A Letter From Linda

Here is a copy of a letter I ran across the other day. I'd searched for it before, and I'd long since assumed it was just lost. I received it about four years ago. It's fairly self- explanatory:

Dear Phil,

I'm typing this with just my left hand, so I hope you'll overlook the errors. I'll tell you why in a little while.

We haven't had any contact in so long I hope you even remember me... I sure remember you! Anyway, I'm going to be in Houston next month and I thought I'd see if we could get together for lunch or something. But first there are a few things I need to tell you. In several ways I'm not exactly the same girl I was when I last saw you. I'd better tell you about the accident first.

In January a year ago, as I was crossing the street in Bryan, I was hit by a car. I don't remember a whole lot about it, but they tell me this large bod was tossed quite a distance. In addition to the cuts and bruises, I had 4 broken ribs, a broken leg, a fractured skull and a concussion. But the most severe injury was to my right arm. It was broken in a number of places and severely crushed.

Anyway, they took me to the hospital where I woke up after what they tell me was 6 hours of surgery, all plastered and wired together, with pins and screws everywhere. My mother says the first thing she thought of when she saw me was one of those cartoons of an accident victim all done up in plaster with wires and weights strung all over the room.

Eventually, everything began to go back together, except for my arm. As soon as I was coherent the doctors told me that it was very unlikely that I'd regain normal use of it. The elbow joint had been fused together and there were a number of plates and screws holding everything in place. One guy talked vaguely about reconstructive surgery on my hand "after other things healed up".

Well, I don't need to go into much more detail except to say that there were three more operations over the next few weeks. They kept feeding me antibiotics, but nothing seemed to make it any better. I kept getting high fevers that I knew had to be from an infection, and my arm always hurt. One day the doctor came in, removed some of the cast and poked around. He finally told me the arm wasn't healing and the infection was getting worse instead of better. There was nothing more they could do for me.

So, early in the morning of February 24, they took me in for one final surgery, the amputation of my right arm, above the elbow. In place of an arm I now have a short, chubby little stump with a funny-looking x-shaped scar across the end.

Which brings me to the reason I'm going to be in Houston. I have an appointment at TIRR, The Institute for Rehabilitation and Research, in the Medical Center. I'll be there about a month or six weeks, I think.

I don't think I'm going to get an artificial arm right now, so all they're really going to do is teach me to be a more successful one-armed girl. I'll tell you more about that later, but basically an artificial arm is very expensive, and without an elbow it's not very useful.

Phil, one of the reasons I want to talk to you is, I remember you used to tell me that you were turned on by one-legged girls. I thought it was weird at the time, but now I have to wonder if this kind of interest extends to girls with one arm. That's really why I'm writing after all this time. I'm scared to death that no man will ever want to look at me again, let alone touch me, and I guess I need to know what's possible. We really did have fun during the time we were together, and I've always considered you a friend. I'm not trying to revive the past. I just need a friend I can trust, to tell me how things really are going to be for me from now on, and I don't mean just trying to get around in the kitchen!

There are a few other things you need to know about that have happened to me since you and I knew each other. For instance, I have a son. He's two now, and his daddy and I love him very much. Unfortunately, his daddy, who is the assistant principal at the school where I taught, is married to someone else. Joshua was an accident, and his birth ended a glorious affair. But everyone knows about him now -- Bryan is a pretty small town! -- and he is loved and cherished, by me and his daddy, and by his two half brothers and their mother! I'll tell you more about that when (if) I see you.

Pregnancy did leave its mark. There is good news and bad news. The bad news is, I retained some of the weight I gained (which, as you know, I really didn't need!) and I have stretch marks. The good news is, if you liked my tits before, and I know you did, you'll love them now! I didn't think it was possible, but I've managed to gain and retain a full cup size. They're so big now that I can't just go buy a bra in a store -- I have to have them custom made.

I did lose weight while I was in the hospital after the accident, but I've since gained all of it back. I don't know what my arm weighed, but whatever it was it sure isn't noticeable on the scale!

Well, I'm getting tired of this. I hope you'll overlook all the mistakes. I'm just teaching myself to type -- the hospital loaned me a book on one-handed typing -- but it sure is slow going. Phil, I won't have any hard feelings if you don't want to see me. I had to tell you all the bad stuff. But I really would like to just have lunch or something. I'll be staying at TIRR for one week, and after that for three weeks at the Holiday Inn Crown Plaza in the Medical Center. I'm really not trying to bring back the past, but I sure would like to hear what you have to say.

Sincerely,

Linda R.

Needless to say, I called Linda immediately. I met her not only for lunch but for dinner and, well, dessert. We did, in fact, renew the past -- somewhat. We had another flaming, passionate affair, stimulated not only by her enormous breasts but now by her "chubby little stump," which I dearly love. I play with it, I cuddle it, I massage and kiss and suck it, and Linda, in turn, has learned how easy it is to bring me off just by stroking my dick with it.

I wish I could say we lived happily ever after, but unfortunately we are no more compatible now than we were before. I was able to reassure her, though, that having one arm would simply cause different men to be interested in her, and that she surely would never have to worry about being alone.

This has been the fact. Turns out that little Bryan, Texas is loaded with men who love large, buxom, one-armed women. Linda has never remarried, though, and neither have I. We correspond regularly now, and talk on the phone sometimes, and every so often she comes to Houston and we spend a thrilling weekend in bed. But we both know we can never go any further. Sex, no matter how passionate, does not a marriage make.

Josh is six now, and I've met him a couple of times. Great kid. Knows who his father is, and sees him often. Josh lives with Linda, who still teaches -- though at Texas A&M University now -- and who has adjusted quite nicely, thank you, to being a one-armed girl.

I'd like to believe I had a part in that.