“Is this seat free?”
So far, it had been a great saturday. For a change, I had no work to finish during the weekend, the weather was very nice and I had got up early to shoot some photos of the river landscape close to where I live. Photography has been my hobby eversince dad gave me my first camera at age ten and got me hooked. The cheap Ricoh from the days of black & white and film I started with is now a fancy, digital Nikon, the fun has always remained the same.
I was just browsing the result of my photo-shoot over an espresso at a local coffee bar when I heard her asking. I looked up, absently at first, but then my saturday became even greater.
She must have been in her early twenties. A student, was my guess, judging from a clever expression. We have thousands of them where I live. The looks of her pretty face I surveyed only shortly though. There was something else that made her even more interesting. Extremely so. Her right leg was missing, and the tailored jeans she was wearing weren’t hiding. Tightly clad, the contours of a short, round stump indicated she was amputated just below the hip.
“Sure… please…,” I stammered, not really believing my luck.
“Thanks,” she smiled, taking the seat opposite me. She put her crutches away, started searching her handbag, put a book on the table and then eyed me. “Looks like you’ve been shooting pics?”
“Yeah, just inspecting the result,” I replied, observing her a little.
Her vivid eyes were an intriguing light blue, almost reminiscent of a husky dog’s, and they made an unusual contrast with her pitch-black hair. It didn’t look as if she’d dyed it, which made her all the more interesting. My trip to Lapland came to mind. There I had seen this too. I had found it just as intriguing then and I shot loads of pictures of anyone consenting to pose; that’s why I remembered now.
“And, liking your shots?” she inquired, fairly curiously. And noticing my interest in her, of course. Men are not good at hiding, at least I’m not.
“You into photography yourself?” I said, trying to get some conversation going.
“My sis is.”
“Anything in particular?”
“Architectural photography to make a living, portraits because she enjoys it,” she replied.
“This is landscape stuff you may find boring. But I do portraits too.”
“And are you good?”
The cheeky look in her eyes gave me hope. She seemed to enjoy our chat.
“That’s for others to judge?”
“Is it really?” she replied firmly. “You always have an idea yourself, not? At least you should have…”
Her resoluteness was alluring. And it didn’t really help to muffle my excitement. I had never encountered an amputee before, and this wasn’t just any amputee. Any guy’s head would spin from this lady, let alone that of an amputee admirer like me. I found her sheer perfection, in looks and especially in how she was one-legged. Eversince I’ve been aware of my erotic attraction to amputees, high leg amputations stood out by far. With every word I was saying, I couldn’t help envisioning that mesmerisingly sexy stump of hers, now sadly hiding under the table. Or maybe that was for the better. Starting to drool would probably be the least of my concerns if she would have allowed me a closer look.
“Okay, you’re right. And I have,” I replied.
“I think I’m pretty good.”
It didn’t make her look surprised. In fact, she seemed to appreciate me not being overly modest.
“Then I’d like to see what you do, can I?”
“Feel free,” I said, handing her my camera and pointing her where to push to see the next picture.
Her viewing my pics allowed me to observe her more closely. Her expression was not only clever, it was confident as well. As if she wasn’t at all bothered by what she had been dealt with. Or maybe that was just me. After all, she was concentrating on something. It made me think though, wonder how she lost her leg, how long it had been, what she thought of herself.
“Oh yes, I do like your photos,” she commented while still viewing.
“Thanks. Anything specific you like?”
“You have in mind what you want to say and stick to that. Concise, nothing unnecessary added, no cheap drama. I like that.”
“What?” she asked, looking up now.
“It’s exactly what I try to do. Striking.”
“Well, if you do it the right way, it should show, not?”
“Guess you’re right. But nice to hear, still. Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome… mister?”
“Paul, nice to meet you.”
“I’m Aidna, nice to meet you too, Paul.”
“Aidna, unusual name…”
“It’s Sami,” she replied. “My mother is from Lapland.”
