Story – Polish pleasures (6) – Senses

“My stump is becoming wrinkled. Maybe I should have her lifted?” she chuckled.

He grinned at her, but didn’t stop his second favourite way to make her purr like a kitten. And hers. With number one being pretty obvious, massaging her stump followed at a close distance that was still getting closer. Both his feeling free to express his special attraction and her progress in actively accepting it were still making progress. Next to that, they’d meanwhile found the proper balance between enjoying to see each other and not neglecting the need to talk regularly. In ‘normal’ relationships that would be obvious, it was a bit of a challenge when being together was roughly restricted to two long weekends a month and the occasional short holiday.

“Lifted? Like a facelift, you mean?”
“Yes, plastic surgery.”
“Um… you’re joking, eh?”
“I don’t know!” she giggled. “What do you think?”

His first thought was what she’d call the typical male response: he wondered if there’d be plastic surgeons who would do a thing like this, followed by thinking these guys would probably take on any lifting job they got paid for. Decently too. And he decided not to mention them.

“Your stump looks perfect to me. Why lift it?”
“Look at the skin,” she pouted – but not really – as her hand joined his. “Wrinkles everywhere, and the muscles are flabby.”
“And how long have you had this, darling?”
“Since I was twelve, so you count,” she chuckled.
“Wouldn’t that be long enough for a bit of wrinkling and flabbiness to be perfectly normal, dear?”

She was good at reading his facial expressions, and this was his slightly sarcastic one. The ‘dear’ and ‘darling’ were clues too, and of course he was right. Being an amputee of over thirty years, she should hardly expect her stump to show no signs of age. But maybe this was foremost about confirmation.

“This is not about normal. This is about feeling I get when I see myself in mirror,” she smiled womanly.
“The woman in her forties worrying she’s not twenty anymore…”
“Something like that, yes.”
“I’m no Greek God anymore either, darling…”
“But you are a man!”
“And you are a very sexy woman,” he instantly replied. “Not twenty anymore, and it shows, but what if I really love that?”
“How do you mean?” she asked semi-incredulously.
“Like I said, sexy lady,” he explained, instantly again. “The kilos you gained gave you a charming belly, buttocks I can’t keep my eyes off and boobies that make me drool because they sag a little. And on top of that, you have a perfect leg amputation to match that perfect body of yours. All in all, I truly adore the way you look.”
“So no change anything?” she continued her playful begging.
“Take any actress or model, have her stand naked next to you and I wouldn’t even bother to look at her.”
“Not even peek?” she giggled.
“Well, maybe for a second. But no more!” he winked.

It made her smile turn into a beam, and she kissed him humming with charmed content. Really believing his compliments was something she’d had to learn, and only since the last few weeks did she genuinely feel she did. No doubt, having found the right balance in their relationship played a major part in that. It had made her trust him unconditionally, it had also given her both the courage and the determination to let his attraction be a taboolessly accepted part of what they had together.

It meant persuading her gentleman lover to no longer be gentlemanly with his attraction, for herself it meant daring to redefine her self-image according to that attraction. Not as some sort of passive servitude – which she would hate, and her independent character would never let her – but as actively taking the consequence of her choice. She was in a relationship with a devotee, she wanted that relationship as much as he did, denying his attraction would be as impossible as denying her leg amputation, and so her conclusion had been that she should not just accept his attraction but also internalise it. And obviously there was a huge part in this for him as well, she’d made it her own challenge to free herself of any doubt regarding her looks, and replace it with confidently enjoying to be his heart’s desire.
With a perfect leg amputation, as he called it and she wished it to feel like.

“You can look longer. You may even enjoy it. As long as you always return to me,” she replied, kissing again.
“O, I think I can promise that, easily.”
“And why easily?” she asked, knowing he knew she was teasing his gentlemanly inclination to be diplomatic.
“Because no woman looks at me like you do, and because no woman so freely offers me the beauty of her body and dares to seduce me like you do with your glorious butt, your sexy belly, your fabulous boobies and your otherwordly perfect stump.”
“Mmm, you make improvement. I like that…” she smiled seductively, humming when his hands resumed their heavenly massage.

Perhaps this was the most important check on her progress, by now it certainly was the most exciting one. The intuitive reflex to withdraw whenever he’d touch there was gone meanwhile, as was the vague sense of forbiddenness to associate the remains of an amputated leg with pleasure.

She’d always hated people who felt sorry for her, but she also knew there was a feeling sorry inside herself. It was a subtle and often unnoticed mechanism that caused her to block the truth of certain sensations. When alone, she’d often thoughtlessly fondle her stump, simply because it felt soft and nice. And she’d enjoy it as long as she remained thoughtless. Yet as soon as she realised she was enjoying, she’d feel that vague forbiddenness kick in.

