Story – Kinky providence

“If you’d ever have thoughts this is making you less hot… it isn’t… not at all…”

Every time she saw Sandy again, these words came back to mind. And every time Karen did, every look into her eyes confirmed she still meant every word. Sandy had always been a weird chick, a weird chick who was into weird stuff. So it hadn’t even been a shock to hear her say it. Not really, although she had frowned alright. Big time too. But that was disbelief rather than shock, a curious disbelief that had meanwhile turned into a pleasantly solid feeling sure. And into a pretty nice reason to love seeing Sandy again. One of many, by the way.

The bone tumor in her left leg had meant two years of gnawing uncertainty, long enough for a realistic young girl to not let the final verdict devastate her anymore. In a strange way, it had even been a relief to hear her leg needed to be taken off. Repeated chemos only resulting in temporary containment, the dread of metastasis becoming ever more real, it had made the leg hiding the cancerous monster an enemy body part. For a fifteen year old it was a remarkably firm belief, but if her leg was threatening the life she loved so much, she was going to do without it. And since a little over six years now, she was.

Done high upper thigh, the amputation had been a hell of a change for the sports loving girl she was. Karen had never regretted it though. Being rid of the emotionally crippling demons that had made her teenage girl years into a nightmare simply outweighed the discomforts of a prosthesis. Her current life felt like one big catching up, with an inner drive simply making her forget she was doing the catching up with only one leg. Okay, there was being stared at, being treated with paternalising pity too. And being one-legged made finding mr. right a bit more of a challenge. But she was alive and loving it.
And then there was Sandy.

“Hell, it’s so fucking good to see you again, bitch,” Karen beamed.
“Still the same good?”
“Totally!”
“Same here, hottie,” Sandy chuckled rather meaningfully.

It was followed by a passionate kiss, a lot more passionate than you’d expect close friends reunited to be kissing. But then they weren’t; they were more. In a peculiar way maybe, but they definitely were.
Sandy had been the one standing next to Karen like only a best girlfriend could. Her parents were important then too, well-meant parental care and support easily ran into classic pubertal lack of receptivity at that age, with weird Sandy representing most everything an obstinate teen was looking up to.

In retrospect, their very first kiss had been one of protest. A purple punk-haired chick sharing the lameness of boys with a one-legged chick feeling the same, suddenly finding themselves snogging, and then two triumphant giggles. The second was both more daring and much more intimate though. And it stood for more than sealing a bond between girls who weren’t getting a lot of dates.

“Off then,” Karen grinned, pointing at the maillot under Sandy’s punky ornamented leather skirt.
“Will you or shall I?”

There was gigglish laughter when Sandy was resolutely sprawled, saw her black boots land on the floor and then felt the maillot being yanked from under her butt, including her panties. She shivered when Karen sniffed them, as she did when she lifted her skirt and spread wide. Sandy was wet, and she very much wanted Karen to see it.

After secondary school, they’d gone seperate ways. Karen to study and succeed, Sandy to do the same and decide it wasn’t her thing. It had landed her in a heavy punk scene for a while, untill she found out that wasn’t her thing either, much to Karen’s relief. Its dark, no-future ethos was the total opposite of what life was to herself, she’d also had genuine fears of Sandy becoming dangerously absorbed by it. Luckily, she’d come to the same conclusion herself. She’d stepped out and went to travel the world, leaving Karen to not see her for a long time and sigh with relief nonetheless.

The moulding years of early adolescence had left a lasting imprint though. Of sex with each other not being frightening, and that was a rather diplomatic way of putting it. Sprung from a playfully adventurous closeness, their initially secretive explorations had soon opened a world of unexpected passion. And thrill. Neither of them had erotic feelings for other girls, but this was somehow different. It had been since the early days, it had never changed, it revived with roaring intensity every time they’d meet again, and they enjoyed it without a trace of inhibition.

“Mmm, I’ve so missed this, girl,” Karen whispered, moving down between Sandy’s wide spread thighs.
“Argh… as I missed your heavenly tongue…pfff…” Sandy groaned.
“These I missed too,” Karen continued, sneaking under a ragged t-shirt with nothing underneath.

The softness of Sandy’s boobs gave her goosebumps. Her own sweater being tugged made her beam. She withdrew for a moment, took it off with excited hurry and grinned while pushing out her tits as she unclasped her bra. Their breathing became heavier when Sandy got up to do the rest. One All Stars sneaker was taken off her foot, the other wasn’t. Sandy theatrically left it on the C-leg she was making come off now, as usual with a fascinated grin. There was no doubt she understood the comfort of a prosthetic leg, there also was no doubt Sandy much preferred to see her not wear it. And sitting cross-legged like she was, there also was no doubt just how much. Karen’s stump exposing naked made Sandy visibly clench.

“You kinky bitch!”
“It’s so fucking hot, can’t help it!” Sandy grinned, without a trace of shame because she really meant what she said. And Karen knew she did.
“Tell me what you find hottest then,” she grinned frolicly.
“Stand for a moment. Just stand and let me find you stunning.”

Karen did, with great pleasure. Wiggling her hips, she stood with flair, lifting her stump to make it stick out. Sandy responded by rubbing full into her exposed cunt, moaning deep while staring with overt fascination. And a lot louder when Karen teasingly made the muscles contract and relax again, treating Sandy to a stump jiggle that left her breathless.

“You like that, eh? You naughty pervy girl…”
“Tell me you like it too,” Sandy pouted, winking.
“Would that make your naughty dripping slit even wetter, kinky little slut?” Karen challenged, without mercy, loving it, and very ostentatiously letting her stump swing and dangle.
“What if it would, teasing stump chick?” Sandy replied, now very openly rubbing her clit.