I couldn’t hide my amazement.
“And why is that making you look?”
I told her what she had made me think of a few moments ago, and her smiled broadened. “Geesh, what a coincidence! So you know Lapland?”
“I do yes. Beautiful place. Frigging cold too, though.”
It made her laugh. “Yeah, it’s either cold or swamped with mosquitos, except for a couple of weeks between end of winter and the start of spring. That’s really the best time!”
Her enthusiasm made me smile. Also, it almost made me forget she was missing her right leg. My only experience with amputee women was pictures on the internet, and pictures don’t talk. This pretty young woman did, and she was a pleasure to listen to.
“What time where you there?”
“November’s great too. Not too cold yet if you’re lucky, yet all the still beauty of winter. Wow, this is fun. Any idea how often I run into someone who’s actually been there?”
“About as often as I run into a spontaneous chat with a beautiful woman?” I asked back with a cheeky grin.
“That wouldn’t be too rare for you? You’re pretty good at it,” she replied with a charmed smile.
“It’s your beauty, Aidna. Not my talent. And shall we have another coffee?”
“You’re flattering me. And espresso would be lovely.”
I waved the waitress, holding up two fingers and then pointing at my empty first espresso. It did the job, so I could swiftly return my attention to the captivating Aidna.
“Did you do all the tourist stuff?” she continued asking.
“All of it! I did a snow scooter trip, spent two days in a dogsled, I ate reindeer meat and I did… telemarking,” I replied, realising I would’ve better not mentioned the latter. Cross country skiing like telemarking would not be an option for her. And she noticed my hesitation.
“It’s okay,” she said, smiling reassuringly. “Don’t hide what you enjoy doing because it’s something I can’t do.”
“Wasn’t sure how you’d take it.”
“I can take it. And it’s taking you long, by the way.”
“The question I’m usually getting first,” she said, smiling while patting her stump.
“Okay, I’m asking then. If you don’t mind?”
“Not at all,” she smiled. “I had a rare case of bone cancer at very young age. I was five years old when they took my leg off. I survived the cancer and then I grew up, knowing no better than one leg being perfectly normal.”
“Sorry to hear the first part, happy to hear the latter. Must not be easy though, I imagine?”
She shrugged and smiled untouched. “Like I said, I hardly have memory of being two-legged, so for me this is simply how I am.”
“Makes sense,” I nodded. “And is my impression correct that you don’t seem to be too bothered by it?”
“What should I be bothered about, something I don’t miss?” she smiled.
“You really don’t then?”
“No, I really don’t. Of course I see and know I look different, but I have no awareness of missing anything. Apart from early childhood that I only have very vague memory of, I never had a right leg. So I don’t long for one and I’m not bothered by not having one. Like I said, this is me, my whole me.”
“You could be bothered by what others think of you?”
“That’s a waste of time,” she replied, again firmly and instantly. “I don’t wanna have anything to do with people who find me off-putting.”
Her self-assurance impressed me, somewhat confusingly so. For me, coming to terms with this weird liking of mine included that I’d respect and take into account that a woman missing a leg would find it terrible what had happened to her. The one-legged Aidna I was talking to showed no such signs, though. This was a sexy young woman who neither felt devastated nor insecure. And she was also pretty observant.
“And furthermore, I didn’t really notice you being bothered either…?”
“You’re right,” I smiled. “How did you know?”
“People who find it off-putting look differently. Quite unlike you just did.”
“You’re perceptive,” I smiled, vaguely and not really at ease with how effortlessly the beautiful Aidna was reading me.
“Your two espresso’s,” the waitress interrupted us, to my relief. It gave me some time to ponder my tactics.
“Thanks. On my tab, please?”
“Sure,” she nodded, putting the cups on the table. “Can I get you anything else?”
“We’re okay, thanks. Unless you…?” I asked, looking at Aidna.
“Just the espresso is fine,” she smiled.