Those days were behind her now though. Fondling her stump had become an unencumbered pleasure, and every look in a mirror was with a smile not only unhampered by the sight of her left leg missing, but made broader by realising this was genuinely how she wished to look. His attraction had made her take the last hurdles towards complete self-acceptance first, and now it was nurturing the twinkling awareness of really believing it made her beautiful and sexy.
In his eyes only perhaps, but his were the only eyes that really mattered.

“You are as well…” he smiled meaningfully.
“I think you are right, so more please,” she winked.

They’d been shopping all day, so there was a valid reason for this massage. The comfort of her prosthesis notwithstanding, a whole day of a lot of walking was pretty stressful, and it’d made her stump come out of the socket begging for relief.

Massaging the cramps out was long done already though. This was the heavenly aftermath of feeling her relaxed stump be worshipped by a man who was no longer diplomatic about his attraction. At this moment, he was passionately sticking to their no taboo agreement too, and she could feel it as deep kneading hands that shamelessly felt up the fleshly details of where and how her leg had been cut off.

Her own part of the no taboo was allowing herself to freely enjoy this, daring to let the passion of his hands be a stronger pleasure than the gushing sensation of being amputated they caused was confronting. The true depths of his attraction had no compassion with her having to miss a leg. Bluntly put, there was nothing he desired more about her than her leg being amputated the exact way it was, and he was genuinely aroused by everything her having one leg forced her to do differently.
For her, the essence of no taboo was about daring to define that as a positive aspect of their relationship. Or in other words: about accepting she was perfection in the eyes of the man she wished to share her life with, and open the inner doors to fully enjoy it. And while some would describe this as too obediently following the preferences of a man, she considered it her own choice, a choice derived from finding she had a right like anyone else to be found attractive. And it was nobody’s business how she choose to excericise this right.

And so, she asked for more, groaning with every squeeze, and pushing hard by letting go. She breathed out and fully surrendered, allowing the full tactile impact of his hands to convince her sensations of the excitement of possessing a stump. The sorrow over loss redefined as enjoying what she was given in return. Her stump as the remains of an almost hip high amputation redefined as sexy, soft, rounded flesh that added to her attractiveness. Her being forced to hop or use crutches redefined as the special elegance of one-legged walking. And the ever feeble confidence that she’d cope with her ravaged body redefined as carefreely regarding her stump a weapon of seduction.

“Does this feel as good as I think I’m seeing it does?” he grinned.
“What you see is very much right,” she grinned back, sticking out her tongue.
“Your turn then to show improvement?”

It was part of their no taboo agreement to also say the things you thought and felt. And while this verbal aspect was mainly intended to help a gentleman lose his gentlemanly reservations, she’d insisted to be asked the same, simply because it helped to speak out.

“Nobody can make my stump feel so intensely an amputation as you. No eyes can look so strong to wish my leg to be amputated as yours. No man has ever make me wish I had my stump, but you make me very much excited to have her. It give me shivers when you say I have the perfect amputated leg.”
“Mmm, I’d call that improvement too, wow,” he smiled, his heart pounding.
“And lifting my stump was not serious,” she added, smiling confidently. “I like my stump flabby, because she feel very soft then, and if we stay together I will have more wrinkles than only my stump, and my boobies will sag more and my belly will maybe get bigger than you find charming. And I will not mind… not at all and never.”
“As I will still find you the sexiest woman in the world then.”
“And you will not look at young actress or model still?” she asked, grinning broadly.
“Only if you make me,” he winked.
“I will take no risk then!” she giggled, and then her look turned a little mysterious.

He watched her as she made him first sit relaxed on the couch, and then opened his trousers. No more; just giving him access, it seemed, which was correct. Then she unbuttoned her blouse, took it off, reached behind her back to unclasp her bra, let her full breasts fall free with the proper degree of knowing what he liked, then slipped out of her panties and stood up to stand in front of him.

She changed her stance continuously, but only to let the small hops make her stump dangle. With light pats of her left hand, she made it do that more, as she twitched now and then to confidently show him the flabbiness of thirty-one years of being amputated, sharing the tickling awareness of genuinely not wishing not to be, and give him her excited smile upon seeing his hand slide into his visibly bulging pants.

She also plucked her nipples, making them loosely jiggle the softness of her boobs. As she made her right hand slide down towards her proudly nude femininity, using her agile fingers without a trace of shame while teasingly cupping and kneading her stump with her left. There was no reluctance to show him his fast growing hardness had an effect on her, made her more willing to play his arousal, let that play hers in response and thus start up the wonderful upward spiral of being one another’s reason for sexual hunger mounting rapidly. And all along this tease, she willingly played with a special beauty she enjoyed to possess, with an ever increasing pleasure to seduce him with it.

