Kim

 KIM


    7 p.m. Quiet. The last rays of a Friday afternoon sun slant across the
balcony of my apartment turning the condensation on my martini to gold. Below
me, the city finishes its work. Friday afternoon. The martini is perfect. Only
a few neighbors are taking the evening on their balconies. I can  see the
heads of a couple down to my left  and farther across the way a boy plays with
some out of view toy. 
    That's one thing about the balconies at the apartments here. Privacy is
high on the list and one really can't see much of the neighbors, nor they of
you. The crowd of the city is left behind and the apartment dweller is
permitted a kind of serene isolation. In one way at least, that's a pity. Why?
Because I have a neighbor who has peaked my curiosity. 
    She's not over there on her balcony tonight. At least, not yet. I decide
to linger over my drink and wait a while longer. Maybe she'll come out. What
makes me curious about her, is that in the three months I've lived here, I've
never seen her standing up. Always  sitting down. Consequently, I've only seen
her face above the balcony enclosure. A remarkably attractive face it is, with
long, reddish auburn hair. I've never seen a man there, so I presume she's
single.
    So I decide to top up my drink and relax. It's a nice evening. I step back
to the kitchen,  rebuild my martini and put some mixed nuts in a little bowl. 
    When I return to the balcony, she's come out and seated herself on my side
of the balcony. She usually sits on the far side, facing the pool, but tonight
she has seated herself on my side. 
    My curiosity has grown almost uncontrollable, but it simply wouldn't be
appropriate to call over to her. That would break the code of serene
isolation.
    She's smiling at me. She's turned, facing me and she's smiling. That's the
first time in ninety days that she's acknowledged my presence. Well now, OK,
the invitation has been issued. I offer a little wave, and smile in return.
She nods, smiles again and looks away. Her hair reflects the colors of the
sunset.
    The sounds of the city have subsided now. I get to my feet and glance over
at my neighbor. I can see just her head and neck, down to the top of her
shoulders.
    "Nice night, Isn't it?" I say, breaking the code of serenity.
    She turns suddenly and looks directly at me. She says nothing for a what
must be a few seconds but feels like an eon.
    Then she smiles again. "Yes, it is. Been nice all day, really."
    "Been at the office all day, so I didn't see much of it. Nice now,
though."
    She nods and gazes out across the city.
    "I work at home," she says, looking at the city. "It's a lot easier for
me."
    And then she was quiet. 

    That's the way the first evening went. She offered no further explanation
of the work that she did nor broached any new topic. The phone rang in my
apartment and when I returned she had disappeared.
    The following day, Saturday, was busy at the department where I work, so I
went in to work. There was a lot to do, not so all-occupying that my mind
didn't wander back to the neighbor I might encounter that evening. What did
she look like? Perhaps she fat. No, probably not. Her face and neck would have
revealed that. What, then?
    The puzzle persisted in my mind as prepared my usual before dinner drink.
I could just see the corner of her balcony from my little bar.
    There. There she was. Moving slowly and rather awkwardly to the place
where she had been seated the evening before. She seemed to be sliding along
the seat, from what I could see over the balcony wall. She appeared to be
wiggling her way  into the front corner, as if she had seated herself first,
then moved along in that sitting position. Strange, I thought. Odd.
    I walked out to my balcony with my drink.
    "Hi!" I said. "'Nother nice evening!"
    "Hi!" she said, and smiled that big pretty smile. "Yes, it is. I'm so glad
to have this balcony on evenings like this. I have a little trouble getting
myself out here but on nights like this it's worth it. You come out most
nights, don't you?"
    "Oh, indeed I do," I said. Good. A conversation. Hooray! I wonder what she
means by trouble getting out here?
    "I see you over there all the time," she continued, "with your evening
libation. Looks like a martini. Right?"
    "Exactly. Are you a connoisseur of the classics?"
    "Oh, I like them...It's just that, well, let's just say I'm pretty  clumsy
in the kitchen and I can't...I mean I don't make myself one very often.
Classic...That must mean gin, not vodka, right?"
    "Right, again." I took a firm grip on my courage. "May I make you one?"
    Her smile disappeared. Even in the glow of the setting sun, I could see
her face become pale.
    "Oh," she said. "Gosh, I don't know. It's a very nice offer. It's just
that..." She looked away from me and downward.
    "I apologize," I said quickly, "I don't even know your name and here I am
offering you a drink. I'm sorry. That was out of order."
    "No," she said looking back, "It's not that. I watch you out here all the
time and I really did want to meet you... Just surprised me, that's all. Yes,
that's it, it was a surprise." She looked back to me. Her color was returning.
    "Well, my offer still stands," I said, "Even if my timing was a little
ahead of schedule. It won't take but a second. OK?"
    She was quiet for some time then looked at me very intently. A serious
expression was on her face. "You have to know a couple of things," she said.
"Well, first of all, I should know your name, Mr. Next-door-martini-drinking
man."
    "Jim," I said. "Jim Lathrop."
    "Hi, Jim," she said, "My name's Kim. Kim Morrison."
    "Nice to meet you,  I chuckled and reached out as if offering a handshake
clear across to the other balcony. She turned and although her right shoulder
moved slightly, she must have thought better of returning the gesture.
    "Jim," she said, " I guess I'd better just come out and say it. I'm
disabled."
    "Disabled?"
    "Right. You'll see. I don't advertise it and I don't even like to admit it
to myself, but I just wanted to let you know in advance. Maybe you'll want to
take back your offer."
    "Not at all! When I make an offer it stands." I said, "I'll meet you at
your hall door in five minutes."
    "Um...Ok, well...I have a little trouble doing some things...so  I had a
kind of secret button set into the left side of the doorway to my
apartment...looks just like a little panel in the woodwork, a little below
waist high. Just push that and my door opens and you can come in and go
straight through to the balcony, OK?"
    I was puzzled, but agreed.

    Five minutes later, with two martinis and a small platter of assorted
munchies on a little tray, I found the secret panel and let myself into Kim's
apartment. The open glass doors to the balcony were straight ahead but I took
some time getting there, glancing around the living-dining room area as I
passed through. A black, powered wheelchair was parked near the door with a
compartmented bag slung over the back. Low bookcases lined the walls, with
everything arranged quite low to the floor. Aside from that, the room was
nicely decorated and quite pleasant.
    Ahead, beyond the doors, on a long bench along one side of the balcony,
her back to me, was Kim.
    As I walked toward her, the first thing I realized was that she had no
arms to speak of. Just little stubs, barely long enough to peek out of the
sleeveless jade green top she was wearing. I supposed her legs were in front
of her, on the bench. Her long auburn hair sparkled in the evening sun. I
understood now, why she couldn't return my gesture of a handshake. In spite of
the oddity of her condition, I didn't find that it made her unattractive. In
fact, with her trim waist, she looked very appealing indeed.
    "Hi, Kim," I said, announcing myself as I stepped through the doors to the
balcony. "Am I on schedule?"
    "Oh, hi!" she chirped. "I was just watching those kids playing  down
there." She lifted her tiny right arm nub out as if trying to point. "Must be
fun to be able to run and jump like that. Oh, here, sit down."
    Suddenly she swiveled in place, fully facing me. 
    No legs at all. None. Tight fitting shorts revealed a fullness of flesh at
the hips. It would be an exaggeration to call them stumps
    What she did have were breasts. Huge, uncontrolled breasts that had
created havoc within her jade top when she swung around. 
    "Sometimes I pretend I can run...but this is all that happens," she said
pointing at her hips. "There's no bone in there, but I can wiggle these
muscles a little. See?" 
    The flesh at each hip trembled and twitched.
    "So here I am," she said, flipping her tiny armlets, her giant bosom
moving in sympathetic response. "Pretty much a mess, right?"
    "Not at all! Unusual, to be sure, but you're really quite attractive," I
said.
    "Well, that's probably a bunch of bull, but I'll take it in the spirit in
which it's intended," she laughed. "Now then, you promised me a martini!"
    I lifted the tray with a glass near the edge over toward her.
    "OK, now how're we going to do this?" she said half aloud, reaching out as
far as her tiny arm nubs would reach. 
    "My stupid little arms are so short I can't even make them touch in front,
so I guess I'd better not try to hold the stem...Let's see if I can hold onto
the top of the glass."
    She wiggled her armlets. "Can you sort hold a glass up...kind of put it
between my arms?"
    I did as I was asked and she gently took the frosty glass between the tips
of her nubs.
    Taking the other glass from the tray, I touched the rim of hers.
    "Cheers!"
    "Yes, indeed, cheers!" she said. "Welcome to Kim's balcony!"

    I watched her as she craned her long beautiful neck forward and sipped the
drink.
    "Yummy," she smiled, "You make good martinis!"
    "Thank you."
    "I bet you're a good cook, too. Men who cook usually are pretty good at
it, I hear.
    "How'd you know I cook?"
    "Lotsa times you bring out your dinner and eat it on your balcony. I watch
from inside. You cook dinner for your friends...dates, I guess, sometimes,
too. I'm a real nosy girl, aren't I?"
    We laughed.  
    "You know more about me than I do of you," I said. " I heard you say that
you worked at home. What do you do?"
    "Graphic design. I work on a computer and I have contracts with several
companies. Never have to leave the apartment if I don't want to."
    "And you can do everything for yourself? I mean you're completely
independent?" I asked.
    "Almost. That's part of the deal I made with my folks." She sipped more of
her martini. " Can't do a lot of things, though. like hold a glass and get
some of those munchies at the same time."
    I held the plate of munchies up next to her cheek, and she nibbled some
things from the plate.
    "Hey, you're a mind reader!" she said when her mouth emptied. "That was
perfect! Thanks." She sipped from her drink again.
    "What did you mean about a deal with your Dad?" I asked.
    "Oh. That's about having my own apartment. I had to prove to them that I
could do everything , well pretty much everything  for myself, before he'd let
me move away from home. I really can't, but I can do enough to make them think
I can. It's just so incredibly wonderful to be independent. I just love it."
    "And you're out on your own. Good for you," I said. "You don't use
artificial limbs or anything? Wouldn't that help?"
    "No way. Folks made me wear that stuff when I was little, when Mom was
still alive but all it ever did was tie me down. All strapped up, I couldn't
move at all. By the time I was fifteen I'd made such a big deal out of it
Daddy'd let me go without them. I still use my wheelchair when I go out, but
other than that it's what you see is what I've got."
    We laughed a little laugh.
    "Seriously. I could wave the arms, but with my little arms I couldn't
really make the hooks work and they were hot and heavy and even really hurt
sometimes. And the legs, well they were a total loss. I threw a lot of
tantrums until they let me go without them."
    "Hey," she interrupted herself, "I have a problem with your martini
glasses. They get empty too fast."
    I took her glass and my own back to my place and refilled them.  When I
returned she was in the process of slipping down from the bench, onto the
floor of the balcony.
    "It's a lot easier getting down than getting up." she declared. "When I
was a little kid I could clamber up on stuff like this bench with no problem.
When I was twelve, though, I started developing these big old boobs of mine
and I swear, they're as much of a handicap as my little arms and no legs."
    "Really? From where I was sitting, I found them magnificent!"
    "Oh yeah? You should just live with them for a few days."
    I considered the idea for a moment, and decided that if that opportunity
arose, and that she was still attached to those two giants, I might well
accept the offer.
    I handed her the refilled glass, and she took it, leaning back against the
bench.
    "Mmmm. just as good as the first." she said. "Did you think any more about
my question about cooking?"
    I admitted a fair acquaintenship with the furnishings and tools of the
kitchen:     "I've got some things in the freezer and some  chicken I was
planning to do tonight... will that do?" 
    "That'll do just fine. Um. You wanta see the rest of my apartment?"
    "I'd be honored."
    She 'handed' me her drink. "Here, take this. can't walk and hold a drink
at the same time. Isn't that a pisser?"

