Belinda Alone

*Note this one needs a lot of editing and formatting...

Belinda Alone       

By Chad     

Belinda got home late that evening, traffic was a bitch. She walked into her kitchen, fixing a nice glass of sherry and grabbing a slice of Monterey Jack to nibble on.  She finished the sherry and rinsed out the glass, leaving it on the tile countertop.       Finishing the cheese, she walked into her bedroom and turned on the music, Nina Simone, and unzipped her dress,letting it slide to the floor.  Belinda always liked this particular dress, a soft black silky number that fell to mid-calf.  She looked at herself in the mirror, thinking of the days' events and sighing.     Belinda worked at Macy's department store, as part of their marketing staff.  Young, attractive, and friendly, she was not unused to attention from the opposite sex or even, on several occasions, her own sex.  Flirting had never been a problem for Belinda, it was just what happened after the flirting stages that was usually the hardest to deal with.     She stared at herself in the full length mirror on the wall.  Long, thick red hair, delicate, china white features on a sensual face, deep green eyes that would make a cat jelous.  Sheundid the black lace bra, letting it drop to the floor.  Large,firm breasts, smooth white except for the tight little pinknipples.  She stared down at her breasts, absentmindedly rollingher nipple in between two warm fingers, running the other handthrough thick hair, caressing the back of her neck.  She lookeddown at her firm stomach, seeing the tight muscles just beneaththe thin layer of skin.  Absolutely fat-free,  a body toned byworkouts and a healthy lifestyle.  A perfect body, oiled andmaintained like a fine Italian auto, a delight to look at, buteven more fun to play with.      His name tag said 'Brian', and he worked for Perry-Ellis. He was there overseeing the layouts for the new P-E campaign, anew tack for the company, aimed at a younger audience.  Belindaloved the new line, and had said so, which Brian had apparentlyappreciated.  He was looking for the reaction of her age group,he had said.  Her age group, like twenty-six was that far from,what was he, twenty -nine, thirty?  This one could be fun, shewas thinking, when he asked her if she liked the mini-skirtline.  She thought someone had slipped with a chuckle as shetrew off a quick "I don't wear miniskirts, sorry".  He took itin stride and went on, but she could tell by his body languagethat getting him home would be...     She stared at her large breasts, her flat stomach, thendown.  The prosthetics were very good, the best money could buy,really.  They matched her delicate skin tone, and the latexcoverings made them look almost natural.  Almost.  She sat onthe edge of her king-sized bed, still watching her reflection asshe undid the small straps that held on her artificial legs. She slid out of the legs, the white of her 'socks' blazingagainst the crimson red sheets.  laying the legs in their placeby the bed, she slid off the socks and began massaging the twosmooth stumps that ended several inches above where her kneesshould have been.  She stared at herself in the mirror, then atthe two stumps.  The massage felt good, kneading out the days'stresses, letting her mind wander.     She couldn't remember a thing about the day it happened, orseveral days later.  Apparently it had been very quick, and thesurgeons had been very good.  The first thing she remembered waswaking up in the middle of the night, not knowing where she was,and having to pee.  When she found the I.V. in her arm, shebecame frightened, but when she had thrown back the sheet to getout of bed, she had screamed and blacked out.  When she came to,a doctor and two nurses were there, talking to her, telling herit had been an accident, she had been hit by a truck walkinghome from school, and that her parents were right outside, allnonsense and babble as she tried to figure out what in God'sname had happened to her legs.  She had been sixteen that day, asophmore in high school.  The driver of the hit and run wasnever caught.  It had taken Belinda eighteen months to walk onher own, without crutches, but it had taken alot longer to lookat herself in the mirror again.     Belinda still stared, now massaging one stump, andcaressing her breast with the other hand.  She could see alittle wet spot beginning on her panties, and she could feel theheat inside her.  She had been with men, the few who couldaccept her as a woman and not the sum of her parts (or the partsshe was lacking.)  She liked men, and after a lot of trial anderrer, found that she really enjoyed sex.  Her favorite sex,though, was right here, alone, when she didn't have to worryabout insecurity or any of the inconvieniences of the outsideworld.  She was as normal as any woman when she was like this,enjoying her hidden desires, her hidden pleasures, legs or nolegs.  She had been so happy to learn, two days after hereighteenth birthday that she didn't need legs to have an orgasm.      Belinda was still caressing one sump as she began to rubher clit over her panties.  The feeling was there again, thatlittle knot in her stomach.  She knew from experience what shecould do with that knot, making it spread throughout her wholebody, from her head to her stumps.  She began to rub and caresswith a stronger rhythm, her stumps spreading out before her. She loved the way the satin sheets felt against them, soft andsmooth, like the stumps themselves.  As she rubbed her clit, shedug her stumps into the sheets, feeling flooding over her. After one last galnce in the mirror, she closed her eyes andlayed back on the bed.       Her now-soaked panties came off in one swift movement. Belinda rubbed the shaved-smooth mound of her sex and stuck herstumps into the air, spread wide.  She spread her pussy lipswith one hand and stroked her bud, going from slow anddeliberate to quick and frantic.  She slid a finger into herhole, sliding it in and out, grinding herself into her hand. She was panting now, her smooth body slick with the sweat ofpassion and desire.  It was time to finish this, and Belindaknew just how.     She slid finger out of her pussy and reached to the dresser next to the bed.  She blindly found what she was looking for and pulled it out.  The vibrator was trim and sleek, not like those vulgar ones displayed in the magazines.  She had gotten it,strangely enough, because it was the same color as her prosthetic legs, some kind of weird coincidence.  She clicked it on and heard the familiar hum as the vibration began.  She touched it to her nipples first, which went from hard to harder instantly.  She traced a line with her toy down the middle of her stomach, the pleasure waves increasing the closer she got to her pussy.  Not too soon, she reminded herself, and continued to tease, running the machine around her clit, holding it in between her stumps, just barely penetrating her ass with it.  Finally,as the stroking became more and more frantic, she slid it into herself, slowly at first, moving the vibrator in and out deeply,slowly, feeling the vibrations through her whole frame.  She grasped the vibrator with both hands then, driving it deep within herself, kneading her knuckles into her clit, squirming and bucking, her stumps thrashing in the air.       She spun over then, onto her stomach, and pushed her ass into the air on her stumps.  She was bucking wildly, her stumps tangling the sheets as they carried her to extacy, Belinda fucking the vibrator driven deep inside her, fucking her fists,hips bucking and stumps pounding her pussy again and again into the mattress, until finally she let out a gasp, a great moan of orgasmic intensity.  She rode the orgasm, rolling on her side as her stumps spread open convulsively.  She kept fucking the vibrator to keep the pleasure going, until her entire body was drained and she collapsed onto the mattress, the vibrator still inside her, gently humming.     

Belinda roused herself a short while later, rolling onto her back and squeezing down on muscles made strong by years of wearing prosthetics.  The vibrator slid out of her and she shut it off and dropped it to the floor.  She pushed herself up and slid into the wheelchair she liked to use when at home and alone, then wheeled herself into the bathroom.  She started the bath and then rolled into the kitchen and pouring herself another glass of wine.                                                           

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