“I see you have very hard cock…”
“My beautifully amputated one-legged mistress is doing that to me…”
“Am I…?”
“You bet you are…”
“I love to do it, did you know?”
“Love to do what exactly?”
“Seduce you with my stump.”
“And what makes you like it?”
“I know how hot you find it, and I love you. That makes first reason.”
“So there’s more?”

She nodded, continuing to fondle her stump and continuing to watch the effect it had on him. “I have always wished to free myself of feel like undesirable woman. Before you, I succeeded in feeling okay, in accept it. I had good life and I managed. But life was without sparkles, and my soul never really smiled. Small smiles yes, but never big smiles. And never a man that had big smile himself when think of me.”

He listened without interrupting. Her story was sure as hell moving enough to say a few words of understanding, but her strong character would wave them away, he knew. Her refusal of pity was categorical, especially when she was telling him things she felt he should know. She wanted to share them, unvarnished and without solutions, good advice or compassion. And so he just nodded.

“You were man who gave me big smile when we first met, but also many thoughts,” she continued. “It feel very pleasant, a man who find me sexy with leg amputated. I knew they exist, because I had boyfriend when I was young who had the same. For him though, I was trophy girl with stump. But in the beginning I loved it. He desired me and I had never seen that in eyes of a man, so I fell for him. Until I realised he was in love with my stump, and not with me.”

Despite what she was telling, she continued to fondle her stump, he noticed. The seriousness of her words had made him remove his hand from his pants, out of courtesy, yet something in her eyes told him she wouldn’t mind at all if he hadn’t. Their no taboo agreement was two months on now, and she was taking it very seriously.

“The girl of twenty I was then learned from this,” she continued, smiling subtly because it referred to something they’d talked about earlier. “I learned I wish to be woman who happens to have one leg, and not someone who is liked for have an amputation. It make me feel better about myself, it also make me discover it was hard to find a man who like me how I am. And then I met you, and saw my world turn around again. I instantly noticed you looked at me like that boyfriend from long ago did, so I knew what you liked. And years and years of not find nice man made me long for be desired, so I seduced you.”

She had, very definitely. The memory of that first evening was still etched in his mind.

“After we made love very nicely, I also saw nice man. So I did not mind second meeting. For me only for sex, but nice sex with nice man who find me sexy. And then I saw nice man was very nice, and your eyes told me you not only find my stump sexy, but also me. You showed interest in my life, in what I do, in what I like, and I saw you admired me for how I did and for how I enjoy what I do. And that gave me first big smiles, well, first big smiles after big smiles of nice sex,” she chuckled.

He just gave her a wink. And a smile of admiration.

“You were also man who choose to have his own life. Some woman take that as not find them important enough, but I very much liked. And when you told me about divorce, I knew you also made choice for life of your own that include me. And then I had many more thoughts.”

She changed her stance again, confidently enjoying how it instantly drew his attention. Another twitch of her stump, this time unwitting. It made her smile, smile from what felt as her stump having a body language of her own.

“Then hot weekends changed to a relationship, not standard but still relationship for my feeling. I felt friendship, I felt fun and happiness when we together, I felt you desire to see me, and me desire to see you. And I felt wonderful every time I see you look at me: when we talk, when we cook together, when I see you proud of me walking in town or eating in restaurant, when I tell you I go do study again. All very important to me, and for relationship more important than you find me sexy. But sexy very nice too,” she added with a wink.

Again, he just winked back. And he enjoyed every bit of this intriguing combination of telling him all this and standing nude in front of him, ravishingly confident with looking the way she looked.

“So, I felt I had to make decision, decision to respect your feelings. Relationship with you would always be relationship of me have amputation and you attracted to that. Not as dominant or most important part, but always there. And because always there, it would need to have place we both feel good with. But there are different ways to give place.”

Now he frowned a little, curiously though.

“One place is me accept and let you enjoy, and I already knew I can do that, and also enjoy a little myself. But this would for me be tolerance, and for you have permission. It would be accept as reality for me, as pleasure I allow you but not pleasure of myself.”

He nodded again, noting her stump was twitching more, and unconsciously so, it looked.

“Then I feel love for you grow bigger, and it make me unsatisfied with only accept. It also make me feel that when you love me for who I am, I should love you for who you are. And for me it mean I should also love attraction the man I love have. Not accept but like, so I decide I need teach myself to like. And teach to like attraction mean learn to like what attraction is about, so learn to like I have stump. Not feel it as amputation and loss, but as something that make me special, and for you sexy. So I asked for no taboo, to know everything of your attraction and to know what I need to learn to make me more than accept it. I also asked respect and understand for my own wishes, because for me that was natural other side of this. I can only enjoy if I can feel free to be myself. And when I feel you gave me freedom, I felt desire to learn enjoy become very strong.”