    "I try to keep it just like anybody else's except maybe to keep stuff
where I can reach it without getting up on a footstool or something. That's
about all."
    She laboriously  made her way in from the balcony, swinging one hip
forward, settling her weight on that side, then repeating the process on the
other side. The flesh at her hips twitched and wiggled in some useless memory
of locomotion and her enormous breasts swung about wildly as she thrust her
torso back and forth.
    "Sorry I'm not faster getting around. You can see what I mean about the
boobies, though, right? No joke, I gotta be real careful when I'm running
around the house. These old girls weigh so much that if I turn around quick or
something like that, they throw me off balance and I end up flopping around on
the floor like a fish out of water."
    She had reached a small hallway that ran back to the right.
    "Here's  the office," she said, flipping an arm nub in the direction of
one room. Computer, and stuff down where I can get at it. I use a trackball
instead of a mouse. That works out pretty well...and over here's the bedroom."
    "Regular bed? Not on the floor?" I asked.
    "That was one of the things in the deal with my Dad. It's kinda a bitch
getting up there, but a deal's a deal."
    "I see the hanger bar in the closet's been lowered."
    "Yes. Takes me forever to get dressed, though. Most days I don't bother,
unless I'm expecting someone. And over here...": she said, swinging around
toward the bathroom..."Oh damn."
    "What?"
    "See what happens? I reach up and turn at the same time and look who's
come out to play!"
    Kim's gigantic left breast had bounded out of it's green covering and was
swaying proudly back and forth before her.
    "And the problem is that I have to topple over, lie down and slide along
the floor to get that blouse back down over her. That's the way I have to get
dressed, 'cept I usually do it in bed."
    "Would you like me to rearrange your blouse?"
    Kim gave me a sly wink and chortled, " Why Jim, we've just met...perhaps
after dinner," and giggled a wonderful musical giggle.
    "Oh, you mean cover up Miss Letitia? Well she does enjoy the fresh air,
but perhaps under the circumstances, decorum might be the best thing!"
    I pulled the fabric back into place. "Letitia?"
    "Letitia and the other one's Bernice. Anyone that big deserves her own
name, don't you think?"
    I chuckled. "True, but they do seem a bit uncontrolled."
    "True. They just flop around wherever they feel like it. I did wear a bra
for a little while. Specially made. Expensive, too but then I couldn't move
the dear things out of the way when I wanted to. There they were, jutting out
in front of me like a pair of missiles ready for firing. I have a short enough
reach as it is, without a pair of iron maidens getting between me and whatever
I'm doing. Besides, that was an extra fifteen or twenty minutes just getting
the thing in place and I'm sure neither Bernice nor Letitia enjoyed being
crammed into those bags. Straps hurt, too. Now then, on with the tour."
    Upon inspecting her woefully under-equipped kitchen, it was decided to
cook at my place and come back over to her apartment to dine. She had special
silver that she found easier to use.

    "So this is the master's castle, eh?" she mused, inspecting my apartment. 
I had carried her across from her place and put her in an easy chair that had
a commanding view of my Pullman kitchen . "Mind if I look around?"
    "Make yourself at home."
    She wriggled and wobbled and slid down from the chair and headed off
toward the back of the apartment, exhibiting more moving parts than would seem
imaginable, given her physical limitations.
    "Pretty much the same floor plan as mine, but just reversed," I heard her
say from the hall. "I like what you've done with...whoops."
    "What now?"
    The texture of your carpet and the fabric of my shorts seem to have
established an affinity for each other!"
    "What happened?"
    "I just walked out of my shorts. Sorry. I do it all the time. My hips
taper the wrong way or something and with me twisting and twirling all around
they just come down every once in a while. I'm really sorry. Took me forever
to get them on this afternoon, too. "
    This afternoon?"
    "Right. I don't usually wear bottoms at all, just because they fall off
all the time. Makes it faster when I have to go, too. Speaking of which..."
    Same place it is in yours...need a hand?"
    "Sure. Two if you got 'em. Can I keep them?" and she laughed. "No, I can
manage, thanks. I won't even have to use up any of your toilet paper."
    I stopped peeling the onion I had in my hands.
    "How's that?"
    "I just have to pee and I've learned how to stop without leaving a drop.
As long as I shave every morning, it's no problem at all." And the bathroom
door closed. 

    With dinner safely in the oven and Kim back in the easy chair, albeit sans
shorts, we settled back to our drinks. I had transferred her drink into a
different glass which now nestled conveniently in the cleft of her gigantic
bosom, leaving her minuscule arm stubs free for expression.
    Our conversation had returned to the matter of shaving.
    "I use an electric razor that I set in a rest and hold myself over it.
Only takes a few minutes, first armpits and then my down-below. Started doing
it when I was twelve, mostly 'cause it felt good on my down below stuff and it
made me feel grown up, like Daddy. I still pee facing forward like he did,
too. I still really like him."
    "You said at one point 'when Mom was still alive..."
    "Right. She died when I was seven. I remember her, but she was in a lot of
pain toward the end and I guess my memory of her is colored by that. So that
left my two brothers, Daddy and me. Brothers are OK, I guess. They really
encouraged me to be independent. Always treated me just like another little
brother. Never cut me any slack."
    "So that's where your sense of self and independence comes from, eh?"
    "True. Helped me a lot at first, but  I think I may have thought I was in
better shape than I really am."
    "How do you mean?"
    "Hard reality. Just slammed in the face time and time again by cold, harsh
reality."

    Dinner was ready and I  carried the various plates and dishes of food over
to Kim's apartment and at her direction set the table.

    Our conversation was diverted by the food, wine, and the techniques that
Kim used at the table. I was fascinated by the way she held a fork in her
mouth until it contained the food she wanted, then rested it on the edge of
the plate and pushed down on the handle with the nearest arm stub. That neatly
levered the food up where she could put it between her wonderfully adept lips.
To cut something, she held the fork in her teeth and clamping a knife under
one little arm, usually the left one, she sawed away until the cut was made.
With Kim's body hunched low over the table, Bernice and Letitia swayed
restlessly below, bound up in their green enclosure.
    By the end of the meal the accumulated effects of the martinis and the
Reisling at the table were clearly having an effect on me and most certainly
on my dinner companion.
    Kim's eyes were rimmed with red. Quietly she wiped away a bit of moisture
that might have been a tear.
    "Something? I queried.
    "No. Nothing. Oh, crap. I'm sorry, Jim. I'm just... I'm such a mess. I
can't do a damn thing for myself. Who do I think I'm kidding? Look at me. Just
look. Did you ever see anything so ridiculous? I 'm practically starving over
here because I can't even make a decent meal...Hell, I can barely feed myself.
Independent, eh?
I'm about as self reliant as a ...as a ..as a  oh, I don't know what. Like a
newborn baby with grotesque big boobs."
    Her body shuddered and she was quiet for a while.
    "I'm sorry for coming apart at the seams like this," she said after a bit,
"When you've been so nice and everything. I don't usually drink so much. I'm
sorry."
    I came around to her side of the table.  Holding her beautiful long hair a
little to one side, I kissed her gently on the nape of the neck. She leaned
back and looked up at me.
    "Oh my," she said softly. "Oh me oh my." She continued looking up at me.
    "That gave me the shivers," she said. "Very nice shivers."
    "Would you like..."
    "Sshhh," she whispered. "Can you carry me into my bedroom?"

    Moments later Kim Morrison lay comfortably on the satin sheets of her
canopy bed. The green top was away, now and her two huge breasts were finally
enjoying their freedom. Her trim, clean body glowed in the moonlight now
falling gently through the bedroom window She reached up to me with her little
nubs. 
    "Can you give the shivers again, please?" she asked, quietly. "I would
like that very much." 
    I began to lean over.
    "I'd like it better with your shirt off." she said softly. "I want to feel
your chest against mine. See, look. Letitia and Bernice are all excited. They
want to feel your chest too."
    The cerise tips of her two immense breasts were fully erect and hard,
reaching up to me with far more determination than her nearly useless arm
stubs. Below, her unprotected and clean shaven lips began to part slightly,
almost as if asking for a kiss.
    "And your trousers, too, please. Miss Virginia wants to meet more of you
too."
    "Miss Virginia?"
    "Yes. She's not as big as her two sisters, but she has a delightful
personality all her own."
    I made myself ready and settled onto the satin sheets. At short notice,
all I could think of was 'Peter the Great' for a comparable name.
    "Ooohhh, that's so nice. Virginia loves to kiss," she said. "Yesss,
s'more...she likes that a whole lot!" Kim trembled and relaxed again. "Yummy,"
she said. "But you mustn't ignore Letitia and Bernice. They can be very
jealous, you know."
    I slid up beside Kim and began nuzzling her two huge breasts, first
Letitia, then Bernice. Or was it the other way around? I've forgotten. In any
case their nipples grew even more hard and erect and Kim started to writhe
gently on the sheets, making little sounds deep in her throat.
    "Virginia's getting hungry now," she said "Miss Virginia's getting very,
verrry hungry."
    With only this encouragement, I introduced Peter the Great. Peter, in full
command of his powers, took great pleasure in satisfying Miss Virginia's deep,
intense hunger.

    I must congratulate Peter. His staying power and ability to recover were
nothing short of remarkable. Toward morning, with Virginia thoroughly
satisfied and both Letitia and Bernice in repose, Kim slept soundly with a
quiet smile on her beautiful face. By noon, fully rested, we rubbed our eyes
and looked out over the city.
    "You don't have a problem with...with my disability, do you?" she asked
after awhile. " I mean...some guys just can't handle it. You actually seem to
almost...well I don't know..almost as if it were a good thing...does that make
any sense at all?"
    "It does," I admitted. "I can't explain it, either, but somehow you're
more attractive to me than, say another woman with more conventional
proportions. It's true."
    She turned around on the bed. Just watching the effort it took her to
change position, to sit up for example, aroused me. She noticed the reaction.
    "Peter the Great certainly doesn't hide his feelings, does he?" She
chuckled. "Oh that was so good last night. Jim?"
    "Hmm?"
    "You want to play...sort of a little game?"
    "Game?"
    "Yes...I always wanted to tease a guy  real crazy, just to see what he'd
do..."
    "You want to tease...Why me?"
    "Because you react so wonderfully to my stupid little arms and big floppy
boobies."
    "True, true."
    "So, OK," she said, "We'll pretend you're a guy who wakes up in bed with
this hooker who hasn't any arms or legs and great giant tits, OK? and I'll
bounce all around, and I'll bet you don't last for more than twenty minutes
before we're back in bed again, OK?"
    "So I get to pretend I'm some every-day clown who got half blasted and
wakes up with a hooker? and can I play along with your game?"
    "Sure'" she said with a sly smile, "That's fair."
    "Twenty minutes, right? And if I win, I get to watch you make breakfast
for us both, OK?"
    "Whew. Tough bet. Do I have to get dressed?"
    "Not unless you want to," I said.
    "No way," she chortled, "OK, let's play!"
    "OK, Miss Lady of the Evening, that stage is all yours!"

    "It is so hard, Jim, so very hard...you don't know what it is like, you
can't imagine.  Every small ordinary thing is a production to me, these
useless little stumps almost no good for anything!  See!  See how hard it is
to put my sweater on!"  And she began to struggle back into the long, jade
sweater.  

    She began to roll and heave back on the bed, finally getting her little
stumps in the sleeve holes.  She continued to struggle.

