“Mmm, for me?” she smiled.
“It wouldn’t fit anyone else I know,” he winked.
“Ah, that kind of present,” she chuckled. “How unexpected!”
They grinned at each other as she led the way into the living. With her lover visiting, wearing the prothesis wouldn’t come to mind, so she was on crutches. And there was hardly a more coquettish outfit for her high amputation than the altered legging she was wearing.
“You look breathtaking again, babe.”
“I should, considering the time it took me!”
There was a good laugh, the laugh of old friends they’d been since age sixteen, when she’d lost her left leg to bone cancer. And in a few different ways, they always been lovers since two years later.
Losing her leg had made the prettiest girl in class see the number of guys wanting to date her drop. It had also gained her a new friend, him. Initially, she was rather surprised to see him visit her so often. They’d never been very close, belonged to different circles of friends. Nonetheless, she liked his attention then, mainly because he wasn’t bad looking at all; very important at that age, even more so for a pretty girl who had just lost a leg.
He turned out to be very nice as well though, and he was a great support at times when many a friend was failing the test of being a real one. His support was also unusually understanding, suspiciously so even. Until she found out the reason. After some insisting, he confessed to be very attracted to her because she had become one-legged.
And twenty years on that was still very much the case.
“Gosh, this is stunning!” she beamed.
It was a pair of calfskin pants, in a stylish dark blue the white blonde she was would definitely look great in. And it was tailor made.
“Mrs Nguyen?” she inquired.
He nodded, which made her smile. This Vietnamese lady was her personal seamstress, the best she knew and the one who best knew her requirements.
“Then I won’t need to check if it fits. Unless you’d like to see it on…?” she asked, winking teasingly.
“I heard you on the time it took you to look good, but otherwise…” he grinned, reveling her sexy outfit.
Next to hot leggings, she was wearing a very sexy blouse, its fabric thin enough to let the lace body underneath shine through. She was 37 now, and although she claimed it took her longer and longer to look good, her cat-like beauty was still very much shining naturally. And also very natural was the way she now took off her high heel and leggings.
They were both married to partners who had no affinity with this. For her husband, she was simply the best partner he ever had, who happened to have only one leg. He really accepted it, but he married the woman and not the amputee, for which she loved him dearly.
Similarly, his wife was also a choice for the best partner he’d ever run into. And fifteen years on their marriage was still very much alive.
At the same time, the both of them had never wanted to discontinue this. After school, their lives in different cities and circles had taken their own course, with their relationship eventually breaking up because they were both heading in different directions then. They had never stopped seeing each other though. Somehow, the mutual attraction established during the first years of her being an amputee had remained, with his fascination obviously never fading but hers as well continuing to be a pleasure she didn’t want to deny herself. It was not what life was about, but it sure felt good to feel so explicitly admired and desired.
And it had been a struggle at both sides, eventually they had both succeeded in giving this the place they wished it to have alongside their happy relationships.
“Hmm, have I missed seeing this,” he said as her leggings came off.
“And I missed you loving it,” she smiled charmedly, lifting her stump and twitching it for him.
Her husband really didn’t mind, was always helpful and understanding and all. Yet he took it for granted. This lover of hers found her stump mesmerisingly beautiful. And again, it wasn’t what life was about, but it sure felt great to so visibly be found drop dead sexy for her left leg taken off high upper thigh. She always used to wear a prosthesis and she never did when with him. For this reason.
“Mmm, this feels like a second skin, heavenly!” she exclaimed as she slid into the calfskin.
“It looks like a second skin too, beau-ti-ful.”
She smiled broadly, allowing him a good look at his present. And at how she loved to wear it. Not surprisingly, mrs Nguyen had done a perfect job in making them fit around her stump. There wasn’t a single crease in how it clad the rounded shape beneath her left hip. Normally using a prosthesis, she wasn’t gonna wear these very often. But every time she would, she’d enjoy the stylish sexy way it didn’t hide her looks. The prosthesis was a convenience thing, not an attempt to hide, which she never did. She had always refused the rubber attempts at mimicking the missing. And especially since her first C-leg, she’d parade the hi-tech coolness of her artificial limb.
Over twenty years of having one leg had also made her become attached to it. Somehow, the prosthesis never felt like it should be there, and taking it off could be a feeling of genuine relief, of her body being back to its familiar self again. And in this gorgeous pair of leather pants, she felt very much herself, under the eyes of the one finding her very special for it.
“I’m thinking,” he added.
“If I’ve ever seen your stump more sexy than this. You look stunning.”
“And I haven’t even put my shoe back on…”
Her wearing a single high heel could make him drool, she knew. And she never minded tickling his weakness for it. Sliding back into a black stiletto she’d normally never wear, she did a catwalk for him, graciously swaying between her crutches and freely enjoying what it was doing to him. His attraction was fully accepted between them, so she knew this would make him hard. As he knew she wasn’t minding it, so to say. Actually, these meetings were a total plunge into the joys of his liking, with him as much the uninhibited admirer as her the willingly gallanting amputee. They had happy relationships in every respect but one, and this was their fulfilling the sole missing part. It wasn’t sex only; after almost twenty years it couldn’t possibly be. But it came pretty close, with neither of them minding.
“Hmm, totally fuckable,” he grinned.
“You’d have to take those pants off for that again…” she winked, still walking back and forth the room.
“And that sexy blouse and body.”
“And what’s keeping you…?”
He stood up, directed her to the bedroom with a playful pat on her butt. Once there, she sat down on the bed. Had him first take off her shoe, then the present he gave her. She got up again for the last part, humming seductively right in front of him as he unbuttoned her blouse, dropped it on the floor with the proper lack of care and then slid the body’s shoulder straps off her shoulders. Her firm, small breasts didn’t need a bra, so she smiled as easy access let his cupping hands welcome them tenderly, letting her soft pink nipples point at the one responsible for their almost painful cringing. She wiggled a little to help him slide the body further down, grinned invitingly the moment he revealed the thin line of blonde on her venus, and even more invitingly when the tip of his fingers tickled it. She went to sit again and lifted her butt to let him slide the body down her leg, stretching it seductively to accentuate the absence of a second, and pushing out her stump, letting her amputation be the sexual weapon to expose her wettened desire for him.
She laid down on her back, resting on elbows and spread wide open. His undressing was hasty, hungering, just the way she liked it. As his erection was full hard. She twitched her stump, knowing she was going to see him respond. There was no reticence in her being his leg amputee mistress, as there was no reserve in his arousal.
They were going to take their time, as they always did. So it would take a few before she’d welcome his stallion urge inside her. It felt wonderful it was there though, so very much so it caused a sting down her lower belly.
His hands sliding up from her foot felt excitingly good. His tongue did too, while it licked its way up her one leg, gradually more to the inner and unstoppably heading for what she knew was going to make her jolt with pleasure. The wonderful tense of anticipation. The scents of excitement starting to fill the bedroom. Her hands clenching as she closed her eyes. Nearly there. One hand moving to her stump now, stroking the scar like no one else did. He desired her to be amputated, preferred her now spasming stump to a second leg. And his sensuously touching fingers were telling her he did, with unmatched intensity.
She succumbed to the sensation, floating off into the trance-like pleasure. Again, this was not what life was about. But with eyes closed tight, the mental image of his hugely hard cock, the tabooless groping of his hand on her stump, and his tongue now reaching its destination felt like heaven.
There was a loud “Argh!” as the jolt kicked in.