Lauras Legs

I.

"I hate my legs!"

"You always say that."

"Whatever."

"You can see they sure as hell turn me on."

Laura was lounging back against the pillows propped up against the head of the bed, and gazing dull-eyed down the length of her naked body. I lay full-length beside her, on my side, my head propped up on my hand, elbow digging into the soft mattress. My free hand stroked the inside of her huge thigh, and my mouth was just even with her pert left nipple.

"You always manage to turn me on with them -- why do you give a damn what they look like?"

"But they're so ugly!"

They were, I guess. Fact is, Laura had very large legs. They were stubby and heavy, the thighs would each make two of mine, the calves descending directly from knee to ankle like posts, with no semblance of curves. And her hips matched the legs. A truly bleak inheritance -- her mother was shaped exactly the same way. But for some reason those legs made me horny as hell.

I loved watching her walk around the office in a dress or a skirt, even a longish one, which I always tried to talk her out of wearing. She had a light-blue squaw dress which was more effective in hiding those huge hips, and was only knee-length. That one really turned me on. That's the one she'd been wearing on the day I could no longer stand it and asked her to have a drink with me one afternoon after work.

Having no other man in sight, she agreed. By then she knew the effect her legs had on me, though she tried to deny it, or deny she knew about it.

That evening it had taken only three drinks to get her into bed.

When I got her home she invited me in with the promise of coffee, but it was obvious she was ready. She did go into the kitchen to make the coffee, but I followed her, and stood behind her and leaned against her back and put my arms around her waist and kissed the back of her neck. I had a raging hard-on, which I pressed firmly into her pillowy backside, without the slightest embarrassment.

She set the teakettle down on the countertop and laid her head back against me. I kissed her cheek, and she responded by twisting her head around toward my mouth. I slid my hands up under her bra and cupped her small breasts, and she began to moan. She wriggled around to face me and put her arms around me and gave me a big, wet open-mouthed kiss, running her tongue halfway down my throat. My hands roamed over those lush, full hips and slowly bunched her dress up in the back until I had my hands on her pantyhose-covered butt cheeks. I pressed her to me and ground my rigid rod against her.

Finally I turned her around, took her face in my hands, looked her in the eye and said, "Laura, I want you naked. I'm going to fuck you." She gave me a little half smile as I reached around for the zipper on her dress and slowly pulled it down. When everything was loose she shrugged out of the spaghetti strap top and the dress slithered down, pooling around her ankles. While she kicked off her shoes I unhooked her bra, which joined the dress on the floor. Then I hesitated, not really sure how I was going to deal with the pantyhose. But by then she was more than ready and in a small voice said, "I think it's time to go to the bedroom."

It was when we were both naked and thrashing around on her bed that I learned that this girl really knew her stuff. It was hard to imagine. In addition to being small-breasted and big-legged, the girl was by no stretch pretty. Nevertheless, she'd got some experience somewhere. I decided to ask her about it... maybe later.

She never would let me move in with her, although I wanted to, but we logged a lot of sack time together. Most evenings, and more than a few lunch hours, I spent in happy bliss, being worked over by this most unlikely of sex partners. The only thing I didn't like about her was that she was always complaining about her legs. They were ugly, all right, but for some reason they kept me in a constant state of excitement.

Finally, I got sick of hearing about how ugly her legs were, how everybody ignored her, how nobody liked her, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

"I have a solution."

"What do you mean?"

"I know how you can solve your problem."

"Yeah, Weight-Watchers, right?" I've been down that road a thousand times. I'm convinced it just makes me worse."

"No, not Weight-Watchers."

"What, then?" She idly took my free hand and moved it down to her crotch. "Plastic surgery?"

I responded by gently stroking her wet pubic hair. "Nope. I've got an idea that'll change your life."

"Right."

"Amputation. Have 'em cut off."

Her head snapped around. "What?"

"Sure. Have your legs amputated. In fact, you could probably get by with just having one off. That way you could get around on crutches instead of a wheelchair. Either way, I guarantee you your life will change. You'll have guys coming out of the woodwork. I won't be able to get near you."

I expected her to just hit me with a pillow, after which we'd do a little rasslin', after which -- well, you know. But she just continued to give me that wide-eyed, slack-jawed stare. "Hey, c'mon, babe, I..."

