Story – Polish pleasures (5) – Give and take

“What are they like, can you describe?”
“Is hard when you don’t know. Phantom pains is very weird sensation.”
“Try anyway?”

She smiled wryly as she nodded. It’d been a while since she last had them, but it was hard to forget how unpleasant they were. They were now too, but him pinching her stump was relieving. Pain reflexes worked to break the short-circuit inside her brain, she knew from own experience, which had long been the only thing available. After the amputation, when she used to have them a lot more, doctors had told her there was nothing they could do about phantom pains. They commonly came with an amputation, she was told, and she’d just have to live with them.

“Is sensation of leg still there,” she gave it a try. “Very strong, realistic, so strong your body believe it is true, but at same time you know and see it is not. That makes like something is not right in my head. Is very unpleasant.”
“Painful too?”
“Not really pain, no. More like cramps, but is very eh… annoying?”
“Good word, yes,” he complimented her English.
“Good word for bad thing,” she tried to smile.
“I wish I could help more. Is there any way I can?”

She’d meanwhile read most everything about it you were able to understand without professional medical knowledge, but a couple of therapies that seemed to work with some excepted, the message was still sadly the same. The only thing that somehow helped was understanding how it seemed to work. The human brain possessed and used a sort of mental mapping of the body in making parts like limbs function. Physical removal of a limb didn’t always mean the mental mapping adapted along with it however, not always and not always consistently. Most of the time it worked; she knew that from her own experience. It didn’t require active thinking to remind her there was no left leg anymore; her subconscious reflexes simply knew and took it into account, which was extremely practical.
Despite that, there’d always remained some sort of awareness of the leg taken off. It would vary in sense of concreteness but it was always there: a vaguely delineated impression of her leg still continuing beyond where it was removed, and strangely always in the same position, bent at the knee in a slight angle. She’d always interpreted it as the last memory of her leg now gone, since it was how she imagined her leg to have been positioned before the amputation, hoisted in a pulley in preparation of being taken off. It was a strange sensation, vaguely saddening too, but she’d got used to it. On and again though, there’d be moments her brain was under the impression her amputated leg was really still there. That’s what she called a short-circuit. And it wasn’t particularly pleasant.

“No. But you so concerned is sweet,” she replied gratefully. “And your hand remind me my leg not there helps little bit.”
“I’m glad it does.”
“And you help too,” she added.
“I do?”
“Annoying is more bad when with shame. With you I have never shame.”
“Make use of it, please,” he smiled.
“I make!” she replied, now with a better smile.

He could see she did, and that she was fully at ease with her skirt pulled up to allow him better access. His attraction was not the only thing that was meanwhile totally accepted. Along with it, she’d learned to feel as free in his company as if she were on her own, and it could bring a smile to his face how well she had. This was a bad moment, but normally it was unmistakeable how her body language had changed from uncomplaining resign to relaxed self-confidence. She’d unlikely ever share his view of finding her missing leg sexy, there wasn’t a doubt she accepted he very much did, and it had made every insecurity disappear when with him. The current wryness in her expression was from the phantom pains bothering her, not from feeling uneasy with her stump showing. She was relaxed with him seeing it, as she relaxedly let him touch and pinch what still felt as an uncomfortably present phantom.

“The most bad is you cannot do anything,” she continued, watching his attempts at relief. “If you have cramp in real foot, you can try and make it go away. If foot is not there, you can do nothing, but feeling is exactly the same. It can make me mad with frustration.”
He still found it hard to get a real picture of this, but he had no doubt it was annoying. “Is that where the cramps are now?”
“Yes, in foot and in eh… calf?”
“If you mean here?” he replied, touching the calf of her good leg.
“Yes, there. Below knee.”
“And where are your foot and calf here? Can you say?” he asked.

She’d told him once, that specific spots on her stump corresponded with specific parts of the leg no longer there. His attraction found it fascinating, but this was not the time for that. He concentrated on trying to be of help to her, although he felt pleasantly surprised how easily he could put his attraction aside now. In many respects, her being an amputee had become unladen, just as normal a part of her as anything else. Not that his attraction had disappeared, far from, but it was fully accepted, and that’d taken the compulsiveness out of it.

“Foot is here,” she pointed. “Calf is more difficult. You have to try find it.”