The rest went fast. Their urge to be naked and feel each other’s bodies was as overwhelming as it was rushed. Unleashing their hunger to touch was never a problem, and neither did it possess any reserve. Kissing passionately, they let their hands grope as in wanting them to be groping. There was soft skin to welcome again, as there were the scents of their bodies to inhale with a shiver of excited familiarity. But so much more than that, there was a predatory drive to fumble the essence of their lusting for each other.

If anyone would ever think sex between two women to be sweet and tender, they were making a convincing case of disproving that. They made shamelessly probing fingers enter equally shameless, soaking wetness. They plucked, sucked and bit the stinging tightness of cringing nipples with groans inviting the same treatment. With a torturous precision that indubitably required having one yourself, they made their clits into impelling pearls of orgasmic power surges. The only difference between them was Karen feeling her stump be worshipped with flabbergasting intensity, and Sandy seeing her merge that sensation into a violent call for release.

“Grrr. Fuck you, San, you horny bitch slut! Argh, you’re making me cum on my stump!”
“Damn sure I am, hottie,” she whispered hoarsely.

Karen looked at her with flaming eyes. Sandy was the only one she’d allow this, and the only one who could do it. With guys, there were always small inhibitions that blocked her. Silly feelings, feelings she hated, but she was yet to get rid of them. Not with this intriguingly weird chick though. Her words came to mind again: If you’d ever have thoughts this is making you less hot… it isn’t… not at all… 

They were spoken after Sandy had first seen her stump naked. In the hospital, she’d been the emotional support a best friend ought to be. She’d held Karen’s hand to help her accept. They knew it was her only hope to survive and they talked about that hope, about plans for the future never going to be stopped by the wry fleshly fact of a leg cut off.
Sandy had seen a bandaged stump, but not how it was swollen with exudate, bruised by the hardly meek butchery that amputating was a mitigatory term for, and not the stitches that so abhorringly marked a forever changed body. Karen hadn’t shown anyone, not until the stitches and the drain were out, and the swelling of surgery had become less.
There were still some bruises when she’d first shown Sandy, but otherwise Karen had found her stump presentable enough to be shown. There was an insecure smile when the bandage came off. A trembling lower lip when the naked truth of surgical removal became fully exposed. And then Sandy had taken a deep breath to say the words that were since then etched in Karen’s memory.

They were also words Sandy had never once renounced. And even when she’d often jokingly call it kinky providence later, she’d never hidden the real reason either.
It was obviously too touchy to bring up then, but seeing Karen’s stump the moment the bandage came off had given her an incredible wave of excitement. It had been very literally incredible then and very much confusing as well. Once Sandy was on her own again though, and forced herself to think about it leaving her support to Karen out, the picture had started to form very quickly. This was about the very same thing she felt whenever seeing Luther, the son of friends of her parents’ who was born missing half his right arm. This was also about the excitement she’d once felt when masturbating, and finding her fantasy suddenly produce lively images of boys having only one leg or arm. They were not explicitly sexual, not the way a still virgin girl imagined sexual ecstasy with a boy to be. But they’d been well powerful enough to let that first time being with a one-legged guy trigger an unusually hefty orgasm.

Not very surprisingly, Karen had asked her what exactly she’d meant with those words in hospital. She’d dosed her answer deliberately, still a bit uncertain how to interpret her own feelings and judging Karen would likely take the full story better once she’d be over the biggest emotional hurdles. Despite having called it a relief to see her cancer leg be taken off, the actual amputation had obviously left emotions of loss, mutilation and insecurity with a changed physique.
But Karen had fought back with renewed pleasure in life, and once it was clear the amputation had actually stopped the cancer for good, Sandy had confessed it all. And maybe it was her weirdness adding to her credit, after a couple of very serious frowns Karen had taken it with curious surprise. And it had never been a taboo since.

“Pfff, do it then, you kinky dyke… I dare you,” Karen hissed defiantly.

They both knew what it meant. There’d be lots of other sex afterwards, but this made the hottest kick-off for both. By far.
Karen let herself be pushed on her back, then pulled up her stump to form the upright chunk of leg Sandy was very eagerly sliding her inner thighs upon. And there were two deep groans resounding when her wetness started to lubricate the passionately pushing flesh.

“Yeah babe, make my cunt sop with your hot stump,” Sandy growled.

Once the confessions had been made, no taboo was really no taboo. The woman to woman certainty of everything having been said, combined with a shared desire to curiously go from there, meant no shame, no sense of guilt, only the unreserved utilization of a high amputation’s sexual potential.
Karen’s beamingly horny grin was about hre ribbed scar now rubbing full against Sandy’s clit. Also about the deep, guttural groan it was making her exclaim, frantically squirming, her mouth hanging open, her stare glazed and sopping not being an exaggerated description of what Karen felt trickle down the electrified skin of her amputated leg. And on top of that, Sandy was making her tits jiggle right in front of her eyes, shamelessly encouraging her to blend the image of her dangling boobs into Karen’s own arousal.
Her stump was highly sensitive. The excitement of this lustful play added a lot too. It was not enough to trigger orgasm by itself, but she came gloriously close. There was a cathartic release in letting her stump be so prominently sexual, in seeing it be a source of mesmerised pleasure.
Karen held back a little, not rubbing her clit too frantically to let every bit of this special excitement tickle her awareness of her stump being found hot, well hot enough to see Sandy collapse in a phenomenal climax. Squealing with pleasure, she let Sandy’s oozing tribute run down her stump.

She felt it twitch with joy. All by itself.

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