"Don't say you didn't mean it." Her voice was suddenly serious. "I want you to get dressed."

"But babe, I'm..."

"Don't argue. I'm not kicking you out. Just go wait in the living room for a few minutes. Make yourself a drink."

There was something in her eyes I'd never seen before, and it kinda scared me. I did as ordered.

I was halfway through my second Jack Daniel's on the rocks, when I heard her coming down the hall. At least I thought I heard her coming down the hall. I turned around to face the doorway -- and leaped to my feet as though propelled by an electric charge. My drink glass clumped to the carpet, the ice skittering across the floor.

She was standing in the doorway wearing that squaw dress I liked so much. She was leaning on a pair of crutches. She needed them to stand, since there was only one leg visible beneath the skirt.

She was also wearing a faint smile. "Is this what you had in mind?"

Later, when we'd exhausted each other on the bed again, she told me more about it. "I've played this game since I was a kid," she said. "In my kindergarten there was girl named Paula, and she only had one leg. She was born that way. She was the first one-legged girl I'd ever seen. She had a stump that went about to where her knee should have been, and she usually wore a metal brace thing that strapped around the stump and looked just like a polio brace, except there was a flat round plate on the bottom instead of a shoe, and of course no leg inside. Sometimes, though, she'd come to school without it, walking on a pair of little crutches. All the rest of us kids thought she was really something, and we'd beg her to let us play with the crutches. But she and I sat next to each other because our names started with the same letter, and we became best friends, and I was the only one she'd let play with her crutches very much. We lived near enough to each other that we were together a lot, and she didn't mind at all that I liked her stump and was fascinated by the way she got around. It seemed perfectly natural to both of us, and we've remained friends all these years.

"And before you get any ideas, she lives in Florida now, and she's happily married to a guy who really gets off on one-legged girls. They've been married for 10 years, and they have three kids.

"I never told her that I thought it was sexy to be one-legged. And I've certainly never told her that I play around like this; tie up my leg and crutch around. Obviously you know it turns me on. I'll show you some pictures, if you want. I have plenty of me, and some of her. And there are some others, too.

"You've wondered how I got so good in bed. Well, it so happens that when I was in high school, I dated a one-legged guy. Two years. He was my first, and he taught me most of what I know. He'd had his right leg off at the hip, when he was only a toddler -- car wreck or something. He had no stump at all, and no shame about exploiting his advantage. When he found out I knew about the sexy aspects of being one-legged, he really came on to me, although he wouldn't have had to. By our second date I'd given him my virginity, and gladly, without a moment's hesitation. I really wanted him, and he was happy to oblige.

"He had a car, and he'd pick me up for dates wearing shorts. Now, it was sexy enough to see him swinging along on his crutches and that one leg, but when we got into the car he'd just lift the empty leg of the shorts and take out his dick. Nothing to unzip, nothing to struggle with -- he'd just reach down and move the drooping front part of the leg out of the way, and there was his tool, standing up like flagpole, and hard as an iron bar. It didn't take me long to discover that I could just lay down on the seat and put my head on his thigh, and take his dick in my mouth. We'd drive all over town with me sucking and sucking, and him cumming and cumming, until he just didn't have anything left. Then we'd go to a drive-in, I'd sit up long enough for him to order hamburgers and malts, and when we'd finished them, we'd start all over.

"It wasn't until after that first summer together that we ever did much else. He never even touched my tits -- unless we were actually naked in bed fucking -- and he'd bring me off just by running his hand down inside my panties and fingering me as we drove along. Geez, those dates were exhausting!" She was grinning.

By now Laura had put the rig back on and was sitting beside me on the sofa, and had her dress up over her hips so I could see what she did with her other leg. It was folded up and kept in place with the foot against her butt by an overlarge elastic panty girdle. The folds of the big dress effectively covered the arrangement, and she looked remarkably like she had one leg, at least from the front.

"So why haven't you ever got a leg off for real?"

She rolled her eyes. "First, I'm not sure I have the nerve, and second, I haven't a clue how I'd get it done. I'm sure not gonna just shoot it off with a shotgun or something. I've often wondered what kind of reaction I'd get if I just went to my regular doctor one day and asked if he'd please cut off my leg, and make a nice stump, about this long." She indicated about halfway down her thigh.