Admitting to her that I feel erotically attracted to amputees was a huge risk. It might offend her and ruin this nice chat abruptly. On the other hand would any further contact in the future – I was dearly hoping for that, of course – require that I be open to her, unless I wanted to torture myself with keeping it secret. Furthermore, I wasn’t expecting to get away with that. During the mere couple of minutes of this conversation, she’d already demonstrated ample proof of being able to read me with exactness bordering on discomfort. At the same time, that exactness made her incredibly attractive. In short, I was suffering from a dilemma.
Hardly surprisingly, Aidna stuck to the subject as soon as the waitress was gone. “Learning to be observant comes with the package, Paul,” she resumed, sipping her espresso with a whiff of mystique.
“Any more observations then?” I asked, attempting to find out as much as I could.
“I noticed a sparkle in your eyes when you first looked at me.”
She nodded, looking pretty sure of herself. “I don’t see that often. I also think first impressions are very meaningful.”
“My first impression was finding you beautiful?” I tried.
“Hmm, somehow I thought the sparkle came when you saw my stump?” she insisted.
“Could be,” I replied, increasingly not at ease. “I don’t think I ever saw an amputee before, from this close I mean.”
“You don’t think…?” she replied, looking straight into my eyes. “I bet you know better then that?”
She was grilling me. Enjoying it too. However, she was also giving me the impression that my erotic fascination was not unknown to her.
“What makes you think that?” I asked, trying to hold my ground.
“Just female intuition. That isn’t wrong too often, by the way.”
“It isn’t now,” I smiled. “Actually I’m sure I never saw one before.”
“You would’ve remembered eh?”
“Incidentally, meaningful works both ways,” she then said, somewhat cryptically.
“As in me not minding if you’d be attracted to how I look, if you would be…?” she replied, observing me intently. “I was actually planning to read my book, but that twinkle in your eyes made me change my mind and start a chat with you.”
“Cunningly leaving me to think I started it,” I replied, grinning sportingly.
“Well, that’s something I happen to be good at,” she winked. “But you haven’t answered my question…”
It was time to put the cards on the table. “Yes, I’m attracted to how you look, Aidna. Very much so even. In fact, you have the most perfect leg amputation I’ve ever seen. And no ‘I think’ here.”
“So you have seen some?” she asked, surprisingly unmoved by my confession.
“On the internet, yes.”
“And how do you find the real thing so far? Better?”
“Definitely better, even with only a short glance so far.”
Her smiling turned naughty now. “We could do something about that?”
“Well, I’m an adventurous girl. You’re a photographer. Can you do the math?”
I didn’t have a professional studio at home, but model photography isn’t very demanding equipment wise. A couple of reflectors, a few flash umbrella’s and the only thing further required is someone doing the posing. And man, did I have someone.
The walk from the coffee bar back to my appartment was about ten minutes, not much slower than I’d do it on my own. Aidna always used crutches, I came to know, and she was as good with them as you would expect someone to be who had been one-legged practically all her life. And while I was all eyes for the enticing grace of her sole leg walking, we talked about Lapland and her Sami looks. The country of her mother’s roots, how her strong genes had given Aidna so much of an appearance I found exotically beautiful and how it had led to this encounter of ours becoming exciting. Along the way, I also asked if she had ever posed before. She had, with her sister. She casually added she’d also done nude, and that she’d found that exciting to do. With a subtly inquisitive smile.
And here I was, my Nikon in hand, all set in every imaginable way and my model giving me a glamorous look, seated on a barstool. I started shooting, talking and joking a little, and only taking her face at first to help her get rid of any initial camera shyness. She didn’t have much of that, though, and very soon I started seeing the natural expressions I was looking for.
They remained when I took more distance. She knew it meant I was now shooting full body, but she obliged relaxedly with lots of poses that came spontaneously. She sat straight, she leaned back, she got off the barstool without me asking and played my game. She had a leg amputation, she knew I wanted her to show it and she did, with provocative flair.