    "God, Jim, these huge breasts of mine." She was struggling across the bed
and into her clothes, swinging her outrageous breasts out of the way. 
"Sometimes it takes me an hour to get my t-shirt down over these giant glands.
 Every time I try to brush my hair or even eat...they sag and swing across me
and get in my way.  Oh, Jim, if you only know how very hard it is."     

    I moved closer to the door, my eyes never leaving her limbless figure.  I
opened the door to her apartment and stepped backwards out into the hall.  

    "Jim...you know this is hard!  To get off this bed!  I can't run after
you, though I want to!" She wriggled frantically to the edge of the bed and
tried to use her short stumps to lower herself down.  She kept glancing back
at me, her eyes bright with our erotic little game...yet frustrated with her
inability to move her tits out of the way, get her hair out of her eyes
easily.
    
    "Please don't go so quickly!  I can't move like you...see, watch me...my
little stumps won't even touch the ground..I'll fall!"

    I gave in, but only long enough to stride across the room towards her.  I
scooped her up in my arms, my hands sliding up under the silky, jade shirt. 
She pressed her huge, soft breasts against my chest.  Her arm stump rubbed my
forearm.  "Ohhhh...." she sighed into me ear...."Oh, Jim...to be in your
arms...to have you help me...."    

    Her sighs turned to a squeak of surprise as I set her down ass-plop into
the middle of the long corridor.      

    I walked slowly backward down the hallway toward my own apartment. 
Step-by-step. I was very aware of my feet, their placement on the carpet as I
moved backwards. It was barely after dawn on a Sunday morning, and I knew it
was doubtful that any of the neighbors were up.

    Kim struggled on her ass down the corridor.

    "See, Jim...I have to keep my balance...it is really hard sometimes...so I
have to hang my arm stumps out sideways like this." My eyes were drawn to her
small stumps waving lightly side-to-side.

    Kim began to move her ass-cheeks side to side, and rock slowly up the
hall.  Her thigh stumps made little walking movements.  

"These damn tits!" she growled. "Always in my way...pulling and shaking and
saggy, every time I move!  I'm so small and petite all over...and then these
monsters swinging every time I make a damn move!! It is so hard, Jim!  And
when I sit at a table...sometimes my tits end up right on the table, spreading
out like huge mounds of pillow...they push my coffee away, my plate...and I
have to wiggle around to get them off the table so I can even eat!"  As she
said this she gave her tits a shake from side to side...they moved like a huge
wave under the jade shirt.

    Peter the Great was fully at attention, ready to take on the challenge.
Fortunately the door to my apartment was just behind me. Damn. The keys were
in my pants pocket back in Kims place. As I started back past her, she reached
out with one tiny arm stub and smacked bold Peter as I passed by.
    The effort caused her to lose her balance and left her rolling in laughter
on the carpeted hallway floor. "Gotcha, wise guy!" she laughed.
    "Not yet, fair Lady of the Evening," I said...gotta get my keys."
    "Oh, Jim," she returned to her role, still laughing, "here I am helpless
on the floor...these horrible breasts of mine are so heavy I can't get up...Oh
help me please!"
    "Be right back."
    A moment later I had my keys and pushed open  my apartment door. Kim was
still rolling back and forth in the hallway, both laughing and crying out in
mock agony."
    "Oh, Peter..I mean Jim...whoever you are, can't you see how helpless I
am...won't you please come and help me...OOoooh I need to feel you in my
arms," and she giggled some more, waving her tiny little arms, and thrusting
her naked bottom into the air.
    I stepped back to her. "Ok, sweetheart," I said in my best Bogart, "I'll
give ya a lift this once, but don't think you gotta handle on me!"
    "You do have a real nice handle, there, sport," she laughed, "now that you
mention it! Bet it's ready for action, too!"
    Peter the Great was absolutely aching for action, but I needed to get Kim
out of the hall.
    "The action's ready an' waitin', sweetheart," I continued, but if you want
to get it on, you gotta come and get it!" and I stepped inside my apartment.
Any minute somebody was going to peek out into the hall and I didn't want to
lose the game by default.
    Kim rocked herself over to the wall and with some effort used its support
to get up on her bottom. With the giant Letitia and huge Bernice flailing
violently back and forth before her, she swiveled her way toward my apartment
door. 
    "Hurry up, there, Sweet heart," said in my Bogart mimic, "time's running
out!"
    "Fuck you!" she laughed, and plodded diligently to the door.
    "All in due time," I chuckled, "All in due time."
    She swung and swayed her way into the sanctum of my apartment. Beads of
perspiration moistened her brow. Still, there was a glint of mischief in those
blue-green eyes. With an incredible effort, she arched her back and lunged at
me, catching me off balance and I toppled onto the entryway floor. In an
instant she was on me, those two giant breasts across my legs like sandbags,
holding me in place. 
    "Gotcha this time, smarty pants," she giggled," and proceeded to nuzzle
and kiss poor, throbbing Peter the Great.
    "Where's the clock?" she asked, in the midst of her caresses. I pointed to
a far wall, gritting my teeth to maintain my composure.
    "Damn!"
    "What?" I asked, barely able to speak.
    "You win. You're good, y'know?"
    "You mean..."
    "Twenty-two minutes. Hey, can we take off the three minutes it took you
get your keys?" she feigned mock seriousness.
    "Maybe...or we could adjourn to my bedroom and continue in more
comfortable surroundings!"
    "Deal. Let's do that," she said, that big warm smile returning.

    So that's the way our relationship began. Breakfast, later, was something
of an adventure. You should really watch Kim, in all of her naked
magnificence, scramble eggs and turn sizzling strips of bacon. 
    
    Come by, sometime. I'm sure you'd like to meet her.

Alicia

 ALICIA

By Ed

Adultery was unthinkable!  I was certain of that - until my wife's best
friend, Alicia, exposed my flawed character and humbled me into dust.  Judy,
my wife, and I had known Alicia more than fifteen years before she hired me
as a consultant for her statistical research firm.  Her husband had left her
for a younger woman, a secretary in his office, several years before I
stumbled.

A year before her divorce, Alicia had rented a remote vacation cabin with
her teen-age son and daughter to seek refuge from domestic strife as far
from civilization as she could get.  They planned to spend the summer
together hiking through Vermont's Green Mountains and then to enjoy the
remainder of their vacation from the cabin's home base.  Alicia had hoped a
summer-long separation from her husband might give him time to come to his
senses and to reaffirm his marriage commitment.

On their first hiking foray, Alicia impaled her leg on a rusty spike
protruding some six inches out of a broken fence post.  Swabbing and dousing
the deep puncture wound with an antiseptic and pulling away embedded animal
hairs driven into her leg by the corroded point, she trusted in the efficacy
of her tetanus booster shot and then neglected a developing abscess for
three weeks, all the way up to the Canadian end of the Long Trail and back
again to their cabin.

She stayed with her children, not wanting to cut short their vacation, even
after she became ill with fever from the livid injury below her throbbing
knee.  Discoloration and swelling expanded upward, distressing her enough to
ask her son to drive to a phone to consult a doctor.  He tried, but could
only reach answering services that informed him, "The doctor is unavailable.
Please leave your phone number with a message, and the doctor will return
your call."  Of course he couldn't, because the phone was in a general store
several miles down a logging road from their isolated cabin.

Assessing alternatives, he attempted to phone his father and then called his
mother's sister, a nurse, whom he was sure could recommend an appropriate
treatment for his mother's painful scratch.  His aunt suggested aspirin and
an extended soaking of the wound in a hot Ringer's solution, not realizing
how long the infection had incubated nor how deeply it had penetrated.  He
didn't sound particularly concerned about his mother's minor wound, so she
told him if Alicia didn't feel better and couldn't find a doctor by the
weekend, she'd make the long drive up from Manhattan and come visit.

Alicia was a person who always minimized her own discomfort, convinced that
nature if given a chance, would eventually heal most ills.  Hospitals for
her were places to fear, places where one was as likely to catch a fatal
disease as to obtain a cure.

Five days after that first attempt to seek professional medical advice and
subsequent failures each day thereafter, her fever rose to 106.  She
realized from her pain and from the angry discoloration creeping up her leg
that the infection had spread into her knee.  Her now alarmed son insisted
he drive her to the emergency room of the nearest hospital, some thirty
miles away, where she arrived incoherent in delirium.  Unable to reach his
father, he made the decision to give immediate permission for a surgeon to
amputate his mother's right leg to save her life.

Waking, but still groggy from anesthesia, Alicia felt for her swollen knee,
praying to find her body intact.  She'd known even before she first asked to
consult a doctor that she'd neglected the infection far too long.  Her son
held his mother's hand and wiped tears from her face as they listened to the
soothing voice of the recovery room nurse.  She told them that his mother
was fortunate her surgeon had been able to save eight inches of her thigh,
an ideal length for a prosthesis.  He had given her the "fanciest amputation
in the book" by folding a flap of muscle tissue and skin over her severed
femur.  A resident plastic surgeon had scrubbed in for observation, and the
primary surgeon asked him to close the wound with almost invisible stitches
from behind to give her stump a smooth and seamless padded cushion so she
could put all her weight on it and wear an artificial leg in comfort.

Before beginning her vacation, Alicia had asked my wife and me to keep her
small business on hold, and answer her mail.  Judy and I made the five-hour
drive to Vermont to comfort her and to reassure her about her office,
expecting to find her disconsolate and withdrawn.  When we arrived, she was
already up and out of her room in a wheelchair visiting another patient.
She reacted with tears of her own to Judy's sorrow and to our compassion and
distress over her misfortune, but grateful to be alive, she soon distracted
herself and began to thrash out a new research project that she herself
proposed.  Discharged after five days with orders to return for treatment,
therapy, counseling, and checkups, she departed in a wheelchair with Judy
and me to her cabin.

Alicia had been in excellent physical condition before her surgery and
assured us she could recover as well in the country as at home in the city
while continuing to share the remainder of the summer with her distraught
children.  All our attempts to reach her husband still resulted only in
message accumulations on his answering machine.  As she completed her
medications and regained her strength, she occupied herself by training to
exhaustion, stretching her torso for flexibility, exercising with free
weights, and walking with one crutch as well as two, learning to support her
reduced weight on her hands instead of on the crutch pads under her
shoulders.  She saw no reason to abort her children's long anticipated
vacation, and no reason to confront her husband or return to her work until
she'd learned to live with and to accept her shattering loss.

By the end of the summer, she'd again learned to walk on her hands as she'd
done as a girl and even to do vertical push-ups from a handstand, a feat
she'd never before been able to accomplish, but now could, enabled by her
thirty pound weight loss.  She moved with confidence on one crutch nearly as
fast as her children could walk.  With two crutches, using a step-through
gait, her kids had to jog to keep up.  Both her hands developed calluses on
the outer edges of her palms where she grasped the handles, and her dresses
and shirts wore thin where the crutch pads rubbed under her arms.  The
muscles in her arms and upper body filled out, triggering her remark that it
would be easier on her wardrobe if she continued to hop about on one leg,
especially if she could go halves with a left leg amputee who wore the same
shoe size.