"What if I told you I had a friend?" Her eyes widened and she turned visibly pale. She took a long drink of her gin and tonic before she turned to look at me. Her hand was trembling.

"Don't put me on."

"Laura, it can't be a shock to you that you're not the only one who ever felt this way, or who ever played this game -- although I must say, you're the best I've ever seen." I didn't specify how many others I'd seen.

"Well, do you?"

"Do I have a friend, etc.? Yes, actually I do. I know a bunch of guys, and 10 or 12 girls, who have the same feelings I -- we -- have. All the girls I'm talking about have some amputation -- mostly they're one-legged -- and I know that at least two went and had it done. Actually, I suspect two more, but I don't know for sure, and I don't know them well enough to ask.

"OK, then, if you have this vast selection why are you balling chubby little ol' two-legged me?"

I had a feeling I was headed for trouble. I didn't want to lose what I had, and I certainly didn't want to get Laura pissed off, especially in view of the unlikely event she really did go through with it.

"Laura, first of all, I like you. A lot. And how many times do I have to tell you, your legs turn me on -- even though there are too many of them. Besides, I figure if you ever did go through with it, I'd have so much competition you and I would be history."

"You'd care about that?" She said it in a voice suddenly soft and quiet, and I noticed that her eyes were moist.

"Of course I'd care about that!" I pulled her to me and began to stroke her nearest thigh.

It was true. For some reason, those two fat ugly legs and those enormous hips were nearly as erotic to me as any one-legged girl's stump. I couldn't explain it, but then I couldn't explain the fascination for one-legged girls, either.

"Besides, the selection is a little short of vast. The 10 or 12 girls I mentioned are scattered around the country, except for three who live here, and all three of them are -- uh -- occupied. I know them, and most of the guys, through correspondence and phone calls."

"Any one-legged guys?" A sly grin.

I hit her with the pillow. "I don't do guys, Laura, and besides, you're the only girl I've ever heard of who has an interest in one-legged guys. Most of the girls are content to attract men with their stumps -- or lack thereof."

"Well, I guess it's just my depraved childhood. Here, let me demonstrate..."

Further conversation was of limited literary value for the next 20 or 30 minutes. She really was a great lay, just the way she was.

II

After that day we played one-legged games whenever it suited her fancy, which was fairly often, but it was a long time before we talked any more about really having one of her legs amputated. But finally, inevitably, I guess, the subject came up again.

We'd been to a mall. She loved to drive to the other side of town and crutch one-legged around the mall with me, lapping up the stares and the slack-jawed attention she received from everyone who saw her. I was always horny as hell when we got back to the apartment, and she was always more than happy to provide relief.

On this night, though, after a particularly lengthy and fulfilling session, I was lying beside her, naked, half asleep after spending all my sexual capital, and contented with the world. If I were a smoker, I'd have been having a cigarette.

Anyway, I'm lying there beside her, cuddling her in the crook of my elbow, my hand gently playing with her nipple, and her leg bent over on top of me, idly caressing my tool. Suddenly she said, "I think I'm ready."

"Ready for what?" thinking she meant ready to get up, or ready to go again, or ready to have a drink -- anything but what I heard next.

"Ready to have a leg off, ready to really be one-legged. At least ready to look into it."

Suddenly I was wide awake, sitting straight up in bed, the movement almost dumping her onto the floor.

"Hey," she laughed, "Take it easy. I don't mean this minute!"

Recovering my composure a bit I asked, "Well, so which leg would you want off?"

"The right, I think. About here." She put her hand on her right thigh, about halfway between her knee and her groin.

"I want to look into it. Any idea how much it costs?"

"Not really, but I don't think it's cheap. If I understand right, the girls who've had it done went to Mexico -- some little clinic over the border somewhere."

"Do you think it's safe?"

"Well, it's hard to know for sure, I guess, but apparently they all survived it. Maybe the best thing is to see if I can arrange to introduce them to you. You can just pump them to your heart's content."

"When?"

"Well, as I say, I don't really know them personally, but I do know one of the guys, and maybe he can set it up. Are you sure about this?"