“Having male trouble already?” she inquired cheekily while plopping her stump on the barstool seat.
“Yeah, you somehow seem to cause that,” I admitted, grinning from behind my camera.
“Tight jeans you got on then, or should I be worried?” she responded with a defiant chuckle.
“No reason to worry,” I chuckled back, loving her forwardness and loving the way this was progressing. My dilemma from not so long ago had simply evaporated into an exciting freedom to outspeak without inhibition. This lady knew what to expect and she was enjoying it.
“Mmm, I’d love to be the judge of that,” she grinned.
“And should I have a firm opinion of my own on this too?” I asked back, like her subtly referring to our chat at the coffee bar.
“Nah, every guy thinks he has the greatest,” she replied instantly, giving me another wink, one that wasn’t so subtle anymore. “But I’ll still be the judge…”
“You will be if I can be as well…” I replied, my heart pounding in my throat.
It didn’t take her long to decide. I watched her cross her arms to take her sweater off. Then she reached behind her back, unclasped her bra, took it off with a feigned coy smile, dropped it and started to unzip her jeans.
“I’m human too, Paul…” she beckoned me with a seductive smile.
“I don’t want to miss anything of you, sexy Aidna.”
“You won’t,” she said decidely. “I’ll wait with the stump part until I can see your cock.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. Did she really say that? She sure looked like having said it, though, observing me, her stump on the barstool seat seducing me and her arms making no attempt to hide a truly sexy pair of breasts, smaller sized, perfectly shaped and with perky nipples.
“That leaves me no choice then,” I replied.
“No, it doesn’t,” she said, sticking out the tip of her tongue.
I unbuttoned my shirt, took it off, kicked off my shoes and socks and then looked at her while proceeding with my jeans. I watched her watch me without a trace of shyness, unbuttoned, unzipped and started pulling.
“It was the tight fit, surely,” she remarked, lifting an eyebrow as she watched my jeans go down together with my briefs.
I had once before done a photo shoot being naked myself, a couple of years ago with my then-girlfriend. If this one was going to end the same way, I was about to have the experience of my life. So, it was in a trance that I stepped out of my jeans and then stood straight, a trance of eager willingness without a trace of doubt. I felt my cock responding instantly to Aidna taking off hers. She went slow, seductive and with alluring confidence. And just like I had done, her string came down with her pants in one single pull.
She wasn’t dying her hair, definitely not. What I saw appear with her string sliding down was the same pitch-black, trimmed short but not hiding she had a lush amount of it.
“I don’t shave,” she stated assertively. “I’m a woman, not some teen girl, so I want my cunny to look like a woman’s.”
“Oh, I’m with you, Aidna,” I replied instantly.
“That sounded like you really meant it,” she chuckled, apparently noticing my reply wasn’t adulation. And she was right, again.
Her standing next to the barstool with her pants halfway down was quite a provocative pose. Yet, she did seem to enjoy it. Her expressions showed no signs of discomfort, not even when I approached and took a few close-ups, of her string down just far enough to reveal her cunny and of her jeans just not down far enough to fully reveal her stump. It was deliberate, I was certain. She was very well aware of teasing me. And man, did I love it.
“Mmm, you’re already quite happy to see me,” she grinned, my full erection not going unnoticed. “And there’s even more to come…”
“And you’re positive now it was the tight fit?” I winked.
“With firm opinion, yes,” she winked back.
There was an intruiging mix of unimpeded excitement and relaxedness in this shoot, one I had never experienced before. And my so carelessly one-legged model was responsible for it. I inhaled every bit of her forwardness, expressed with a self-evidence that would make every shot of her both sizzling hot and natural perfection, I was convinced.
“Tell me what you think of your stump the moment you reveal it,” I asked, encouraging her to share her own feelings with me.
“So, you think you’re ready for it?” she teased
“Aidna, I’ve been ready since you asked me if that seat was free.”