Weeks after all tenderness and swelling in her bound stump had abated and
stabilized, her prosthetist made a plaster cast of her thigh.  She
impatiently awaited his fabrication of her artificial leg, bewildered
meanwhile by her husband's ill treatment.  Alicia couldn't understand his
antagonism or how a person who had once loved her could now be so cruel, so
thoughtless, so uncaring.  Embarrassed by her appearance, he refused to
accompany her anywhere, and when asked, even denied to a client that she was
his wife.  Confronted, he attacked, telling her, "I won't have a one legged
freak for my wife!"  He escalated fights, using Alicia's leg as an excuse to
shun her even when they were alone together at home.  Without her knee, no
artificial limb could ever enable her to walk again with elegance; crutches
for her were easier, faster, and far more graceful.  Alicia suspected her
husband's persecution was due more to his wanderlust than to his revulsion
at the sight of her imperfect gait or to her impaired body, although his
antipathy was evident whenever he stared at the pinned up flap on her jeans
or gazed at the disconcerting emptiness below her skirts.

His evasions and cessation of intimate contact were unremitting, so in her
distress she determined to do everything in her power to recapture his
attentions, to force him to acknowledge her worth, and to make him show at
least minimal courtesy toward his still beautiful wife.  Doubting by now
that her prosthesis could ever alter his attitude, she'd parade her
mutilation before him; she'd flaunt the actuality of her amputation so he
could not possibly continue to ignore it or deny her.  She created occasions
to confront him in the presence of others, especially at his office.
Dressed in a short skirt to display her single shapely leg, she wore
pantyhose with the right leg cut off and sewn closed to a snug fit against
the end of her stump, so he could get occasional glimpses whenever she
deliberately exposed it as she moved or sat.  His secretary turned beet red
when Alicia commiserated with her about the rings under such young eyes,
asking if she slept well.

Alicia knew that her immodest public displays were atypical, not at all like
the behavior of other amputees she'd met, all of whom took pains to appear
as ordinary as possible.  She would never have evolved into such an
aggressive exhibitionist had her husband been supportive.  He must have
known that his antagonism motivated her displays, because he stopped all but
necessary communications with her.

Her prosthetist, admiring Alicia's assertiveness, introduced her to another
young amputee, introverted and withdrawn, whom he hoped Alicia, with her
uninhibited personality, could encourage.  Unlike her unhappy friend, who
was embarrassed by her amputation and sequestered herself, Alicia's
unhappiness focused on her husband's defects, not her own.  Excursions
together enabled her new friend to develop composure with others' inevitable
curiosity, and Alicia in turn experimented with her, assessing different
ways to dress becomingly.  While evaluating their appearance in jeans, she
discovered that they both looked better, and the empty pants legs were
easier to manage, if they turned them inside out and rolled the empty
sleeves up from the inside rather than pinning or folding and tucking them
under their belts.

Yet, no matter how she dressed or what she did, Alicia recognized that
camouflage wouldn't deter her husband's passive aggression.  She had
experienced his rejection even before her accident and realized that her
long awaited prosthesis was of no avail, even though it enabled her to
appear with him in public unremarked, indistinguishable from her former
self.  By wearing her prosthesis she could avoid attention whenever she
wished, yet she rarely used it as she determined to continue her defiant and
unequivocal confrontations with her husband so long as he remained
intractable.

Accused of being an exhibitionist, she'd show him a real one!  Unable to
please him either with crutches or by wearing her unobtrusive new
prosthesis, she persuaded her prosthetist, against his advice, to fabricate
a hollow Duralumin peg leg for her and to finish it with a glossy black
enameled shaft.  He asked if she wouldn't prefer a bone finish so she could
go to masquerade balls disguised as Captain Ahab!  She replied that since
she'd removed her wedding ring, she thought the sight of an attractive
unattached woman with a peg leg would compel men's fascinated attention,
attention she candidly sought in response to her husband's rejection; it
would also free her hands, and by its shock-value might goad her estranged
spouse into terminating his verbal abuse.  If not, she'd at least have a bit
of revenge and experience some satisfaction, by displaying her piratical
appearance, of seeing him embarrassed among their friends and his clients!

Deciding at first to experiment with the peg only at home, she found she was
able to stand and rest on it almost as if she were sitting on a stool.
Because it was all but indestructible, easy to use, comfortable, and light,
she overcame her original reticence at appearing with it in public.  She
fantasized that when she wore it to work, as opposed to feeling inhibited,
she would thrill with everyone's fascination.  It excited her to imagine the
head-turning reactions of her surprised and curious associates who would
marvel at her overt display.  She learned to prefer either the crutches or
the peg to her cosmetic leg as she recognized and welcomed strangers'
frequent flirting ploys to meet her.  They wore watches but asked her the
time or carried briefcases and asked directions, all the while attempting to
start trivial conversations, unable to tear their eyes away from her peg or
the empty space of her missing limb.  Some brazen few, with whom she
flirted, even apologized and requested permission to photograph her.

Her first prosthesis never attracted the erotic notice she deliberately
instigated.  As a present to herself, asking Judy and me if we didn't also
think as she did, that her thin Duralumin crutches were more flattering and
less conspicuous than either her plain crutches or her eye-catching peg, she
purchased half a dozen new crutch pairs with different enameled colors.  Her
favorites were a tossup between a polished white pair and a black pair, both
of which she used with a high-heeled shoe.  She wore the various crutch
combinations as if they were matching ornaments, taking pains to color
coordinate them with her clothes, accentuating the shapely silhouette of her
slim body.  Responding to our appreciation of her svelte facade and her
fluid movements, she posed for us on one crutch as an exotic dancer, miming
with it as if it were her compliant partner.  Asking if we realized how well
she could dance, she demonstrated it by wedging her stump between the crutch
uprights and resting on the crossbar handle.  She embraced the crutch,
balancing and pirouetting alternately on it and on her foot.  She performed
a similar intimate dance with Judy by supporting her light weight with her
stump held tightly against Judy's hip, holding Judy close with pressure from
her stump and her arms as if they'd practiced together for years.

Her agility, playfulness, and confident outings gave her gratification from
displaying her flexible body and demonstrating her athletic skill, thus
reinforcing her self-assurance and ameliorating the pain of her ex-husband's
abuse.  Ever since her intensive body building exercises in the Vermont
cabin, she'd improved her ability to maneuver with either one or two of her
crutches.  She flowed along with the speed and poise of a gymnast on her
high-heeled shoe, much more gracefully than when she tried to hurry on her
prosthesis or hiked about on uneven ground or at home with her more
comfortable featherweight peg.  She strolled with a single crutch by
overbalancing her center of mass over its tip, much as a pencil balances on
its point, positioning the crutch against her thigh as she walked.  Like the
falling pencil, her momentum would carry her forward as she shifted her
equilibrium through each stride, holding the crutch firmly against her stump
while her ankle skimmed the shaft, assuring that the crutch's tip supported
her body by falling as if on a plumb line beneath her point of balance.  Her
foot and her crutch alternately traced the precise line of her chosen
course.  I loved to accompany her in order to share the many covert admirers
who observed the poetry of her movements.  We each took pleasure from
recognizing the other's gratification from strangers' surveillance.  Their
overtures cemented her conviction that her traumatic divorce had nothing to
do with her amputation; they proved to her that her exceptional body was
still breathtakingly glamorous not only to me, her intimate friend and
admirer, but also to the many who approached and sought her company.

Responsive to my obvious and constant state of arousal in her presence and
to the appreciation I displayed toward her ability to function so
efficiently, an appreciation radically different from her ex-husband's
unfeeling rejection, she avoided using her cosmetic prosthesis whenever I
was with her.  We both recognized my inordinate fascination with the hiatus
of her amputation.  She sought my companionship even as I sought hers.
Alicia knew that I admired her, enjoyed being her protective escort, and
that I found her altered body more alluring than any woman's normal body
could ever be, especially when she wore one of her tight sheath dresses and
balanced so skillfully with a single crutch or hiked about on that bizarre
black peg she displayed so provocatively.  I delighted in the company of a
stunning, uninhibited, unique woman, pleased to share the attention she
received, so without consciously intending it or admitting it, I revealed my
obsessive physical attraction toward her beautiful but different body
whenever we were together.

Judy observed me, aroused and infatuated, watching Alicia's movements, and
gave me an incisive warning.  "She arouses you so much you want to jump in
bed with me for physical relief every time you see her!  Alicia sublimates
her loss by being confrontational!  She's looking for acceptance.  Her
handicap isn't something she can turn off whenever it's convenient!  I feel
for her; your overcooked admiration blinds you.  She's endured her husband's
abandonment and wants to be desired, but deep down she knows most men reject
her.  She's vulnerable to predators!  Be careful!  If you hurt her, I'm
going to feed you rat poison!"

Months after I'd dismissed and forgotten Judy's admonition, Alicia and I
were in her study testing computer algorithms.  We took an unusually long
time to complete our work, because she had gone into her bedroom to dress
comfortably and reappeared in a mesh low-cut blouse with nothing underneath
except her unconfined breasts pushing erect nipples outward against their
revealing wrap.  Every time she leaned forward to view the monitor, she'd
press against me, squeezing my arm in her open cleavage as she flexed her
shoulders.  When we put the computer on standby, she shifted her seat, faced
me sideways, and allowed her short skirt to rise above her stump, turning to
press its exposed end below my belt as if by accident.  Her forearms rested
on my shoulder.  She leaned her head against mine, gently brushed my cheek
with her fingers, and spoke intimately to me of her frustrations, a
seductive invitation in her voice.  Restricting as her handicap was, she
affirmed what I already knew, that she rarely became angry or impatient with
the nuisance of her physical limits, and reveled in the erotic attention
given her; even in her secret dreams she was always an amputee.

She agreed with me that over the past two years she'd adjusted to her
divorce and to the prying questions and attentions drawn from acquaintances
by her accident.  She had never thought that her handicap made her
unapproachable.  On the contrary, she had learned to take unforeseen
pleasure in displaying her physical difference to men who were stimulated by
it, especially to me, enabled perhaps from combating her ex-husband's
rejection.  Yet, when she indulged herself with private imaginings, as she
was now doing, she wanted physical contact with an understanding partner.
She longed to assuage her frustrated passions with intimacies she no longer
enjoyed; she missed the touch and grip of her thighs against her lover.  She
knew from my responses that I desired her!  With a deep sigh, she pulled one
of my hands to her breast while moving my other hand over the end of her
stump.

Could I have then left?

Denying to myself how much I wanted her also, I attempted to distract us
both by calling attention to her peg, the first time I'd ever seen it
separated from her body, propped upright in a corner beside her many
crutches in their open wall cabinet.  In answer to my flustered question at
how she fastened it and why it didn't fall off without straps, she placed
both my hands on her stump, and asked me to stroke and massage it by pushing
against her thrusting resistance as she pressed between my legs.  She flexed
her remaining thigh muscles, working against my strokes, pushing in turn
against my hands, lifting her short stump up against me.  She then had me
rub lotion into it and draw a fitted cotton sock over its smooth raised end
before she hopped across the room to retrieve the peg.  She gave an
expressive look at my tense posture, a teasing and perceptive smile at my
deep inhalations.  She slowly dropped her skirt, inserted her stump into the
peg's molded socket, and explained how a vacuum formed to hold the peg in
place while she walked about the room to demonstrate various steps as she
drew her blouse over her head and dropped it beside her skirt onto the
floor.  Hooking her thumbs into her panties, she tugged them off, balanced
on her peg, and lifted her foot.  Wearing nothing but her peg, she walked
slowly toward me until our knees touched.  She placed my hand on the peg's
socket between my legs, and showed me how to release the vacuum so the peg
dropped at my feet.

Moistening her lips, she leaned her body into mine and kissed me.  She
pulled up against my chest and buried my face between her breasts as she
separated my legs by wedging them apart with her stump, worked at the zipper
of my pants, and groped inside with her right hand.  She breathed into my
ear and whispered, "This is the attention I've craved; take me!"  As I
attempted to draw away, she slid herself down onto her knee to replace her
right hand with her open mouth!

