Saturdays With Janet

Prologue

Janet Abbot was my first lover. She was, and is, my biggest fan and cheerleader as well. She was at my high school and college graduations. She was at my wedding. Nearly forty years have passed since I began my relationship with her and we still talk frequently. She is in her seventies and her health is slipping, but she’s still cheerful and fun. I do love her for so many reasons.

My Story

Ever since I can remember—going all the way back to age 5 or so—I have been greatly attracted to disabled women, particularly those who walk on crutches. I’m not sure how this got started; I have discreetly asked all my relatives at one point or another if there might have been a handicapped woman around when I was a baby. But apparently there wasn’t, and I have to assume I simply am different for some reason. Oh, I am very normal when it comes to being attracted to beautiful and intelligent women; sex is not relegated to deviant desires, thankfully. But, for me, a woman on crutches is a thing of beauty.

All that by way of introduction, I should also say that there are two kinds of crutch-walkers: those who get there and those who get there with style. Janet was in the latter group. She had a graceful and fluid way of moving on forearm crutches (the aluminum kind with cuffs) like no other woman I have ever seen. For Janet--Miss Abbott to me at the time--it was as if the crutches were an extension of her body and she was oblivious to the fact that she was using them. It was an amazing thing to see.

Janet Abbott lived a block up the street when I was growing up. She was unmarried and still lived with her divorced mother. Janet had contracted polio as a young adult …just a few months before the Salk vaccine became available. The result was flaccid paralysis without complete muscle loss in her legs. In other words, her legs were weak, but functional. She had a brace for her left leg, but used it with her crutches only when she was going to be standing for extended periods. I remember seeing her in her brace just a few times. Mostly, she just used her crutches.

Miss Abbott had a swinging gait and moved very quickly with great energy, something which contributed to the impression of style and grace. She put little weight on her left leg for the most part, although she had sufficient ability to step independently with either leg as necessary.

She was pretty, with naturally curly dark red hair that cascaded down her back. Piercing, intelligent green eyes seemed to see right through you. Best of all, her smile could light up a room.

A very unusual thing about Miss Abbott was that she liked to go barefoot. She had grown up in rural Florida going without shoes pretty much her whole childhood, and polio didn’t change that. Her feet were pretty, albeit with a little of the puffiness normally associated with polio. And, she seemed to always have a glossy pedicure. It was not unusual to see Janet swinging herself down the street to visit a neighbor with those bare feet flying out ahead of her. All in all, Janet Abbott was the most unembarrassed, uninhibited disabled person I have ever known. She took being handicapped in stride, never complained, and often made self-deprecating remarks like, “I’m just waiting to marry someone who appreciates great legs.” This was especially impressive given the fact that polio had robbed her of a normal lifestyle at a point in life where most women at the time were looking forward to marriage and children.

I had relatively little relationship with Miss Abbott until 1968, having to content myself with admiring her from afar and fantasizing a friendship. Ironically, the fantasy became a reality upon her mother’s untimely death of a heart attack. The news shocked the neighborhood and I remember hearing my father’s first reaction of, “That’s a shame. Who’s going to look after that poor crippled girl?” My mother went to the funeral while I was in school, and she had a question for me that afternoon that would rock my life. “Would you be willing to do some chores for Miss Abbott down the street and help her do some of the things she can’t do herself?” I barely heard the follow-up of, “she’ll be willing to pay you.” Pay me! I couldn’t wait! Flustered, I stumbled over my glad agreement and couldn’t sleep that night over the prospect of being an assistant to the lovely Janet Abbott.

My first encounter was a couple of days later. I had made careful preparation for my first “business meeting” with Miss Abbott, mentally rehearsing what I would say and how I would act. Additionally, I physically prepared. Knowing my typical reaction to just seeing her, I was mortified at the prospect of her noticing a pronounced bulge in my pants. I wore two pair of underwear and loose blue jeans, with a long pullover shirt hanging over the pants.

I went to see her on Saturday morning. I could feel my face flush as I rang the doorbell and heard the clicking of her crutches on the floor inside. The door swung open and there was Janet, barefoot as always, with a genuine smile on her face. She invited me in and offered me a cup of coffee—something I had not yet begun to drink. I stammered a “thank you, no,” and then further stumbled through some words of sympathy for her mother’s passing. Janet invited me to sit down and she gracefully collapsed onto the sofa across from me and set her crutches aside. She began the conversation.