“You give me no reason to doubt that…”
“There were lots of other seats free, by the way. Why did you choose to sit where I was sitting?”
“I enjoy having a casual chat when I go for a coffee. Plus you looked intently busy with what you were doing. I like that in people.”
“So not because I was the best looking guy, eh?” I winked.
“No, because you weren’t,” she winked back. “Meaning you playing with your fancy camera got you my attention. Isn’t that a toys-for-the-boy’s dream?”
It made me laugh out loud. This was a really mercurial atmosphere, and it definitely had something. The subject constantly changing was definitely postponing the revelation she knew I most longed for, but we were both letting that add to our excitement. And hers was maybe not as clear as my full boner, Aidna was obviously thrilled by my desirous fascination for her. At that, me taking my time and not pushing her, clearly made her comfortable. It was tough, keeping my patience with her stump so close to finally being shown in naked splendor. It was also very exciting to feel it pump up the erotic tension between us.
“You’re a dream in many respects, sexy…”
She gave me another charmed smile, then she started pulling to set her stump free. I watched in silent fascination, my heart pounding, my cock throbbing and in a way still wondering if this was really happening. It was. I was really seeing her lifting her stump, I was really seeing the jeans covering it being removed with teasing slowness, and I was really seeing the remainder of a very high leg amputation before me. In bare, mesmerising beauty.
“Come have a closer look?” she said invitingly.
I put my camera away and stepped close. Pictures would come later; I was sure she’d let me take them. Aidna moved to sit on the barstool, using it to take off her shoe and pull her jeans down along her one leg with teasing grace. She dropped them with the proper lack of care, then smiled, lifted an eyebrow and took her stump in both hands.
“She’s soft and feels nice. Very touch-sensitive too,” she whispered, fondling gently.
I found it moving to hear her say ‘she’. The loving way she was caressing, showed she really meant it too. It made my cock still pointing up fiercely feel inappropriate.
“And here’s the scar.”
I watched. It showed as a long cut straight across where her stump curved to its ending. And it was what it was, the incisively clear mark of amputation, the fleshly testimony of her leg radically taken off. Her stroking it was unvarnished too. Despite their tenderness, her fingertips did not conceal. She had a very high amputation and I got shown what it meant. It made me intensely aware of the other side to my erotic attraction. This sexy short stump made my cock throb and my mind race, it also required the surgical removal of an entire leg. Aidna’s entire leg.
“Any thoughts?” she asked, smiling but I could see she’d noticed my pondering.
“Seeing this for real is so much more intense, and not only the arousing side of it,” I answered sincerely. “Enjoying a picture is easy, carefree. There’s no person who has the stump to take into account. With you, I see a person. I see a young woman, witty, smart, expressing things that add to sexiness in a way a picture of your stump could never do. And even when you tell me you’re not missing anything, seeing you for real and having real fun with you makes me all the more aware that me enjoying your stump equals you having to miss a leg for it. That was making me think.”
“Pretty good thoughts,” she replied with clear appreciation.
“I told you I was pretty good.”
“At taking pictures, yes. Which you stopped doing and which you will regret for the rest of your life if I’d now walk out the door,” she giggled.
It made her looks turn naughty again. Mercurial worked both ways, it seemed, which was good. Being very serious while both naked would probably not have worked for very long anyway. Her stump was not the only thing excting me in sexy Aidna, far from.
“I’m relying on my male intuition. It tells me you won’t,” I winked.
“Male intuition is a contradiction in terms, Paul,” she responded challengingly, sticking out her tongue.
“Then tell me you’re going to walk out the door now,” I challenged back.
“I can’t, I’m butt naked,” she tried.
“And you’re enjoying it…”
Her expression turned to coy now, a playful coy. “Okay, suppose I am…?” she whispered. Then she grinned suggestively, reached out, took my hand and led it to her stump.