"Stop!  Alicia!  Enough!  Please!  We can't do this!"

"I'm going to pleasure you in ways you've never imagined!"

>From God knows where I finally gained the strength to push off from the
couch and stood, easily lifting her light nude body, but continued to
embrace her to prevent her from falling while she maintained her stump's
pressure against my aching groin.

I held her close; I couldn't compel myself either to release her or to push
away as she kissed me again, open mouthed, parting my lips with her tongue,
thrusting deeply into my mouth.  I could feel her warm lubricating fluids on
my exposed skin as she slid her pelvis against me.  Her responses to my
arousal at her stump's erotic caresses as she continued to thrust and lift
it between my legs had driven all reason from my mind.  She said, "I revel
in the feel of your hard body against me!  Like yours, my body too has
needs!  Some nights I've slept with a pillow between my thighs . . . driving
and sliding against it like this, pretending it's you.  How could I have
resisted you for so long a time?  -  The way you looked at me - the way you
undressed me with your eyes.  I adore your tender touch, your gentle kiss.
For months I resisted your invitations, debating whether to accept your
offers, because I knew you wanted me as much as I desired you!  Do what both
of us need!  Take me!  Enter me!"

I drew away from her probing thigh, stroked back her long dark curls, held
her face between my hands, and gently kissed her forehead;  "Alicia, my
Circe, I can hardly breathe!  Your Siren Song is more intoxicating than
drugs!  Lust has conquered us both!  Even now, this late, both of us have to
see why we can't fulfill our desires!  We'd betray everyone!  I do crave
you; we crave each other!  But I couldn't face myself if we don't stop now!
We've already gone too far!  If we ever marry, how could you trust me if we
deceive Judy?  Wouldn't you wonder if I'd deceive you too?  You want us to
do to Judy what your husband did to you.  Can we?  Can't we love one another
and be friends like we've always been - you, me, Judy, all of us together?"

Hardly able to stand upright myself, I pushed away and stepped back, leaving
her tottering.  Alicia looked at me in disbelief, breathing hard, her face
flushed with passion and incredulity, swaying precariously as she fought to
maintain her balance.  After a full minute of silence, naked, with her firm
breasts erect, she hopped to the front door, opened it and assailed me
saying, "You inconceivably boorish oaf!  Get out!  Now!  Go home to your
frigid wife!  I understand only now how she tolerates your impotence!"

I must have been far more physically uncomfortable than she, bent over,
aching from the mindless pressure of unfulfilled desire as I walked to my
car.

Next month when our Visa bill came, Judy asked me, "What's with this $54
charge for flowers?"

Too embarrassed to explain, I said, "Both of us hate the artificial flowers
in church.  Maybe a gift of real flowers will give our pastor a shove."
While I never said I sent flowers to the church, I thought my Jesuitical
prevarication better than unambiguous truth.

Judy gave me a musing smile.  "For a moment there, I was considering rat
poison."

Over the next few months, Alicia and Judy talked on the phone and got
together as had been their custom.  They visited, shopped, used their season
tickets for concerts and theater performances at the Brooklyn Academy of
Music, and accepted a supper invitation extended to all of us from her
sister in Manhattan.  I always managed to devise a plausible excuse not to
accompany them.

One Saturday morning before Christmas I was sitting at a table in a
Starbucks, facing the door, enjoying a cup of coffee with my oldest son home
from college when I saw Alicia enter with her coat wrapped over and
partially concealing a single thin enameled white crutch underneath.  She
grasped its handle through a slit in her coat pocket, appearing to me as an
Olympic pole-vaulter arcing the vertical center line of her slim body over
the tip of her crutch, moving past the entrance into the shop on her elegant
high-heeled shoe, looking beyond me as if I were invisible.  She ordered
coffee, brought it to a table nearby and sat with her back to us.  When my
son spotted her, he rose, greeted and embraced her, and asked if we might
join her at her table.  I suspected the flush rising in her beautiful face
was not entirely due to the cold as she talked with my son about his studies
and pretended I didn't exist.

As she rose to leave, I said, "Alicia, can you forgive my neglect?  We've
been avoiding one another.  Would it be all right if Judy and I come by
tomorrow?  I want to at least partially expiate my ill-treatment with dinner
at a good restaurant, wherever you'd like; else, I'll choose."

My son could have had no idea why my voice sounded so apologetic, no idea
why her face was set so deadpan, and no idea why she hesitated so long
before she replied.  Finally, she relaxed, sat down again, propped her
pretty white crutch against my chair, leaned forward, and looked at my son.
"Would you mind bringing me a coffee refill?"

As he moved out of earshot, Alicia said to me, "You can't begin to
understand how angry I am!  I felt like a stupid fool!  God deliver me from
sanctimonious hypocrites!  You flirted with me for months, enticing me.  You
conned me with snake oil.  You seduced me!  When I succumbed to your
insistent sexual offerings, you rejected me as if I were a soliciting whore
at the very moment your every gesture was pleading for me to open my body
and give you my very being!  You even had the gall to sermonize like some
fundamentalist preacher!  Even now you sit there unable to see the sin
inside yourself you impute to me!  Only because our friendship has been so
longstanding do I hesitate, here and now, to murder you where you sit!  -But
old friends are too valuable to throw away, even when deceived, so we might
again be business associates, you and I; maybe even friends.  But for now,
in your own head, you're immaculate!  You whitewashed wall!  I look at you
and can hardly refrain from spitting in your face!  --
-- You have to be the most considerate and thoughtful gentleman I've ever
been privileged to meet!"

My son returned with the coffee in time to overhear Alicia's last remark.
She looked past him and further skewered me with, "I'm too preoccupied now
even to consider your invitation.  If she'd like, you can ask Judy to call
me so she and I might have lunch soon."

Rising, she kissed my son, turned away, tucked her slender crutch beneath
her coat and left the shop with everyone's eyes fixed on her back as we
watched her graceful ballet across the floor and out the door.

My son asked, "What in the world was all that about?"

I sat and took a long slow swallow of Alicia's abandoned coffee before
answering.

"She was preaching to the choir; she had no clue I already agreed with
everything she could say."

