I settled into the airplane seat next to my friend Suzie and buckled up. It was a relief to be sitting still. The last twenty four hours had been hectic with preparation. Now we could relax for at least the length of the trip to the Caribbean.
As we settled in we quietly had the conversation that we had been through a hundred times before. No, we're not lesbians - we're interested in guys. We aren't exactly bi because we only do it with each other. And besides, we always thought it was better when guys are there - or at least one guy.
But I should start at the beginning. That was when Suzie phoned me the day before. She was working in a travel agency specializing in travellers with disabilities. She said that she had a fabulous flight and hotel deal for one night on an island in the Caribbean. It would cost us almost nothing. She told me to pack as we were leaving the very next morning.
I told her she was crazy and it was useless to fly thousands of miles for only one night and then have to turn around and come home. (Maybe it was hundreds of miles - I wasn't sure exactly where the Caribbean was.) Even if it was almost free it wasn't worth it.
But then she convinced me. She said the magic words "topless beach." I agreed immediately. I love showing off my boobs!
But now I have to go back to an earlier beginning when I was thirteen years old. That was when I lost my legs and got my breasts almost at the same time. Uncle Milton was driving (and drunk as usual). He missed a stop sign and drove into the path of a gravel truck. The truck hit my side of the car. I woke up in the hospital and was gradually told that my legs were gone - the left below the knee and the right one above. (Uncle Milton was fine, except for the DUI conviction and losing his license.)
But while I was in the hospital, my breasts started to blossom. I came to think of them as compensation for my lost legs. I know that makes no sense, but that was how I felt. I guess I still feel that way.
I used a wheelchair for the first year I was at home. It was good to be home and in my own bedroom after the public life of the hospital. I could close the door and even lock it. Then I would roll my chair to my dressing table and then inspect my new naked breasts in the mirror.
They were large. They were firm. Their nipples protruded when it was cold and when I touched myself in the right place . (Or was it in the wrong place?) The haloes that I learned to call "areolas" were pink and the size of half dollars. I spent part of every evening watching myself.
Soon after I began my nightly ritual, I realized that Wendell was watching me through the window. His bedroom in the house next to ours was directly across from my room. Since I was a girl, I had never bothered about drawing my shades. What for? Then one night I saw the curtains rustle in the darkened room next door. I immediately knew it was Wendell. I felt a little thrill, knowing I was being watched.
Now, Wendell was about my age but a real dweeb. I wouldn't have anything to do with him at school or in the neighborhood. But the idea of him watching me made me feel really good.
I began to perform for him. Sometimes, I would stroke my breasts and finger my nipples. I imagined the effect on Wendell. Once in a while I would draw my shades to tease him. I would do that after rolling my chair to the window to give him a full frontal view. Once at the window, I would peer all around outside and then stare directly at his window. I could see the curtains move as he drew back inside. Then I would abruptly draw my shades. I laughed at his disappointment.
After a year, I was fitted with prosthetic legs and could walk around school with a kind of rolling gait. I took attention from my legs and my walk by dressing sexy and revealing on top. I wore tight sweaters and blouses. I loved anything that was low cut and showed a lot of cleavage.
I didn't have many dates in the ordinary sense. Mostly the boys wanted to feel my boobs (and other places) but didn't want to be seen with me in public. They felt good but I kept aloof from them. In the evenings I continued to tease Wendell. Then in the bed and out of his sight, I learned to please myself.
Anyway, that is the history of my boobs and my legs that aren't there. That is why I was eager to go with Suzie to the Caribbean. I wanted to be seen!
But, before I can tell that story, I have to tell you about Suzie and me and about how I met her. We were alone and naked in the locker room of our health club. Suzie struck up a conversation with me and said that she heard some guys talking about me and how nice my boobs are. I was pleased. She wondered what my breasts look like. She also said that she would like to know what her breasts look like, too.
I forgot to tell you that Suzie is blind. That's why she didn't know what we looked like. I described hers to her as well as I could. They were middle sized and pointy. "Perky" would describe them. I thought they were beautiful and I told her so. She was pleased.
Then she asked about mine. I'm not really good with words and I stumbled about searching for the right ones. Then she asked if she could see for herself. I was surprised but I said that she could. Her touch was wonderful and she took her time to explore every inch of them.
Then I asked if I could look at hers in the same way. She only smiled and then I did. Our pleasure was interupted by two middle aged fat ladies who entered noisily into the locker room.
After that, Suzie and I started to hang out together. We cruised the bars and clubs together. We picked up guys - sometimes only one guy. If we didn't get lucky we always had each other.
Afterwards, we always had the same conversation. No, we are not lesbians, we told ourselves - we are interested in guys. We aren't exactly bi because we only do it with each other. And besides, we always thought it was better when guys were there - or at least one guy.
Now you can understand why we were on the plane and on the way to the Caribbean together.