“I need help around here, Marty. There are things I can do for myself, and, well, things I just can’t. If you can spend a few hours a week helping me with stuff like grocery shopping and getting this place re-organized I will pay you $20 a week. I wish I could afford more, but I’ll try not to work you too hard. What do you think?”

“I’d be glad to, Miss Abbott,” I said, suppressing my glee.

“Well, first of all, if we’re going to be working together every week, it’s Janet. No ‘Miss Abbot,’ OK?”

I immediately agreed and spend the rest of the morning doing minor chores like replacing burned-out light bulbs and tightening loose door hinges. It was like being in one of my own dreams. I spent the morning with the most enduring erection of my life. I wasn’t sure, I just prayed that she didn’t suspect why!

A few weeks passed and I still couldn’t believe my good fortune. I accompanied Janet to the grocery store every Saturday, reaching for things on upper and lower shelves at her direction and pushing the cart. I enjoyed surreptitiously watching other people’s reaction to Janet on her crutches. I did notice many times that some people often went too far out of their way not to stare, making themselves uncomfortably oblivious to Janet. Others were too fawning and eager to show their sympathy. To her credit, Janet endured all these well-meaning folks in turn without apparent concern. I learned a great deal about how people react and interact with the disabled during the time I worked for Janet, and I came away from my experiences sad with the realization that all too often, without trying, people alienate themselves by their strained reactions.

Janet and I began to build a friendship that seemed to transcend our age difference. I learned that she was fun, witty, and very bright. There was a comfort level between us, and, increasingly, a chemistry. My erection “problem” subsided somewhat with the passing of time. In fact, I noticed that my interest in other disabled women was far less than before I began working for Janet. I could actually pass a lady on crutches in the mall without having to figure out how to “discreetly” observe her. Nonetheless, I was still a teenager with raging hormones and Janet was still the most attractive handicapped woman I had ever seen. And one Saturday afternoon in March our relationship moved to another level.

I was standing on Janet’s kitchen counter reorganizing the upper cabinet area. She stood precariously below me, leaning on the counter for support and handing seldom-used plates to me to stack in the space I had created. Her crutches were on the other side of the counter where she had placed them out of the way. When the last plate was stored I watched from above as Janet began a maneuver I had never seen. She held the counter for support, moving herself sideways toward her crutches, lifting each leg with effort and allowing it to flop down in turn. This was more than I could handle, and my penis responded rapidly. I felt like I was on a stage (I was!) and my erection was unmistakable. Janet reached the opposite side, slid her arms into her crutches and looked up at me. And smiled. At that moment I wanted more than anything to be dead. My embarrassment was beyond anything I had ever experienced and I was certain I was going to be asked to leave.

“Marty, why don’t you hop down and come into the den with me?” she asked.

I meekly followed as Janet swung herself into the adjacent room.

“Marty, I have to ask you something. This is just between us, promise?”

Still beet-red, I promised.

“Marty…do you find my being crippled attractive? I want you to be honest.”

The world stopped. I didn’t know what to do. It was a damned-if-I- say-yes, damned-if-I-say-no” kind of situation. What would she think if I admitted my fascination? Would she tell me to leave and never come back? Should I just deny it? All this swirled in my mind for a single, agonizing second. I went for broke. I told the truth.

“Yes,” I said simply. After a pause I mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

“There is no need to be sorry, Marty. Really, I have known it for a long time…for years, in fact.”

Stunned, I asked how that could be. She told me that she had been very aware that I was different from the other kids. I had always been the one that went out of my way to speak to her and had looked for excuses to be around her. She had suspected that my attentions went beyond sympathy. And then she stunned me again.

“Marty, I have to tell you a secret. That’s why I asked your mother if you could come help me on the weekends. I decided that it would be nice to have a man around who actually found me attractive. Do you know that the last time a man found me attractive was when I was 23?”

I professed disbelief, but Janet pressed on to tell me that she had been in a serious relationship with a man twelve years before. They had discussed marriage and she felt her world was nearly perfect. Then polio struck. Her beau had quickly exited the relationship, leaving her broken hearted as she underwent months of physical therapy. For some time she clung to the belief that she would learn to walk again and be able to resume a normal life. But the years passed and Janet fell into a routine of helping her single mother, sadly believing no man would ever want her again.