She turned a little to lay on her right side, then closed her eyes to concentrate. This was a good example of what she called feeling quiet with him. This was an atmosphere in which there was nothing strange about his question, nor about her answer, or the way he used it. This felt like a kind man doing his best to help her, without any inner resistance against him rather searchingly touching her stump. Despite the nagging cramps it felt like a self-conquest, how totally at ease she was to have this man touch what was still an emotionally sensitive spot. Others touching there always made her flinch in reflex, as if something inside her considered it forbidden. Now the flinches were absent, the best possible sign of her really being at ease with him.

“That’s my knee,” she prompted. “A little lower…”
He did, slowly and observing her reactions. “Here?”
“Close, but still lower, I think…”
“Yesss,” she replied with a sigh of relief. “Now push finger there.”
He did, carefully.
“Don’t be scared, please.”

She’d often told him, and yet he still was a little. For him, her stump still had something vulnerable, despite her many reassurances. The amputation was done properly, leaving a well-shaped stump that wasn’t painful anywhere, not even to firmer touching. Convincing him of that was another thing though, even when he was making progress.
Today he was much more reluctant again, probably because the phantom pains were making him more afraid to hurt her. While the opposite was required, she knew. If there was anything helping at all, it’d have to be powerful signals sent to her brain, the place where this weird short-circuiting was taking place.

“Push with your fingernail.”
“You sure?”

He did, too reluctant first but another “Harder!” pushed him enough to feel some effect. The phantom always felt numb, like a foot that’s asleep. The sting from the fingernail driving into the soft flesh wasn’t pleasant, but it did what it was supposed to do: sent a pain signal to her brain that would act as a reset if it worked. It didn’t always, but she knew it was the only thing that could.
She asked him to do the same where her foot was, commanded rather than asked. He didn’t mind. And once the signals had been sent up, she asked him to stimulate her scar. That was step two of the attempt at reset: convince her brain that her leg was really gone by touching the very spot where it was taken off. He went careful here too, and this time she didn’t encourage him further. Her scar was by far the most sensitive spot, both physically and emotionally. Making him touch it so intently brought a gush of emotions, but she knew that was going to happen and breathed them out in hefty sighs, sighs alternated by telling him not to stop, which she knew he would have otherwise. He was a gentle man, who’d probably never realised his offer to help involved a firmness of treatment he wasn’t quite used to.

“Ohhh, finally!” she exclaimed.
“Not gone, but yes, better.”
“I’m glad it helped. I wasn’t feeling very comf…”
“… Slap a little now,” she interrupted him.

He frowned a little but obliged, meanwhile sensing when to be reluctant and when not. His slapping echoed through the room, but it helped. And when she started to flex her stump vividly, he didn’t even need further instructions. With fast kneading fingers he helped her relax the muscles, until her smile of relief singalled she was a lot better now.

“That was so sweet. Thank you,” she whispered, moving over to kiss him tenderly.
“My pleasure, sexy lady.”
“Was it really? Pleasure?” she chuckled.
“Well, maybe not always,” he admitted.
“I understand is not easy for such a sweet man,” she replied, kissing again.
“Glad you do. And thanks.”
“And I like you for sweet man you are. Phantom pains is exception!”
“So no invitation to go kinky?” he said, pretending to look disappointed.
“I have permanent leg bondage. That is kinky enough for me,” she winked.
“Hmm, interesting. I’ve never looked at it that way,” he winked back.

The both laughed out loud, then he pulled her close for a real kiss. She gave him one with passion, and her hands sneaking under his shirt were the sign her passion wanted more. There was no hurry though. There never was when they were together, much to her joy. Suddenly erupting mutual urges for a quickie excepted, he always took the time. In his own gentlemanly way, he was a master at making her feel the radiant center of his unidivided attention. He was also great at warming her up with a subtle determination she adored. His looking at her never left unclear where he was planning to end, but he made every journey towards it a festival of sensuality. She’d never had a man who would take ten minutes to turn innocent strokes over her bra into an inner cry to have him rip it off. He could take just as long between a first tease of her panties and the moment he exposed her naked flesh, and by that time she was wetly eager to show him every detail. She actually found it a real art, the way he invariably succeeded in letting her scream out inside that she wanted him, and wanted him now. Her appetite for sex had always been healthy. With him, it’d grown into an erotic ferocity she never thought she had in her. And it was still getting heavier.
She smiled into his eyes, enjoying his gentleman style I’m-definitely-going-to-fuck-you stare.

