. But it’s a nice tickle.”
“It’s nice to be tickling too.”
“I’m learning to believe you,” she grinned.
“And doing well.”
“I am, eh?”
“And you’re being very sexy while doing well…”
“Mmm, am I…?”
“You are,” he whispered into her ear, firmly.
“Show me how much then…”

Seeing herself in the mirror was tough. She pushed herself to it, though, determined to let the sight feel normal. She was going to live with this, and she knew that really doing that required that she’d become able to look at herself without her stomach twisting, her heart beating over and her breathing faltering. It was hard to look at her missing arm and really believe what he just said, just like it was blatantly clear there was no option but to learn that. If she wished all pleasures of their sex life to return with old intensity, she would need to feel at ease to sex with one arm, and enjoy her stump be a physical part of their intimacy like any other part of her body.

She hadn’t tried it yet, not sexing; not been in the mood for it. There’d been hugging, loving kisses, fondling, everything lovers do to show affection. Apart from ‘that’. Sex was so intensely about touching that the mere idea of surrendering to intimate caress caused a block, a confronting crash with realising her principal body part to touch with was no longer there. At the same time, however, there was the longing to be loved and cherished. And it was deep. At the same time also, there were her natural desires, deep as well. The frequent sex they’d always had, was not from masculine urges alone, far from. She liked to call herself a healthy girl, she loved being married to a healthy guy and the loss of her arm had only managed to bury that healthiness temporarily. The amputation may have also cut out part of her self esteem, it hadn’t lost her the desire to be the subject of his wanting her. And eversince the very worst of the blow was overcome, it acted as the drive to overcome more, hurdle by hurdle but unstoppably so.
And now it felt like now was the time to take the last. And the best way to go was to simply jump into the deep and see, she decided, her hand reaching back to enter his briefs and grabbing tight around his hard on.

“Argh, that’s how much,” he whispered, groaning deep.
“O my, big boy!” she exclaimed, grinning mischievously into the mirror.
Both their smiles were with a relief that needn’t mentioning. They’d been close to this a couple of times, but he had always left it to her, never pushing and letting her feelings be in charge.
“And you know what?”
“Tell me,” he replied curiously.
He also grabbed her breasts in response to her grin, leering at her as he did. He knew she’d always loved him feasting his eyes on her heavy beauties, as well as feeling his hands respond to the lust they induced in him. Him daring to unleash it was the first time since, though.
“Argh fuck, I’ve missed you doing that…” she instantly exclaimed, panting.
He smiled with relief and joy as he played her nipples hard, feeling her squirm. “Me too, sexy. And what was that you know what again…?”
“That nice boner of yours feeling like new with that other hand,” she giggled.
“Like your hand feeling as if I’ve got a new mistress,” he teased.
“And? Liking her so far?” she whispered, jerking him off lightly.
“Yeah, a lot,” he whispered back, sliding one hand down over her belly, and then into her panties.
“Mmm, missed that too…”
“Me too, like hell…”
“It’s time we put an end to your forced wanker days…” she whispered, sounding determined and pinching his cock invintingly.

She felt her panties slide down, stepped out when they landed on her ankles. She watched his hands in the mirror, stroking from her legs up her body with lust. She didn’t flinch when his erotic attention didn’t exclude her stump. His gentle kneading there felt good, warm, accepting. Yet, the mental image of her arm screamed its physical absense now, fillng her eyes with tears. She didn’t stop them. Neither did he dry them. Just wordless, knowing glances and a mutual will to not stop.

She turned around, seductively escaping from his embrace. She led him to the bed, silently summoned him to lay on his back and straddled on top. A meaningful smile when her sole left hand led him between her thighs. Two deep sighs as he entered, gently and welcomed by her undulating hips. Two deeper sighs as she pushed down with emerging hunger, clenching. And a wink with still tear filled eyes as she did what she always used to do when on top: clasp her hands in her neck to push out her breasts.

Now, it was just one hand, and her short stump jiggling. But it felt good, redeemingly good.

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