"I really don't know yet, I guess, but I'm sure enough that I want to talk to somebody about it."

III.

"Yes, I did have it done," Marilyn said in a quiet voice, absently running her hand over the end of the perfect stump that protruded from the right side of her shorts. "I'd wanted to be one-legged since I was a little girl. There was a one-legged girl my age who lived a few doors away, and we became best friends. We were both about six years old at the time. Her leg had been amputated just above the knee when she was only 18 months old -- they discovered a tumor on her shin bone -- so she'd never had any problems being one-legged. It was just the way she was.

"I loved watching her swing along on her little crutches, I loved the attention she got from everyone, and I thought her stump was the most interesting thing I'd ever seen. Of course it was years before I realized it was a sex thing. Or maybe it just developed into a sex thing. As we grew older and got into boys she and I discovered that there were boys who were really turned on by a one-legged girl, and who would do anything for even a glimpse of her stump."

"Yes," Laura said, "I knew a girl like that in school. Stole one of my boyfriends once." They laughed.

Marilyn said, "If a guy has a thing for amputees, it's no trick for the girl to get him, I assure you!"

"OK," Laura responded, straightening up in her chair and leaning forward. "I know you had it done, so I guess I could, too, if I want. But I want you to tell me about the downside. What's it like to have one leg? It has to be a real pain in the backside sometimes."

"Oh, it is. Believe me, being one-legged is not a continuous picnic. Now, you have to understand that I've never regretted what I did, and I'd do it again if I had to go back. Of course, I wanted very much to be one-legged, and it's been everything I expected it to be, and more. But yes, there are, shall we say, disadvantages."

Marilyn reached over and took Laura's hands in hers, leaned forward and looked her straight in the eyes. "You have to understand this very clearly: you'll never again in your life walk normally. You'll never again be sitting in a chair like this and just get up and walk across the room. You always have to think, 'where are my crutches,' and then drag them out and set them and get up onto them.

"If you ever decide you want to use a prosthetic, you have to put it on every morning, fight with the pain and the chafing and the heat rash, constantly be aware of where you're stepping, always feeling unsteady, like you're about to fall. And that's not to even mention the cost. You're not gonna believe what a good prosthetic leg costs.

"And of course the most difficult of all is that you look different. You'll look different for the rest of your life. There is no concealing the fact that you have a leg off. You're a cripple. You'll never again be inconspicuous, no matter how hard you try. People will stare, some will make rude remarks, most will look away when you look at them. You have to have a thick skin. Or develop one.

"Some men will be attracted to you, it's true. But some -- most, maybe -- will be repelled. I want to urge you most strongly, if you have it done, do it because you want it, not because some guy (a not-so-subtle glance in my direction) thinks you'd be sexy that way. I've met a lot of guys since I've been one-legged, and most of them are in love with stumps. Not necessarily my stump, you understand, just stumps in general. It has to be something you want, and you have to want it very, very badly.

But," Marilyn dropped Laura's hands, smiled broadly and leaned back into the cushions of the couch, "If you want it as badly as I did, it's like an obsession. Nothing is as important as getting that leg off. I thought about it constantly. Toward the end I spent more time with my leg tied up than I did walking normally. If I hadn't found the clinic I probably would have lost my leg to gangrene, or whatever you get when it's tied up all the time.

"Truth is, it's sometimes no fun being one-legged, but most of the time I absolutely love it."

"Would you say it's, like, 60-40 in favor?"

"I'd think, for me, more like 99-to-1, actually!" They both laughed. "But you have to decide for you, and there's sure no going back."

"Yes, I do understand that. I guess that's why I'm so interested in talking about it."

"Well, if it's any help, I was so nervous I actually threw up the day before my surgery. But when I got down there and checked in, I'd pretty much settled down."

"Which brings me to the next thing," said Laura. "How much does it hurt to have a leg amputated?"

"Surprisingly, not that much. They sedate you the minute you get there, to calm your nerves mostly, I think, and you're completely zonked for at least 12 hours afterwards. And from then on you just gradually come up out of a fog. They did the operation first thing one morning, and by that evening I was awake, but barely. The next morning, though, they had me up to go to the bathroom, even though things were still foggy. I don't remember a lot of that, truthfully, but I don't remember a lot of pain, either.