I was trembling with excitement. “Hmm, this is tantalising,” I whispered back. “And I don’t think it’s going to make you walk out…”
“It isn’t, so don’t be shy…”
With gentle tweaks, I let my fingers explore her stump, the very first stump I ever touched. It was soft like she said, and very sensuously so. The flabby flesh followed the pressure of my fingers with the exciting ease of a soft breast. I stared at them moving, fascinated and thrilled. I let them stroke along the rounding, the contour of what was left of her leg taken off. I cupped with both hands and gently clasped, feeling the shape that was the essence of my fascination. Having told her my thoughts now acted as a release. I felt free, ready and able to let the erotic power of her beautiful stump overwhelm my excitement.
“You seem to really like this,” she replied with a suggestive look at my crotch.
“And how is this for you?”
“You have good hands,” she whispered. “Not shy.”
It encouraged me. My firmer kneading in response made her gasp. She tensed her muscles now. I could feel them roll underneath the skin, contracting with an exciting lack of purpose. I was close to cumming on the spot, and it didn’t go unnoticed.
“Mmm, you like that even more, eh?”
“Pff, very awfully very sexy,” I admitted instantly.
It made her do it again, faster and more strongly now. And she was far from hiding what my firm kneading was doing to her, she did it giggling with joy. I welcomed it with relief, as it took off some pressure. But there was more to come. A lot more.
“Feels awfully good too,” she said with panting voice. “Can you make shots of it?”
“I’d have to fetch a tripod, unless you’re okay with one kneading hand?”
“No, tripod,” she replied at commanding tone.
I had to fetch it from another room. Sexy Aidna had come off the barstool when I returned, eying me while she swung her stump in a pretty naughty way. I swiftly placed the tripod slant in front of her, mounted the camera, positioned the field and switched it to video recording.
“Everything you say, can and will be used against you now,” I said, grinning as I stepped close again.
“Hmm, maybe best to plead guilty then?” she whispered.
“And what would the incredibly sexy Aidna be guilty of then?” I replied, looking straight into her eyes as I took her stump in my hands again.
“Guilty of going to his place with a guy I just met, and liking that,” she said, lightly scratching her fingernails over my chest.
“Serious offense. Anything else?”
“Guilty of enjoying his perversion,” she replied, seductively pushing her stump into my kneading hand.
“Oh dear, perversion is very serious. I do hope there’s not gonna be more?”
“There is,” she replied huskily.
“Best to tell it then…”
“And what is it…?”
“Guilty of wanting that guy to fuck my brains out in front of the camera,” she then said, looking straight into my eyes. She meant it.
It was not the first time I couldn’t believe my ears. And once again, every bit of what she said was real. She grabbed me in her arms, pushed her naked body hard against mine and practically forced me into a hungry French kiss. She moaned deep when I grabbed her buttocks, grabbing mine in response and pushing herself even harder against me. There was panting and groaning all over. In a mere few seconds our hands had gone wild. And I felt an unbelievable gush of excitement when she pushied her stump full against my throbbing cock and started rubbing without mercy.
“Yes,” she hissed, ignoring my begging groan. “Do it!”
Was this tension built up carefully that now unleashed? Or was it knowing my camera was recording this? I never asked, but something had awoken her, and it was coming out with gushing impetus. She pushed me back a little, fisted my hard on and started jerking it while rubbing my cockhead over the scar of her stump, smearing my precum. She knew what she was doing. Knew what the result of this would be. And the only thing she did was frantically bringing that closer.
I didn’t take long. This was just too hot to even consider holding back, and I wasn’t given the chance to either. She jerked without mercy and let the twitching of her stump finish me off. Two guttural groans resounded, first mine, then hers. I felt her tight clinch, as if she was obstructing my cumming to increase the vigor of my explosion. Not that there was any need for that. My spurting launched like a nitro-fuelled dragster. Near unable to breathe from sheer excitement, I watched my load splatter and hit her twichting stump point blank. And during every second of my cumming, I saw her rub out every splash of my hefty tribute to her beautifully missing leg.