This confession was approaching its finale, and it showed from her now very determinedly kneading her stump. Right in front of his eyes, as it was meant to. And it was giving him shivers down his spine.

“I am learning still,” she said, looking straight into his eyes. “And this is learning too, stand naked before you and fondle my stump. Also feel my stump twitch by herself, meaning she like your eyes find her hot. I feel excitement when I see her give you big hard cock, not yet same excitement as when my boobies make you hard, but not totally different. But most of all, I feel liberation now, because all bad thoughts have disappeared, also the subtle small ones. I feel total freedom to enjoy how I look, with no more desire to not have amputation. And it feel like I am light as a feather.”

It was then that he got up, and this time it was her offering him a pulling hand, giggling and beaming. The otherworldly sensuous kiss he gave her was hardly a surprise, and she surrendered to it with all she had. What followed was a surprise though, but then again she loved surprises.

“This has made me feel I can make love to you forever, my beautiful mistress. And I will, all night long to start with. But first you go dress up in the sexiest dress you have, and I’ll make a phone call while you do.”
“Mmm, this means I will not be cooking for you, I think?”
“With a bit of luck, I’ll have the best chef in this country cook for you…”
“The best??”
“What I said, the best.”
Senses??” she asked, both surprised and looking very eager; he was talking the most famous restaurant in Poland.
“Yup, I somehow thought that’d be an appropriate place to celebrate.”
“But that’s in Warsaw….”
“About an hour, yes. If you let me drive,” he grinned.
“And if you succeed to get table…”
“Let that be my worry, okay? You go dress.”
“Okay,” she beamed. “And how should I tickle your senses in Senses?” she asked, meaningfully patting her stump.
“Do I have a choice?” he winked.
“Tonight you have, but only tonight. And I already know your answer,” she winked back.

He needed to pull a few strings to have any chance. Just giving them a call would surely not work with a Michelin star restaurant. He’d once had lunch there with someone he’d cracked a big deal with though, and this guy looked on very good terms with the chef.
He dialed his number, exchanged a few joking pleasantries, and then reminded him of a promise made after that lunch. It was followed by a smile, and about two minutes later he heard a text message come in: Senses was very happy to receive them, and ‘appropriate lodging’ was going to be arranged.

“And what would my ravishing mistress wish to see me wear?” he asked, entering her bedroom to bring the good news.

She was about to put on a sexy dark blue bra, the matching part of the string that was already making her buttocks look glorious. She kept it in her hands when she saw him enter though, enjoying his ever predatory looking whenever her breasts were bare.

“Your camel Italian suit,” she replied firmly. “Matches with my dress and is tribute to chef.”
“I like that eye for detail,” he smiled, appreciating she knew the chef was Italian. “And did I ever tell you I find your boobies incredibly hot?”
“Mmm, now you make me want to fuck you, and we have no time for that,” she grinned.
“But we’ll have a superb dinner awaiting us,” he replied.”And we’re going to enjoy every bite of it while knowing what we’re going to do afterwards.”
“Mmm, yes. Sound very, very nice. But where do we do the afterwards?”
“Being taken care of, they told me. So I don’t know where, but it’s going to be good.”
“And who do we owe for this?” she smiled, taking her time to put on her bra.
“I’ll take care of that,” he winked.
“I would not mind to owe you,” she winked back.
“No taboo means we never judge each other, I feel it also means we never owe each other. What we give in return is what our hearts tell us to, and I think I’ve come to very much like that.”
“Mmm, and you give me Senses in return for most liberating thing I ever dared to do. How wonderful.”
“I give you Senses in return for being the woman of my dreams, my darling.”

Her smile was moved and charmed when she reached for the stocking to match her dress and the stiletto heel to go with it. This restaurant would have valet parking, so there’d only be limited toe torture to pay for looking as stylishly seductive as she wished to tonight.

She stretched her leg ostentatiously, totally at ease to have only one and willingly tickling his attraction. If she really was the woman of his dreams, she’d make it her pleasure to be that woman. And meanwhile, she didn’t have a trace of doubt she really was. There was simply too much eveidence, and since most of it had nothing to do with her being an amputee, it was easy to let that be part of their getting along greatly as well. She’d never be able to endure his attraction otherwise, but with all conditions met it was also remarkably easy to enjoy it. And with fun, a word that had never come across with respect to her leg amputation before, and that now sounded like a warm welcome to something that had been out of her vocabulary much too long.

“And you give me Senses, and I will fuck you senses-less afterwards…” she replied.

With a grin more naughty than she’d never thought her grin could be.


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