“This was also strange sensation in other respect, new respect,” she said, grinning a little to tell him she saw that stare.
He looked at her, curious. “How do you mean?”
“Before I meet you, I felt okay with have to miss my leg,” she explained. “Not anymore sad, I mean. Leg is amputated and I make peace with that.”
He nodded, listening carefully now.
“Then I meet you, man who tells me I am sexy with one leg, more sexy than normal woman. I had boyfriend once who found also, but he was a little bit silly, so I never took serious. You are not silly…”
“I like to think I’m not, no,” he smiled. “But go on.”
“You are serious man, kind man, gentleman too, With naughty streak, but gentleman.”
He just grinned.
“So I felt I had to take serious you find my leg amputation sexy. And I have done.”
“You did, and it made you more confident and even more sexy.”
“More sexy I don’t know, but more confidence you are right,” she continued, smiling. “Because I learned I have to believe you. I don’t find sexy myself, but is no doubt you do very much. I have seen so many good proof,” she smiled more, now a little naughty.
“Happy to be convincing,” he winked.
“I know you are happy to show me,” she winked back. “And I also now really like. You make me feel attractive woman, woman you desire, and that is very nice feeling.”
“Thank you,” he smiled broadly. “And it’s my pleasure.”
“And is very nice feeling, is also very quiet feeling. Pleasant quiet.”
“How do you mean?”
“Is woman’s thing,” she smiled. “Worry about how I look makes restless inside. You made me no longer restless. With you I feel quiet, satisfied how I look.”
“You should be, but that wouldn’t have helped, I guess.”
“No, is between ears. You cannot change that by say I should,” she chuckled.
“But it did change…”
“Yes, you changed it. By always make me feel you find no problem I have amputation. And I don’t mean as saying you find sexy. I mean small things.”
“Okay,” he smiled. “Such as?”
“For example: people always look at me. When they do and I am with you, I see man who is not embarrassed to be with me.”
“I’ve always dreamed of a woman like you, so being embarrassed is about the last thing that’d come to my mind.”
“That is you. Not all men are the same. I have had men who say is no problem, and then you go out with them, and I can see and feel they are ashamed people see him with me.”
“That must be awful…”
“Good signal to dump the man,” she replied.
“Makes you wonder why they dated you in the first place.”
“Maybe they thought they would not find problem and they were wrong. I don’t know, but it can make you cynical.”
“I can well imagine it does.”
“That is why I noticed so fast you were different, when you first came to stay with me,” she smiled. “I know it was not date, but your look at me was very different.”
“That was because I couldn’t believe my luck,” he chuckled.
“I could see. And you ever wondered why I came into room without prothesis later?” she asked, looking mischievous.
“Hmm, so you were testing me right away, eh?” he grinned.
“Not testing for what I now know. But I saw you look special and I found you good looking man, so I decided I wanted you to see me how I look. And when I saw you look even more special, I knew you like me how I look.”
“Hmm, cunning lady,” he replied, winking. “But you didn’t really dress up then, I remember?”
“Of course not. That would be too obvious,” she grinned.
There was a penny dropping now. “Except for a sweater that showed your boobs pretty spectacularly…”
“Yes, that was other thing I saw you look at, so I put on bra that showed my boobies nicely. And it worked,” she replied, playfully lifting an eyebrow.
“It sure did!” he laughed sportingly. “Quite a seductress!”
“I am happy I tried!” she replied, beaming and moving over to kiss him. “And you know what?”
“Tell me, very sexy lady,” he whispered, kissing back sensuously.
“I think the phantom pains are all gone.”
“That’s wonderful to hear. But does it mean I have to stop being sweet to your stump?”
She shook her head, slowly. “No, please be more sweet.”
“And not only to your sexy stump…?”
“To my whole sexy me, yes.
“There’s nothing I’d rather be doing…”
“I know,” she whispered. “And um…?”
“I said something earlier that I feel sorry for,” she pouted.
“You did?”
She kept her most innocent face and nodded. “I said something about kinky enough…”
“Followed by that interesting observation,” he grinned.
“Yes, that.”
“What are you sorry for then?”
“Well, a little kinky I find nice. If you are… into that?”
“Good English again!”
“Now good word for nice thing,” she giggled.
“So I’m too gentleman for your liking?” he teased.
“No! Not take it as that. I was just…”
“… I know,” he interrupted her words with a kiss. “And I’m glad you told me.”
She observed him curiously. “Tell me why.”
“For two reasons,” he said. “The first being that I feel all this focus on giving my attraction a proper place in what we have together has made me neglect your side a little. Too much, I’m now suddenly aware, that’s why I’m glad you woke me up. I know how you meant it, but I feel bad now for never having asked properly. I should know women tend to be more reluctant in such things, so I’ve basically been too preoccupied with myself, and that isn’t good.”
“You have also been liking and appreciating and admiring and loving me,” she corrected. “So much that I never felt need to bring up what I also like, meaning I like very much how we have sex. And even more I like you, as person, as gentle and loving man.”
“So my negligence is forgiven?”