I took no time to recover, well hardly any, simply because I didn’t need it. This amputee sex bomb was thrilling the heck out of me. But now it was my time to take charge.
I lifted her up and sat her on the barstool, and she let me very willingly, shifting forward a little to enable me the access she was hungering for. It was a delicate balance, her sole leg lifting, stretching teasingly first and then wrapping around my waist. In terms of demonstrating eagerness it was unsurpassed, though. It spread her wide open. It offered me her gaping, wet slit without a trace of shame. And simultaneously, it let her provocatively pushed out stump toy with my fascination for it.
It had all the effects she was wishing for. In a sheer trance of horny ecstasy, I rammed my resurrected hardness into her wanton cunt. No foreplay, no tenderness, just unleashed, primary lust. It was what she wanted, it was what I wanted, and we let it loose. I felt her leg pull me closer. She felt me grab her stump and kneading it hard. I felt her fingernails in the skin of my back. She felt the gasping of my horniness in her face. I felt her slippery clasping wetness trying to get a grip on my deep thrusting cock, in vain. And I fucked her brains out, as well as my own.
Some things don’t need to take long to leave a deep impression. This was one of them. This was a great fast fuck as much as it was a total mind blow, and from her peeking sideways now and then I was pretty sure that it was the camera adding to her sexual exuberance. It was for me too, although outshone by the sizzlingly provocative way Aidna was playing my stump fascination. She was hissing “Yeah, fuck your stump girl”, she was wildly pushing her stump into my passionately grabbing hand and she made her cunt clasp tight in response to every bit of lust driven kneading, uninhibitedly seeking my arousal and pushing hers with mine. She wanted to be fucked as an amputee and drank in my passion to oblige. There was no holding back, no putting the brakes on. We pushed and pushed in one lust forgiven trance, straight to the final eruption. She came first, in a long, whining moan, her juices gushing out with pulsating passion. I duly followed, with an a****l-like groan, grimacing and feeling my balls hurt for lack of enough cum to support my hefty release.
And then I held her in my arms, long and tenderly, allowing us time to return to back to earth.
“And what kind of job has made you so observant, by the way?”
“Mmm, you have good memory too,” she smiled. “And it’s not a job, not yet anyway.”
“Tell me then.”
“I’m a psychology student at the university here,” she replied with a frolic grin. “And I’m writing my thesis on erotic attraction to amputees.”
“Oh great. So I’ve been part of a research project then?” I replied, laughing.
“Yes, you actually have,” she winked. “But no worries, you’ll remain anonymous. And by the way: you’re also a pretty nice guy.”
“That’s a relief, Aidna,” I grinned sportingly.
“It should be, Paul,” she whispered, teasing me with a sensuous kiss. “I’ll be back, you know, to see my pictures and that movie. I won’t allow you to email them.”
“As if I ever would,” I whispered back, subtly winking and drawing her body closer to mine.
“So we have a date?”
“We have. And no guarantees that you will not be seduced again…”
“As if I would refuse…”
“You were wonderful, sexy Aidna,” I whispered, kissing her again.
“So were you, mister nice devotee,” she whispered back, winking.
Our parting was reluctant. I felt my heart weep when we finally did and I watched her walk away. It was beautiful, how versedly she was using her crutches, how graciously her sole leg was moving with every step. She looked back one last time, smiling archly. She knew I would be watching her and was letting me know she enjoyed it. Then she disappeared around the corner.
I closed the door, walked back to the room, sat down behind my computer and slapped myself. Did this really happen? My inner voice screamed out it did.
Then I connected my Nikon to my computer and started transferring all pictures and the movie. It took a while, not surprisingly, allowing me to ponder my incredible luck. I skipped everything I’d shot this morning, that was for later.
The moment her first picture appeared on screen, I felt my cock come to life again.
[To be continued]