Look at Us Now

 Olga

I hung up the phone and proceeded to jump and run around like an idiot.
Our project was a success!! The field officer in charge of the testing told me
our final upgrades to the guidance system had fixed all the problems with the
XRmz-126 model. He instructed me to show up for the next series of tests
commencing the next day. I got my coat on my way out the door. I liked to be
the first to give Yuri, my partner, good news. He was the best programmer I
had met so far working with the company and he new it. It was not unusual for
him to celebrate before the final results were in. I knew were Yuri was most
certainty. Yuri Sebolovich had been born in the Motherland some forty-two
years ago. He was the result of a one night stand between a secretary and an
army captain. He never met his father but did not miss him that much either.
Yuri's philosophy was very simple, do what ever makes you happy until you drop
dead. He did not even have a bank account and usually spent his large
paychecks faster than what it takes to down a shot of vodka. I drove 23 miles
into town and headed for downtown. I went around the block a few times and
finally found a suitable parking space for my Chevy Suburban. I came here
often if only looking for Yuri.  Contrary to Yuri's lifestyle, I always tried
to do the "right thing". I had no vices and for the most part ran away from
temptation. Save the occasional get together with the guys at the lab I never
went out. That said, it should not surprise you my lack of knowledge about
relating to the opposite sex. I had been ten times more active during high
school and college than now! I could not help the fact my taste was very
particular and the right woman had not shown up yet. But the events taking
place that night will change all that in a very drastic way.
     I almost ran, I was so damned exited, but somehow I covered the distance
to the club at a brisk pace. From the outside it looked like nothing was going
on, another building in the quiet neighborhood. No noises or lights denoting
the orgy taking place inside. Yuri spent a lot of time here, not to mention
his "green", indulging in every conceivable pleasure. He liked this place
because 90% of the people coming to these parties were Russian or Russian
descendent. The guy at the door smiled and let me in. They knew me since every
other day I was there searching for Yuri, and Yuri was very popular off
course. Almost instantly I ran into Madame Boronets. She owned the place, me
and her engaged in very interesting conversations. She was surprisingly well
versed on a wide variety of subjects and she was very intelligent. She hung to
my arm without ceremony while holding a very aromatic cigarette on the other
hand. The place was packed and the noise beyond description. --Your friend is
really frisky tonight... Lots of energy, he disappear a couple of hours ago
with the Kutuzhovk sisters. These girls make an interesting pair... I truly
missed your conversation last week dear. Not many intelligent men such as
yourself come into this house and those who do are not here to chat with me.
Do you care for a cup of tea little one?-- --Thanks, but I must decline, I am
in a hurry...-- --Ough? Where is the fire friend?-- --I have a very important
message for Yuri, it can't wait... We must depart as soon as possible for the
testing grounds-- --So, another big project is about to end. Alright dear, but
I want no part of his screaming! Lets see... He is having his private little
party in suit 28. Yes!-- She smiled, pleased with her ability of keeping track
of things. I bent and kissed her in the forehead and thanked her --I am sure
he will come back, we will talk then-- --Yes dear... Good luck, you two!-- I
turned around and ran upstairs. I complimented the ladies walking around as I
moved pass them but was ignored, as usually.
    The door was not locked but I knocked and announced myself as always. Yuri
loved to shock people and I hated to give him any opportunities. --Come in
Chuck!-- I entered the room very quietly and closed the door behind me. I took
a good look around and my speech was gone along with the good news about the
project. Yuri was laying on a bed, there where two girls working on him. The
Kutuzhovk sisters were big, full figured women with perfect pear shaped
bodies. Even though they were not facing me I could tell both had very well
developed bosoms. One of the girls was smothering my friend's face under her
heavy knockers. Yuri had a firm grasp on the large, rounded cheeks of her
bottom. His hands squeezed frantically the generous masses of flesh. The other
girl was giving head, kneeling... But where the hell were the lower parts of
her legs?!... Right there and then Yuri came out of the clouds of flesh and
looked at me. He was going to say something but his orgasm took control over
him. He only managed to moan in pleasure. The girl on the floor moved back two
short stiff legged steps, I saw her tights lift clean off the floor... There
was nothing else underneath!! A legles woman?! I had seen this guy with two
women before, even three, but never anything like this. The knot in my stomach
grew. The voice in the back of my head kept telling me not to stare, to go and
wait outside but I was glued in place. All three were talking in Russian,
smiling and giggling occasionally. Yuri was really talking to the able body
girl, ignoring the other sister. All of the sudden I was very exasperated with
him. How could he ignored that poor chubby thing, a little more than 4 feet
tall, wobbling around by the end of the bed!!
    I could not understand the sudden rush, the stomach cramps, the anxiety...
Stop staring! You know how improper and impolite that is!... But my eyes would
not obey. I could not see anything except this girl on the floor. She bent a
little bit reached with her left arm and picked a piece of clothing from the
floor, it turned out to be a sweater. She started putting it on, while the
other two kissed, and then I saw something that made me feel worse. The
cramps, the knots, my body was going haywire... Her right arm went into the
thick sleeve but it only penetrated about 8 inches. Beyond that the sleeve
felt empty, pulling inwards as if to make it plainly obvious her arm was gone!
I could not believe my eyes!! This is outrageous!! Making that poor girl
humiliate herself like this... She is an amputee for God's sake!... So? She's
still a woman with a tremendously sexy body... --Hello!... Olga...-- Her left
hand, her only hand rather, was resting on her chess --Your name?-- --Cha...
Charles... or Chuck-- Hers was a heavy Russian accent --American! Love
America!-- She struggle for the words a little but was confident with the
outcome. She was the youngest one of the two and gorgeous. I looked on as she
fixed her short jet black hair. Oh! she was so beautiful, so beautiful... How
and why was she so badly mutilated?... One tight moved forward, coming down
forcefully, she almost lost her balance --You roll sleeve for Olga?-- Her
leftover of a right arm was pointing at me --Your friend... strong like bear,
I... I am... humm... tired-- She finished the thought with a big smile and I
dropped on my knees to her level.
    I rolled the sweaters sleeve until my fingers made a brief contact
against her fleshy stump. I pulled out as if an scorpion had bitten me --Roll
more!-- I tried to move the rolled sleeve closer to the end of her arm. I did
not want her stump to show, it was not proper for such things to be flaunted.
She brushed me aside and forced the sleeve past the end of her truncated right
arm. The pressure of the sleeve made the stump's end look like a grotesque
bubble, only allowing two inches through --Ooh! I can't! It's pain!-- The
sleeve was firmly stuck there and she could not pulled it up any further. I
forced the sleeve up and her stump brushed my fingers again. It felt warm,
soft, smooth like a baby's bottom but it looked like Doctor Frankestain's
handy work. Discolored patches of skin here and there contrasted with
pink-reddish ones. Her scars formed canyons. She noticed my stare and moved
uncomfortable --...It's pain...-- She said, proceeding to rubb the exposed
rounded end and hiding it inside her hand --You mean it hurts-- --Uuhh... Yes,
hurts!...Very-- Unconsciously I extended my hands towards the stump. She let
me massage the entire stump while she held on to my shoulder, smiling like a
child eating from an ice cream cone. She had such a lovely smile! I looked
down, her thighs were enclosed in cylinders made of leather, open in front
from where I could see all the way down. The openings were held shut by Velcro
straps. The leather buckets were attached to thick, round rubber disks, some
sort of shoes' soles. She was wearing a mini-skirt, all I had to do was  pull
the fabric up a few inches... --Olga, lets go!-- The other sister urged. Olga
gave me a sad puppy look and pulled her maimed arm out of my grasp --Thank
you-- She said and turned towards her sister grabbing her hand as a child
would, they left. She turned again for a second upon reaching the door letting
me catch a glance of her smile. Seeing her stiff leg walk, her swaging bulging
breasts, the sensual cadence of her hips and butt brought back the strange
sensation in my stomach... and then I noted my erection! What the hell is
going on with me...?!
    --You liked the sisters?... Ah! What am I saying!? I suppose you have
never been fucked by a woman and a half-- Yuri was sitting on the bed with his
pants on, buttoning up his shirt and laughing hard at his own joke. It was
typical of him to laugh at such things. --The little one sucked me dry... It's
a pity you can't look at her... She is a dammed freak alright... I had to tell
her not to touch me with that chopped off arm of hers! I wish she had kept her
sweater on so I would not have seen it... Such a repulsive thing!... And her
legs are gone too. Can you imagine them stumps trying to pull you in?-- and
luckily I could imagine such thing and therefore was not paying too much
attention. Still, his insensitive remarks where making my blood boil. I told
him the news from the testing grounds to end his bull shit. I could not bear
listening to him talking that way... Wait a minute! She is an easy girl just
like the others Yuri slept around with and yet my usual disdain for them did
not apply. My mind was splitting in two!... We went downstairs, the able body
sister came to say goodbye --Come back soon... And look me up-- --Yes Liuva,
I'll come back for you soon-- answered Yuri embracing her one more time and
slapping her disproportionately large behind. There was no sight of Olga, she
was lost in the crowd. I said goodbye to Madame Boronets from afar and then
Yuri and I left.
    I took Yuri back to the compound where we lived, near the lab buildings.
We packed our suitcases light since we estimated we will be out there for a
week the most. Then we picked up all the material from the lab pertaining the
project and got into the Suburban one more time. I drove on all night without
saying a word to Yuri who eventually felt asleep. I had left my mind behind,
in that little room in the club. I was ready to drop this project on anyone's
lap and turn 180 degrees. I had this incredible urge to hold Olga in my arms
and swept her off her feet... Ironic, but she had no feet. I am fantasizing
about half a woman! My mind is gone! ... And what guaranties are there that
she will come with me or that she fancies me even? I am crazy!! If this is not
lust at first site I don't know what is. I wanted her so bad my body ached.
The second round of tests was delayed because the prototypes had some flaws
due to the methods used in their construction. We ended up spending three and
a half weeks out there after which I was ready to decapitate a couple of
engineers with my bare hands. Finally, the models came true and the necessary
data was generated and sent to the engineers at the plant. We went back to the
compound.
    I drove back at a neck breaking speed, Yuri's knuckles were white, that's
how hard he was holding on to his seat. I took a shower and got ready in 20