“We make plan to tell each other something you like every day we are together, until everything is told, okay?”
“Perfect plan!”
“And the second reason?” she asked, nibbling his lips.
“The second is much shorter. Because I’d quite like that too.”
“Mmm, really?”
He nodded slowly, nibbling her lips in return.
“Tell me what you would like to do with me now, then…”
“I will, but we can’t do it…”
“Why not?”
“Because it requires something I’m going to buy you tomorrow,” he replied with a decisive grin.
“Oh? You make me really curious now!”
“That is, if you like…”
“If is number one of what you want me to do, I will like, no matter what it is,” she smiled.
“Brave statement!”
“You are gentleman, so is not big risk. I will take it,” she replied, sticking out her tongue.
“Okay then,” he said, moving his hand to her stump. “I often fantasize about you wearing a pegleg, so I’m going to buy you one tomorrow. This fantasy also pictures you in a very sexy, black leather corset, which I’m also going to buy you. And it’ll have to be with seamed fishnet stockings and an extremely classy, black stiletto heel, and that will be the third and fourth thing I’ll be buying you tomorrow.”
She beamed with charmed surprise, pushing her stump into his cupping hand. “Mmm, I will look like a kinky lady that way. Kinky but classy, I like that.”
“Makes two!”
“And um… you let me buy five?”
“Unconditionally,” he grinned. “But I want to know what.”
“Tight, black leather pants for you,” she said. “To match me.”
“I doubt if I’ll look good in them, but it’s a deal,” he smiled broadly. “And so you’ll wear the pegleg?”
“I have never done. But if is your fantasy, I will wear with pleasure. I had one question though?”
“Ask away.”
“With my C-leg, you always prefer me not to wear it. But you do like me with pegleg?”
“Yes, and now you want to know why, eh?”
“Of course I do. And honest answer, please,” she replied, looking as if she already had an idea.
He’d noticed it, so he didn’t hold back, although he preferred to introduce it diplomatically. “I’m very happy the C-leg gives you so much comfort…”
“I said honest answer. So um… cut the crap, you say?” she grinned.
“Excellent English again, American rather, but still.”
“I said cut the crap…?”
“Okay then,” he resigned. “With the C-leg, you walk much too well to trigger my attraction. That’s why I prefer you not wearing it when we’re together. A pegleg is the reverse: it accentuates your amputation, and that obviously triggers.”
“Thank you,” she smiled. “I already knew, but I wanted to hear you say it.”
“And what do you think of it?” he inquired.
“I accept your attraction, and I respect your honesty…”
“… Now you cut the crap, please?” he interrupted.
“Okay, your attraction is strongest for things that make me most amputee. That I find a little bit difficult sometimes.”
“I cannot deny that’s true. For me it’s being fascinated by how you cope with it, but yes, my feelings are strongest when I very clearly see you have one leg. I’m not proud of it, but that’s the essence of my attraction.”
“It would help if you also let me show you how much comfort I have from your wonderful gift? It makes me smile with happiness every time I use it.”
“I’ve never forbidden you to wear it in my presence.”
“No, you haven’t. And you know that is not the issue.”
“You’re not wearing it because you know I prefer you not to…”
“Yes, that is how things work when I wish you to have good time with me. I give in because I am okay with using crutches. But I like more to share my happiness with you.”
“Damn, another thing I should have thought of,” he replied, looking guilty.
“Is fine when you start now,” she reassured him.
“It really is?”
“Yes, really. And no misunderstand me. I love how you look at me with so much desire when I have very clearly one leg, as you call it. You are first man who make me really feel comfortable with my amputation. I show you my stump as much as you like and I feel good every time I show you. I know what you enjoy, how you enjoy. I not only accept but I enjoy too, because you make me feel beautiful and sexy. But I also make it emotional part of how we like each other, of give and take, and so I do things because I know you like. And some are things I rather do other things, like be proud of how good I can walk with C-leg.”
“You’re perfecty right,” he instantly admitted. “And I will have to do my very best to make you feel more comfortable.”
“Is perhaps same thing as my likings for sex? Same reason with same solution?”
He frowned a little. “Explain?”
“We have unusual relationship. Other couples have much more time to talk. We have only weekends together, precious time that we like to spend in feel good for each other.”
“And leave the things we should talk about untouched…” he filled in, nodding.
“Exactly. We think we are free and have no committment, and we forget it is no longer true because we like to have good time.”
“Yes,” he whispered. “You’ve become my steady girl. For two weekends a month and the odd short holiday, but you definitely have.”
“And I want to be your steady girl, my sweet naughty gentleman. With my heart… and with my cunt, to say it very clearly.”
“Please do.”
“And what is your answer?”
“That I want to be your steady man, my incredibly sexy lady.”
“With?” she teased, her eyes twinkling.
“With my pounding heart, with my me who admires, respects and loves you, with all the smiles you bring out in me, and with my hard throbbing cock.”
“In that order?” she giggled.
“Not at this moment, no…”
“Good…” she replied, suddenly groping his crotch and smiling at the big eyes he made.