“That’s ridiculous,” I said indignantly. “You are a fabulous woman. You’re pretty, you’re smart. You have lots going for you. “

“And one big thing going against me,” replied Janet, slapping one leg. “Apparently for everybody except you, Marty.” Without another word, she pulled herself up and made her way across to the windows. She turned and looked at me.

“Wait here a minute.” She swung off toward the bedrooms. I had no idea what to expect. I was still reeling from being caught with my manhood raging out of control. But my emotional roller coaster had just left the platform. After a couple of minutes Janet returned to me wearing gray metal cuffs on her arms…and nothing else.

She stood in front of me, leaning forward into the forearm crutches that I found so exciting. Her breasts were beautifully shaped and hung elegantly. From the waist up she was nearly perfect, her stomach flat and her skin smooth and creamy. Her face was apprehensive, but the smile remained. The green eyes flashed resolve.

“What do you think of me, Marty?” she asked quietly.

“I think you are beautiful. Just beautiful,” I breathed.

“What would you like to do? You can do anything you want.” Janet’s words seemed surreal. I was in a state of complete shock, although my erection remained in its full glory.

“I, I, uh…I’d really love to kiss your legs. Would you mind?”

“I’d love it. Come here, big boy. The crippled girl is ready for you.”

I nearly fell over myself as I moved to the floor in front of Janet. I got to my knees as she stood over me. Carefully, she moved each crutch in turn outward to widen the gap between them. She then placed all her weight on them as I gingerly took each of her flaccid legs in my arms in turn. I began at her feet, her toenails now pedicured bright pink, and kissed and licked my way up each leg in turn, finally burying my face between her thin thighs. I could feel the moisture from her own arousal on my forehead. I stood and put my arms around her somewhat clumsily, our faces meeting. Janet took the initiative and kissed me passionately, her tongue probing my mouth wildly. I had never kissed a girl, much less a woman, like this, and I was unsure what to do, although I wanted her desperately.

“Let’s go to my bedroom,” she breathed. With that she broke from me, rebalanced herself, and swung out of the room. I followed eagerly, still in complete disbelief that all of this was happening. We got to the bedroom and Janet fell onto the bed, throwing the crutches down to the floor. Stretching out, she told me to take my clothes off. She giggled upon seeing my double underwear, but had the taste not to ask about it. Fully disrobed I climbed on the bed and she pulled me to her, kissing me passionately again.

“Marty, look…I could get pregnant and I don’t have any condoms, so we can’t really make love, OK?” she breathed.

I was more than OK with that. I was still a virgin, but didn’t want to be obvious about my inexperience with a woman. I mumbled my agreement with relief.

“But, she continued, I don’t want to let you down. So, I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you turn around and kiss my legs again. I love that, I really do. And I’ll do something for you.”

Again, I felt that I was in a more arousing wet dream than I had ever actually had. I followed Janet’s instructions and turned myself around on the bed. My feet now were on the pillow by her pretty face, and I was on my stomach.

“Turn over, Marty,” Janet murmured. “I want to see that great big thing of yours again.”

Again, I meekly followed instructions and turned over. My face was now at her feet and I impulsively took the toes of one foot in my mouth. Janet sat up and began stroking my cock…gently at first, tickling and delicately probing. She then forcefully grasped me with one hand and began pumping while massaging my scrotum with the other hand. In less than 15 seconds I exploded in the most astounding orgasm I have ever had—to this very day. My first sexual encounter with a woman remains the most exciting, and few men can say that.

After a few moments of silent bliss I moved back around and kissed Janet. She whispered that she would like me to kiss her breasts and I happily agreed. While I obliged Janet’s request she used her fingers to pleasure herself, gently moaning until she shuddered with her own orgasm and then lay weeping in my arms. I had no idea what to say, so I simply stroked her breasts with my hand and held her close.

After a time we both got up and silently dressed. I made the excuse that I had to get home and mow our lawn and left as quickly as I could without appearing to run. I had to sort out my feelings and I was fairly sure she did, too. I didn’t return for a week.

Subsequent Saturdays at Janet’s were routine. We did chores together and talked, but the subject of our lovemaking never resurfaced, oddly enough. I knew that we had a special tenderness for each other that probably would never lead to the bedroom again, and also oddly, I didn’t mind. I had loved the woman of my dreams, my crippled fantasy goddess, that one wonderful Saturday morning, and that was enough. We developed an ever-stronger friendship over time that has endured without sex.

Janet Abbott is an amazing woman. And, to my way of thinking, I am an amazingly fortunate man.