minutes flat and drove into town. I stood at the door of the club with a
little trepidation... Ah! Just go in, darned! Madame Boronets welcomed me, she
was very curious about my presence there. She was even more surprised when I
asked for Olga --Which Olga dear? We have many Olgas running around...-- --The
one that has a sister... Aaaah... Liuva, that's her sister's name!--
--Hummm... Ah! Yes, I remember them now... But, little one, what can possible
interest you in that girl? If you are looking for someone special I am sure
there are many other girls that will accommodate your taste much better...--
--I just want to talk to her...-- --Hummm! Wait here, I saw them earlier, let
me check if they have not left. I will save you the trip through the dance
floor-- Madame Boronets disappear for a long while but came back with a smile.
--She remembers you, little devil! What is going on?... She is in that section
over there-- she said pointing to a far corner beyond the dancing floor
--Thank you...-- But I stood there looking in the direction she indicated,
with a glass of beer in my hands --Well dear, neither opportunity, nor chance
await for any one-- I went slowly through the crowd, remembering how it felt
the day I saw that girl in the wheelchair coming out of the theatre. She was
twice my age, her legs ended right below the knees. She notice me and smiled.
My mother kept pulling me away, I would have given anything up to see and
touch those short stumps. I felt the same urgency now.
    The dance floor was left behind, incredibly, not one drop of the beer had
dropped. I looked around and all of the sudden our eyes met. I found her
delicious smile underneath her bewitching eyes. Her lips moved --Come!-- her
voice sounded even more melodious than what I remembered it to be. I have no
idea how I could hear her above the ruckus. She was standing on the seat of
one of the very well concealed and cozy booths of that section. Her clothes
were thither on her than the first time. I could tell she had no bra, her
massive melons protruded underneath her sweater in a very provocative manner.
The right sleeve had been pulled up and a sizeable part of her stump was
showing. She caressed the stump's tip with her long fingers, alternating
between rubbing and squeezing. She had another mini-skirt on, about the same
size as the other one. It was not elastic and the pressure of her huge ass
pulled the material up in the back showing more of her boots. I could almost
see her butt. She had some sort of nylons of which I thought it was kinky.
There was a short cane resting on her hip. She gave me an apprehensive look
mixed with curiosity. I had no idea an amputee could be so sexy! The commotion
of her chest with every movement, the swing of her wide hips... --You wanted
to see me? What is up?-- --I just wanted to talk to you, get to know you
better... But now I do not know what to say-- She smiled, intrigued, but
somewhat pleased with my interest. We talked for a long time, I lost track of
time. She was very pleasant to talk to and more and more charming as the
evening progressed. She had very few inhibitions if any so... --Would you like
sex?-- The question was so direct and abrupt that took me very much by
surprise. Yes, that will be nice, I thought looking at her behemoth breasts
resting on the table, but could not bring my mouth to say it. She had called
my bluff so to speak. --You want my sister too, no?-- --No, no, just you--
--You not understand... I... Men do not want me because amputations...-- She
waved the stump of her arm slowly and finally rested it on her hand, pointing
it at my face --I have ugly body; I am no good without my sister. They said I
can satisfy no one... No one comes for me alone so I have not learn to make
men happy... I go now...--     She tried her best to put up her smile but her
lips trembled and a couple of big tears rolled down her face. She was so
ashamed of her condition and probably had been told so many times otherwise
that it was impossible for her to think someone may want her. I saw how she
jumped from the seat to the carpet, landing on her boots. Then she put all her
weight on her right leg stump, dogged the cane on the carpet and pointed
forward with her arm stump. Her left hip pulled up the respective stump and
then the stump move forward in a short step. She then shifted her weight onto
her left leg stump. As her arm stump came back down with force her right leg
stump and the cane came forward in another little step. This happened very
quickly the cycle repeated once more before she reached me. She was going for
the entrance behind me moving with such grace and that stiff leg walk!... I
came down to her level placing one hand on her belly and the other on her hip
which made her stop but not rise her eyes. I grabbed her chin gently --Don't
cry, I do not want to make you sad. Such beautiful eyes should never cry-- She
looked at me, waiting --I do not want you to go... I want you, just you. Since
I saw you for the first time I have done nothing but to think about you... I
think you are the most attractive woman in the world-- --You lie. You tell
Olga nice things because amputations... Mama did same in Russia...-- I grabbed
her arm stump and massaged it --See, I don't mind, I am looking forward to do
this every minute of every hour of my life-- She looked puzzle but let me
touch her arm --You do not care I am cripple? You do not se how ugly it is?--
--No! I find it... It's a turn on! The way you walk, the way you hold things
under your stump... It's fascinating!-- --You are very strange, but I like
you... Doctor in Russia told me about people like you, people who like
disfigured girls. But I didn't believed, and you are first I meet... I like
you, you look at me with desire, the way men used to look at me... I do not
care you like amputations. I would let you touch anything for a massage, all
hurts...-- I kissed her in the shadows, her full lips engulfed mine. Her
veteran tongue ran into my mouth and drove me crazy. She hugged me using her
stump, pressing her big chess against mine --I need man for a long time now...
You take me upstairs?-- She whispered in my ear. I figured Adam succumbed to
one of such whispers that fateful day in the Garden of Eden.
    As soon as the door closed behind me I was nibbling, sucking and kissing
the end of her cut off arm. She stopped in the middle of the room amazed. Her
scars ran deep, it was easy to pick the places where the stitches had been.
Even I could tell this was a very bad job. Obviously the surgeon did not take
his time with her on did nor know what he was doing. --What happened?-- I
asked casually, she knew immediately what I was talking about --Four years
before in Russia I worked in factory at night, accident happened in my section
and many workers got injured. The hospital had few doctors on duty... They
said I needed very long, complicated surgery, but there was no time for that
because there where too many injured... I was amputated instead... Then I
could not work anymore and government gave me pension... I had boyfriend
before accident. He had left for the army two month before. I told him about
the accident... He promised to come back to me but his friends wrote back home
to their girlfriends saying how he was going out with other girls  and he was
saying to them that if we married he could not be intimate with me because I
was cripple. I felt very bad and decided I did not wanted him. Then my sister
asked for me to come to America and I came... I love Liuva. She needs money
for studding but uses it to care for me. I want to help but it is difficult
for me... Very hard for person with amputation... Men don't like an amputated
girl either... They push me away, all I want is to have good time. Your friend
too, he makes fun and yells to me, he do not like watching me...-- She went on
recounting some more bad experiences while I went around her and started
kissing her neck.
    I held her breasts in my hands through the fabric looking for her nipples.
My touch aroused her and I found my objectives --Yes... I have done this for
myself for so long...-- --I will remedy that-- I said, already playing with
her nipples, she went into a frenzy. She propped her little cane against her
hip, pulled down the right sleeve and started removing her sweater. I helped
her as soon as I realized what she was trying to accomplish. Her areolas were
big pink circles surrounding her hard and overextended nipples. I sucked on
her melons like a newborn. She had her eyes closed, keeping her balance with
the cane slightly tilted forward to the left, deeply entrenched in the carpet.
Her arm stump move about stroking whatever part of me it found. I was in
heaven and there could not be a more erotic angel! She moaned laud with
pleasure, her smile came back. I stuck my hand from underneath her mini skirt
and pulled off her wet panties. My hand caressed her pubic area and I realized
she was wearing a crotchles pantyhose. I helped her open her legs a little
bit, enough to squeeze two fingers inside her. By now her cunt was  dripping
badly. I continue kissing her shoulders and neck, one hand wrestling with her
breasts and the other one massaging her clitoris. Well, it did not last, she
came in a unusual violent way. So many orgasms rocked her little body I had to
hold her so she would not fall. Her arm's stump trashed uncontrollably. When
she came down a little I picked her up and dropped her onto the bed. She
pulled off her miniskirt, she was practically naked, only her pantyhose and
boots remained.
    She rolled over her stomach and pulled herself up, she then hung onto the
bed's headboard. --Come here, I have little space I want you to fill...-- she
said wiggling her buttocks in my direction. I fucked her up her ass, just as
she asked me. --Hold... my... my tits...please...-- Her melons were swinging
wildly, hitting everything within reach and her arm's stump could not restrain
then. I placed one hand over them and she put her arm's stump over it, making
a sandwich of my hand. I grabbed her hip with my other hand and. She was so
energetic I wondered what would have been should she had had her full
compliment of limbs. I was spent at the end but she was just getting started.
She sat on top of me and dropped her breasts on my face, as a sucked on them I
heard the distinctive sound of Velcro pulling apart. I rolled over and ended
on top of her --Take off boots now... No, pull from bottom... yes... that's
it-- The boots came off and I placed them on the floor by the bed. She rubbed
the wide ends of her legs.. The superfluous part of the nylon pantyhose legs
had been cut off and the tubes were sewn shut to produce the new ends. Her leg
stumps where big, fat cones of flesh, the scars ran across the back
immediately after the tips. The surgeon had done a better job there but the
end result was still very messy. She did not have much in the way of muscles,
her flesh was flabby, riddle with cellulite and baby fat. I massage one stump
at a time and she relaxed --Sometimes I feel my legs, they hurt as if they
were there... massages is the only thing that helps but I only have one hand--
--You don't use prostheses because they hurt?-- --Oh no! I am just more
comfortable with my boots. They do not tire me as quickly as the full
prostheses do, plus I am closer to the ground and it is easier to get up--.
    I recuperated eventually and we went back at it but I could never compete.
Her stamina was incredible and I struggle constantly to keep up. Even after
eight years of marriage I am still struggling to keep up. Interestingly
enough, the only one how supported my decision to marry Olga was Yuri. Every
body else, including my beloved parents, was concerned and even outraged that
I will even consider marrying Olga. But in Yuri's own words "Hey body, do what
is good for you or you are not good for anybody". I am glad I did not pay
attention to main stream thought and opted to stick it out with Olga. I have
been the happiest husband this side of the Grande river ever since. No
complaints, no regrets, there is only open skies ahead.