He was surprised no doubt, he also caught the symbolic side of this. And so he let her, although she looked pretty hard to stop. He was unzipped with speedy dexterity, felt his trousers and briefs being yanked down, moments later her fist was gripping his cock with an exciting lack of mercy. Then she went to stand on her sole knee, using her elbow for support by resting it on the back of the couch they were sitting on. It wasn’t easy to bring off, but it enabled her to have his cock in a firm grip with her stump now dangling free. And she let it, flexing ostentatiously to show him every detail of the haphazard spasming she knew triggered him most.

“We go out for dinner tonight. And I will wear my C-leg and my new blue pants,” she heaved with a naughty smile. Naughty but decisive.
“Yes, you will.”
“But before we do, I show you I also wish to be your amputee mistress, happy with have one leg and excited it gives you big hard cock.”
“Give and take,” he filled in.
“Like to give and like to take,” she nodded slowly.
“This is glorious giving,” he groaned, watching her use her stump as the weapon that left him without defense.
“I know…” she whispered, now pushing his cockhead against her scar, humming seductively as she enjoyed the fervent twitches it caused.
“Argh, this will make me…”
“… I know,” she interrupted him. “Look at me.”
He did, while she was jerking him off. Slowly, no doubt to make him fully aware how strong his attraction was.
“You’ll look ravishing in those new pants,” he said, an attempt to postpone the inevitable. “And no one will notice you’re an amputee when you’ll be wearing your C-leg.”
“They will maybe wonder my limp, but they will not know what you and I know,” she said, smiling mischievously as she smeared out his precum over the twitching soft flesh.
“That you’re my steady girl with a very sexy leg amputation. Who loves to tease me with it and who also loves not being stared at for a change.”
“Mmm, you learn good. I like that. And I also like make you come very hard,” she grinned.
“Well, you’re damn close. But I guess you know that, eh?” he grinned back, looking as sportingly as his face was able to.
She nodded slowly again. “Is very exciting, to know what will happen soon, that it cannot be stopped anymore.”
“You do realise I will take revenge for this, eh?”
It made her giggle, triumphantly. “Mmm, tell me how.”
“We’ll have dinner together, spend a very nice evening out, chatting, laughing, enjoying the food, enjoying each other. But all the time you’ll know that when we get back home, I will lick your hot cunny until you can’t stop orgasming anymore… ”
“Mmm, I like that thought.”
“With your C-leg still on, if you prefer,” he added with a wink.

It made her laugh out loud, but only for a few. Then she looked straight into his eyes. And without blinking an eye, she jerked him straight into a helpless surrender.


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