Olga

 Olga

I hung up the phone and proceeded to jump and run around like an idiot.
Our project was a success!! The field officer in charge of the testing told me
our final upgrades to the guidance system had fixed all the problems with the
XRmz-126 model. He instructed me to show up for the next series of tests
commencing the next day. I got my coat on my way out the door. I liked to be
the first to give Yuri, my partner, good news. He was the best programmer I
had met so far working with the company and he new it. It was not unusual for
him to celebrate before the final results were in. I knew were Yuri was most
certainty. Yuri Sebolovich had been born in the Motherland some forty-two
years ago. He was the result of a one night stand between a secretary and an
army captain. He never met his father but did not miss him that much either.
Yuri's philosophy was very simple, do what ever makes you happy until you drop
dead. He did not even have a bank account and usually spent his large
paychecks faster than what it takes to down a shot of vodka. I drove 23 miles
into town and headed for downtown. I went around the block a few times and
finally found a suitable parking space for my Chevy Suburban. I came here
often if only looking for Yuri.  Contrary to Yuri's lifestyle, I always tried
to do the "right thing". I had no vices and for the most part ran away from
temptation. Save the occasional get together with the guys at the lab I never
went out. That said, it should not surprise you my lack of knowledge about
relating to the opposite sex. I had been ten times more active during high
school and college than now! I could not help the fact my taste was very
particular and the right woman had not shown up yet. But the events taking
place that night will change all that in a very drastic way.
     I almost ran, I was so damned exited, but somehow I covered the distance
to the club at a brisk pace. From the outside it looked like nothing was going
on, another building in the quiet neighborhood. No noises or lights denoting
the orgy taking place inside. Yuri spent a lot of time here, not to mention
his "green", indulging in every conceivable pleasure. He liked this place
because 90% of the people coming to these parties were Russian or Russian
descendent. The guy at the door smiled and let me in. They knew me since every
other day I was there searching for Yuri, and Yuri was very popular off
course. Almost instantly I ran into Madame Boronets. She owned the place, me
and her engaged in very interesting conversations. She was surprisingly well
versed on a wide variety of subjects and she was very intelligent. She hung to
my arm without ceremony while holding a very aromatic cigarette on the other
hand. The place was packed and the noise beyond description. --Your friend is
really frisky tonight... Lots of energy, he disappear a couple of hours ago
with the Kutuzhovk sisters. These girls make an interesting pair... I truly
missed your conversation last week dear. Not many intelligent men such as
yourself come into this house and those who do are not here to chat with me.
Do you care for a cup of tea little one?-- --Thanks, but I must decline, I am
in a hurry...-- --Ough? Where is the fire friend?-- --I have a very important
message for Yuri, it can't wait... We must depart as soon as possible for the
testing grounds-- --So, another big project is about to end. Alright dear, but
I want no part of his screaming! Lets see... He is having his private little
party in suit 28. Yes!-- She smiled, pleased with her ability of keeping track
of things. I bent and kissed her in the forehead and thanked her --I am sure
he will come back, we will talk then-- --Yes dear... Good luck, you two!-- I
turned around and ran upstairs. I complimented the ladies walking around as I
moved pass them but was ignored, as usually.
    The door was not locked but I knocked and announced myself as always. Yuri
loved to shock people and I hated to give him any opportunities. --Come in
Chuck!-- I entered the room very quietly and closed the door behind me. I took
a good look around and my speech was gone along with the good news about the
project. Yuri was laying on a bed, there where two girls working on him. The
Kutuzhovk sisters were big, full figured women with perfect pear shaped
bodies. Even though they were not facing me I could tell both had very well
developed bosoms. One of the girls was smothering my friend's face under her
heavy knockers. Yuri had a firm grasp on the large, rounded cheeks of her
bottom. His hands squeezed frantically the generous masses of flesh. The other
girl was giving head, kneeling... But where the hell were the lower parts of
her legs?!... Right there and then Yuri came out of the clouds of flesh and
looked at me. He was going to say something but his orgasm took control over
him. He only managed to moan in pleasure. The girl on the floor moved back two
short stiff legged steps, I saw her tights lift clean off the floor... There
was nothing else underneath!! A legles woman?! I had seen this guy with two
women before, even three, but never anything like this. The knot in my stomach
grew. The voice in the back of my head kept telling me not to stare, to go and
wait outside but I was glued in place. All three were talking in Russian,
smiling and giggling occasionally. Yuri was really talking to the able body
girl, ignoring the other sister. All of the sudden I was very exasperated with
him. How could he ignored that poor chubby thing, a little more than 4 feet
tall, wobbling around by the end of the bed!!
    I could not understand the sudden rush, the stomach cramps, the anxiety...
Stop staring! You know how improper and impolite that is!... But my eyes would
not obey. I could not see anything except this girl on the floor. She bent a
little bit reached with her left arm and picked a piece of clothing from the
floor, it turned out to be a sweater. She started putting it on, while the
other two kissed, and then I saw something that made me feel worse. The
cramps, the knots, my body was going haywire... Her right arm went into the
thick sleeve but it only penetrated about 8 inches. Beyond that the sleeve
felt empty, pulling inwards as if to make it plainly obvious her arm was gone!
I could not believe my eyes!! This is outrageous!! Making that poor girl
humiliate herself like this... She is an amputee for God's sake!... So? She's
still a woman with a tremendously sexy body... --Hello!... Olga...-- Her left
hand, her only hand rather, was resting on her chess --Your name?-- --Cha...
Charles... or Chuck-- Hers was a heavy Russian accent --American! Love
America!-- She struggle for the words a little but was confident with the
outcome. She was the youngest one of the two and gorgeous. I looked on as she
fixed her short jet black hair. Oh! she was so beautiful, so beautiful... How
and why was she so badly mutilated?... One tight moved forward, coming down
forcefully, she almost lost her balance --You roll sleeve for Olga?-- Her
leftover of a right arm was pointing at me --Your friend... strong like bear,
I... I am... humm... tired-- She finished the thought with a big smile and I
dropped on my knees to her level.
    I rolled the sweaters sleeve until my fingers made a brief contact
against her fleshy stump. I pulled out as if an scorpion had bitten me --Roll
more!-- I tried to move the rolled sleeve closer to the end of her arm. I did
not want her stump to show, it was not proper for such things to be flaunted.
She brushed me aside and forced the sleeve past the end of her truncated right
arm. The pressure of the sleeve made the stump's end look like a grotesque
bubble, only allowing two inches through --Ooh! I can't! It's pain!-- The
sleeve was firmly stuck there and she could not pulled it up any further. I
forced the sleeve up and her stump brushed my fingers again. It felt warm,
soft, smooth like a baby's bottom but it looked like Doctor Frankestain's
handy work. Discolored patches of skin here and there contrasted with
pink-reddish ones. Her scars formed canyons. She noticed my stare and moved
uncomfortable --...It's pain...-- She said, proceeding to rubb the exposed
rounded end and hiding it inside her hand --You mean it hurts-- --Uuhh... Yes,
hurts!...Very-- Unconsciously I extended my hands towards the stump. She let
me massage the entire stump while she held on to my shoulder, smiling like a
child eating from an ice cream cone. She had such a lovely smile! I looked
down, her thighs were enclosed in cylinders made of leather, open in front
from where I could see all the way down. The openings were held shut by Velcro
straps. The leather buckets were attached to thick, round rubber disks, some
sort of shoes' soles. She was wearing a mini-skirt, all I had to do was  pull
the fabric up a few inches... --Olga, lets go!-- The other sister urged. Olga
gave me a sad puppy look and pulled her maimed arm out of my grasp --Thank
you-- She said and turned towards her sister grabbing her hand as a child
would, they left. She turned again for a second upon reaching the door letting
me catch a glance of her smile. Seeing her stiff leg walk, her swaging bulging
breasts, the sensual cadence of her hips and butt brought back the strange
sensation in my stomach... and then I noted my erection! What the hell is
going on with me...?!
    --You liked the sisters?... Ah! What am I saying!? I suppose you have
never been fucked by a woman and a half-- Yuri was sitting on the bed with his
pants on, buttoning up his shirt and laughing hard at his own joke. It was
typical of him to laugh at such things. --The little one sucked me dry... It's
a pity you can't look at her... She is a dammed freak alright... I had to tell
her not to touch me with that chopped off arm of hers! I wish she had kept her
sweater on so I would not have seen it... Such a repulsive thing!... And her
legs are gone too. Can you imagine them stumps trying to pull you in?-- and
luckily I could imagine such thing and therefore was not paying too much
attention. Still, his insensitive remarks where making my blood boil. I told
him the news from the testing grounds to end his bull shit. I could not bear
listening to him talking that way... Wait a minute! She is an easy girl just
like the others Yuri slept around with and yet my usual disdain for them did
not apply. My mind was splitting in two!... We went downstairs, the able body
sister came to say goodbye --Come back soon... And look me up-- --Yes Liuva,
I'll come back for you soon-- answered Yuri embracing her one more time and
slapping her disproportionately large behind. There was no sight of Olga, she
was lost in the crowd. I said goodbye to Madame Boronets from afar and then
Yuri and I left.
    I took Yuri back to the compound where we lived, near the lab buildings.
We packed our suitcases light since we estimated we will be out there for a
week the most. Then we picked up all the material from the lab pertaining the
project and got into the Suburban one more time. I drove on all night without
saying a word to Yuri who eventually felt asleep. I had left my mind behind,
in that little room in the club. I was ready to drop this project on anyone's
lap and turn 180 degrees. I had this incredible urge to hold Olga in my arms
and swept her off her feet... Ironic, but she had no feet. I am fantasizing
about half a woman! My mind is gone! ... And what guaranties are there that
she will come with me or that she fancies me even? I am crazy!! If this is not
lust at first site I don't know what is. I wanted her so bad my body ached.
The second round of tests was delayed because the prototypes had some flaws
due to the methods used in their construction. We ended up spending three and
a half weeks out there after which I was ready to decapitate a couple of
engineers with my bare hands. Finally, the models came true and the necessary
data was generated and sent to the engineers at the plant. We went back to the
compound.
    I drove back at a neck breaking speed, Yuri's knuckles were white, that's
how hard he was holding on to his seat. I took a shower and got ready in 20
minutes flat and drove into town. I stood at the door of the club with a
little trepidation... Ah! Just go in, darned! Madame Boronets welcomed me, she
was very curious about my presence there. She was even more surprised when I
asked for Olga --Which Olga dear? We have many Olgas running around...-- --The
one that has a sister... Aaaah... Liuva, that's her sister's name!--
--Hummm... Ah! Yes, I remember them now... But, little one, what can possible
interest you in that girl? If you are looking for someone special I am sure
there are many other girls that will accommodate your taste much better...--
--I just want to talk to her...-- --Hummm! Wait here, I saw them earlier, let
me check if they have not left. I will save you the trip through the dance
floor-- Madame Boronets disappear for a long while but came back with a smile.
--She remembers you, little devil! What is going on?... She is in that section
over there-- she said pointing to a far corner beyond the dancing floor
--Thank you...-- But I stood there looking in the direction she indicated,
with a glass of beer in my hands --Well dear, neither opportunity, nor chance
await for any one-- I went slowly through the crowd, remembering how it felt
the day I saw that girl in the wheelchair coming out of the theatre. She was
twice my age, her legs ended right below the knees. She notice me and smiled.
My mother kept pulling me away, I would have given anything up to see and
touch those short stumps. I felt the same urgency now.
    The dance floor was left behind, incredibly, not one drop of the beer had
dropped. I looked around and all of the sudden our eyes met. I found her
delicious smile underneath her bewitching eyes. Her lips moved --Come!-- her
voice sounded even more melodious than what I remembered it to be. I have no
idea how I could hear her above the ruckus. She was standing on the seat of
one of the very well concealed and cozy booths of that section. Her clothes
were thither on her than the first time. I could tell she had no bra, her
massive melons protruded underneath her sweater in a very provocative manner.
The right sleeve had been pulled up and a sizeable part of her stump was
showing. She caressed the stump's tip with her long fingers, alternating
between rubbing and squeezing. She had another mini-skirt on, about the same
size as the other one. It was not elastic and the pressure of her huge ass
pulled the material up in the back showing more of her boots. I could almost
see her butt. She had some sort of nylons of which I thought it was kinky.
There was a short cane resting on her hip. She gave me an apprehensive look
mixed with curiosity. I had no idea an amputee could be so sexy! The commotion
of her chest with every movement, the swing of her wide hips... --You wanted
to see me? What is up?-- --I just wanted to talk to you, get to know you
better... But now I do not know what to say-- She smiled, intrigued, but
somewhat pleased with my interest. We talked for a long time, I lost track of
time. She was very pleasant to talk to and more and more charming as the
evening progressed. She had very few inhibitions if any so... --Would you like
sex?-- The question was so direct and abrupt that took me very much by
surprise. Yes, that will be nice, I thought looking at her behemoth breasts
resting on the table, but could not bring my mouth to say it. She had called
my bluff so to speak. --You want my sister too, no?-- --No, no, just you--
--You not understand... I... Men do not want me because amputations...-- She
waved the stump of her arm slowly and finally rested it on her hand, pointing
it at my face --I have ugly body; I am no good without my sister. They said I
can satisfy no one... No one comes for me alone so I have not learn to make
men happy... I go now...--     She tried her best to put up her smile but her
lips trembled and a couple of big tears rolled down her face. She was so
ashamed of her condition and probably had been told so many times otherwise
that it was impossible for her to think someone may want her. I saw how she
jumped from the seat to the carpet, landing on her boots. Then she put all her
weight on her right leg stump, dogged the cane on the carpet and pointed
forward with her arm stump. Her left hip pulled up the respective stump and
then the stump move forward in a short step. She then shifted her weight onto
her left leg stump. As her arm stump came back down with force her right leg
stump and the cane came forward in another little step. This happened very
quickly the cycle repeated once more before she reached me. She was going for
the entrance behind me moving with such grace and that stiff leg walk!... I
came down to her level placing one hand on her belly and the other on her hip
which made her stop but not rise her eyes. I grabbed her chin gently --Don't
cry, I do not want to make you sad. Such beautiful eyes should never cry-- She
looked at me, waiting --I do not want you to go... I want you, just you. Since
I saw you for the first time I have done nothing but to think about you... I
think you are the most attractive woman in the world-- --You lie. You tell
Olga nice things because amputations... Mama did same in Russia...-- I grabbed
her arm stump and massaged it --See, I don't mind, I am looking forward to do
this every minute of every hour of my life-- She looked puzzle but let me
touch her arm --You do not care I am cripple? You do not se how ugly it is?--
--No! I find it... It's a turn on! The way you walk, the way you hold things
under your stump... It's fascinating!-- --You are very strange, but I like
you... Doctor in Russia told me about people like you, people who like
disfigured girls. But I didn't believed, and you are first I meet... I like
you, you look at me with desire, the way men used to look at me... I do not
care you like amputations. I would let you touch anything for a massage, all
hurts...-- I kissed her in the shadows, her full lips engulfed mine. Her
veteran tongue ran into my mouth and drove me crazy. She hugged me using her
stump, pressing her big chess against mine --I need man for a long time now...
You take me upstairs?-- She whispered in my ear. I figured Adam succumbed to
one of such whispers that fateful day in the Garden of Eden.
    As soon as the door closed behind me I was nibbling, sucking and kissing
the end of her cut off arm. She stopped in the middle of the room amazed. Her
scars ran deep, it was easy to pick the places where the stitches had been.
Even I could tell this was a very bad job. Obviously the surgeon did not take
his time with her on did nor know what he was doing. --What happened?-- I
asked casually, she knew immediately what I was talking about --Four years
before in Russia I worked in factory at night, accident happened in my section
and many workers got injured. The hospital had few doctors on duty... They
said I needed very long, complicated surgery, but there was no time for that
because there where too many injured... I was amputated instead... Then I
could not work anymore and government gave me pension... I had boyfriend
before accident. He had left for the army two month before. I told him about
the accident... He promised to come back to me but his friends wrote back home
to their girlfriends saying how he was going out with other girls  and he was
saying to them that if we married he could not be intimate with me because I
was cripple. I felt very bad and decided I did not wanted him. Then my sister
asked for me to come to America and I came... I love Liuva. She needs money
for studding but uses it to care for me. I want to help but it is difficult
for me... Very hard for person with amputation... Men don't like an amputated
girl either... They push me away, all I want is to have good time. Your friend
too, he makes fun and yells to me, he do not like watching me...-- She went on
recounting some more bad experiences while I went around her and started
kissing her neck.
    I held her breasts in my hands through the fabric looking for her nipples.
My touch aroused her and I found my objectives --Yes... I have done this for
myself for so long...-- --I will remedy that-- I said, already playing with
her nipples, she went into a frenzy. She propped her little cane against her
hip, pulled down the right sleeve and started removing her sweater. I helped
her as soon as I realized what she was trying to accomplish. Her areolas were
big pink circles surrounding her hard and overextended nipples. I sucked on
her melons like a newborn. She had her eyes closed, keeping her balance with
the cane slightly tilted forward to the left, deeply entrenched in the carpet.
Her arm stump move about stroking whatever part of me it found. I was in
heaven and there could not be a more erotic angel! She moaned laud with
pleasure, her smile came back. I stuck my hand from underneath her mini skirt
and pulled off her wet panties. My hand caressed her pubic area and I realized
she was wearing a crotchles pantyhose. I helped her open her legs a little
bit, enough to squeeze two fingers inside her. By now her cunt was  dripping
badly. I continue kissing her shoulders and neck, one hand wrestling with her
breasts and the other one massaging her clitoris. Well, it did not last, she
came in a unusual violent way. So many orgasms rocked her little body I had to
hold her so she would not fall. Her arm's stump trashed uncontrollably. When
she came down a little I picked her up and dropped her onto the bed. She
pulled off her miniskirt, she was practically naked, only her pantyhose and
boots remained.
    She rolled over her stomach and pulled herself up, she then hung onto the
bed's headboard. --Come here, I have little space I want you to fill...-- she
said wiggling her buttocks in my direction. I fucked her up her ass, just as
she asked me. --Hold... my... my tits...please...-- Her melons were swinging
wildly, hitting everything within reach and her arm's stump could not restrain
then. I placed one hand over them and she put her arm's stump over it, making
a sandwich of my hand. I grabbed her hip with my other hand and. She was so
energetic I wondered what would have been should she had had her full
compliment of limbs. I was spent at the end but she was just getting started.
She sat on top of me and dropped her breasts on my face, as a sucked on them I
heard the distinctive sound of Velcro pulling apart. I rolled over and ended
on top of her --Take off boots now... No, pull from bottom... yes... that's
it-- The boots came off and I placed them on the floor by the bed. She rubbed
the wide ends of her legs.. The superfluous part of the nylon pantyhose legs
had been cut off and the tubes were sewn shut to produce the new ends. Her leg
stumps where big, fat cones of flesh, the scars ran across the back
immediately after the tips. The surgeon had done a better job there but the
end result was still very messy. She did not have much in the way of muscles,
her flesh was flabby, riddle with cellulite and baby fat. I massage one stump
at a time and she relaxed --Sometimes I feel my legs, they hurt as if they
were there... massages is the only thing that helps but I only have one hand--
--You don't use prostheses because they hurt?-- --Oh no! I am just more
comfortable with my boots. They do not tire me as quickly as the full
prostheses do, plus I am closer to the ground and it is easier to get up--.
    I recuperated eventually and we went back at it but I could never compete.
Her stamina was incredible and I struggle constantly to keep up. Even after
eight years of marriage I am still struggling to keep up. Interestingly
enough, the only one how supported my decision to marry Olga was Yuri. Every
body else, including my beloved parents, was concerned and even outraged that
I will even consider marrying Olga. But in Yuri's own words "Hey body, do what
is good for you or you are not good for anybody". I am glad I did not pay
attention to main stream thought and opted to stick it out with Olga. I have
been the happiest husband this side of the Grande river ever since. No
complaints, no regrets, there is only open skies ahead.