Ling made the transfer from her office wheelchair to her powered travel chair, then powered out to her van, where she made another transfer into the driver's seat. Luckily for me, the power chair came apart with a couple of pins, into two heavy pieces. Under her direction, I stowed both pieces in her van, exactly where and how she said.
I could see that, if she were alone, she could have reached each piece by herself, assemble it and make the transfer from van to chair. She had to do all these transfers because she couldn't walk on her surgically-shortened legs. She kept falling over, even using 2 short canes and bent way forward.
Ling drove me to her house, up on Silvergate Drive, in Point Loma. I'd seen cars adapted to legless folks before, using all hand controls, and was glad to see the automatic transmission, power brakes and power steering. Her van had two big batteries, one a deep-discharge marine kind. All that helped. On the side of the van, there was a large door, with a power lift, which we hadn't used, this time.
Ling's house was, on the outside, a typical suburban single-story rancher. Nothing special on the outside, except for the ramps in front and in the back. She powered open the garage door and pulled the van inside. As I got out of the passenger seat and walked around her van to take out the power chair, she giggled and said, "No, don't. I have an in-home chair I use. Pick me up and carry me inside. I'll tell you how to do it. You'll like it. So will I."
She giggled again.
Ling instructed, "OK, Mike, pick me up with your strongest hand. No not that way, spread your fingers wide and put your hand right under my butt, so your palm is under my pubic bone. OK, now put your middle finger right on my butt-hole and push in. Little bit. Great, like that. That feels really good in my ass. Now work your thumb inside my pussy hole. Squeeze both together, like you'd be picking up something with those two fingers. Yeh, that's it. Wiggle-wiggle. Oh, fuck, that feels good. Now support my middle back with your other hand. Ahhhh, that feels so nice, you'd better get me into the house before I come and squirt all over your hand."
"Upses-Daisy!"
Somehow, I made it to Ling's back door, squeezing her two 'holes' as I was walking up the back-door ramp, which she opened with the pushbutton-code on her key ring.
Well, we almost made it. She came and squirted all over my hand and arm as I stepped through the door's threshold. Ling screamed in a muffled voice, having stuffed the hem of her dress in her mouth. Naturally, it was the front of her dress, so she was all but nude as I squished through the kitchen, then put her on the low couch in her living room.
Following more directions, I stripped her nude, got out of my own clothes and buried my raging hard cock so deep in her cunt that I thought it might come out her back. No licking, no kissing, no anything else but penetrating her sloppy-wet sex. I thrust and pushed, in-and-out, while she screamed out loud, thrashing around, her shortened legs banging against my sides. Her boobs bounced round on her chest, as she slid down to an on-her back position.
I banged her even harder, shouting that she was an 'Asian slut," and to "show me how a slut squirts." She did. Loudly. Obscenely. With filthy words of encouragement. "Fuck me, fuck me, come on guy, you can't hurt this little Asian slut with your big cock, fuck me. Harder. Deeper. Yeah, like that, just like that. Squeeze my tits, twist my nips. All the way up inside. In my ass, anal, that's right. I'm your slut. Fuck Me!"
I came inside her. She screamed, "Yes, yes, yes, yes. Fill me up. I can't get pregnant. We're both clean. Fuck me with your bare cock all the time. Slut! Fuck Janice, too, when she's off her period, 'cause I wanna watch."
She screamed some more, humping up at me, as my cock softened, but wouldn't stop grabbing at me or working her hips until I got completely soft and fell out. Not having half her legs, ankles or feet, she couldn't lock her legs around me, but she battered my kidneys with her thighs. I thought I might have bruises tomorrow on my flanks.
We both gasped for enough air to survive for a minute or so. Ling quietly said, "Damn, man, your wife was a fool to let you and that cock go. What was she thinking?"
I said, a bit sadly, "I don't believe she was 'thinking' at all. It was completely emotion and impulse. In the last 3 years, she listened to her divorced friends and ate up courses on Women's Studies at the University. She was always impulsive, but usually had it under control, but not anymore. The next impulse fed off the previous one. Just rationalized, justified, and excused, as she first lied to me, then lied to herself. She came to believe her own lies. Eventually, she lied about the lies she lied about."
"She said that I was too too predictable, too loving, too 'vanilla.' She said she wanted 'rough' sex, and that she needed 'a little excitement, a little danger' in her life. Her bad-boy lover, Jorje Martinez, was providing that. So she flew off to Mexico to join him at his drug-distributing rancho, as his American slut-mistress."
"She thought that she'd be back in a year or so, 'having gotten it out of her system' and that, when she got back—since she 'spiced-up' our sex life—we could get on with our married life and just forget all this ever happened."
"Of course, I knew better. Over the next months, she'd get the 'itch' again, and it would quickly become a steady stream of men in and out of the house. In and out of her lying cunt, too. No thanks."
"So I divorced her, filing as soon as she flew away. I gave her a lot of money and paid off her credit cards. We have no kids."
Ling said, "What now? You get the house sold. You've turned off your phone, so you won't get begging calls from your ex-wife. You gave her a lot of extra money. So what about you? Where do you go from here?"
I grinned, kinda exhausted, because I'd just come twice. I said, "Ling, it looks like I'm staying here. I'd like that, very much. But I can't fuck or make love all the time. For instance, I need you to follow me out to La Mesa, to trade in my old car and get a new one, maybe a Jeep with 4-wheel drive."
Ling asked, "I can understand why you're selling the house, because of all the bedroom stuff. Why the car, though?"
I twisted my face in recent memory, saying, "Because Connie had sex in the car with Jorje. It has sperm-stains on the side and back seats and it stinks of spilled sex-juice and tequila. I'll get it washed, vacuumed, cleaned and detailed first, but I gotta get rid of it, soonest."
"What to do next? I haven't the faintest idea right now. I'm not hurting for money. Why don't we explore some options while we eat, over the dinner I want to take you to, as my date, tonight? That is, after you take a bath or shower, get cleaned up and sleep a little."
"You'd probably better get dressed in something, too, because you're totally naked and oozing cum down your thigh."
Ling preened her naked boobs a moment, then realized what I just said.
Her almond-shaped eyes got big as she wondered, "You really wanna take a legless woman in a wheelchair out on a date? Tonight? In public? Mike, you are the strangest dude I've come across in a dozen years. I knew you were something else, when you walked into my office a month ago, to ask me to sell the house you were living in, with your wife still there, in that house."
"You remember what you did, then. It was cool and foggy, that day, and I was a little chilled. I shivered, just once. Before I could call Janice to get my jacket from the closet, you ran out to your car and got two soft wool blankets, which you put over my thighs and around my shoulders."
I chuckled, as I remembered, "Well, OK, but I also remembered that you leaned forward, so that the blanket could drop down your back, and the front of your silk Chinese dress fell damn-near off. You weren't wearing any bra and I could see both your boobs and, I, uh ..."
She giggled again, and said, "Five seconds to flip off all three of the 'frogs' that held my top on. I really liked doing that. But then you looked for the office chair that had the lowest seat and moved it around to my desk, so that your head wasn't towering over me. That was really polite."
I kind of said, "Uh, well, uh ... oh shit, busted! That way, I could look up under your dress hemline and look at your thighs, there in the shadow, under your dress and the white wool throw I'd put over your lap."
Ling laughed out loud, saying, "Mike, did you ever wonder just how it was that the white wool throw you put over my leg-ends suddenly didn't cover my leg-ends or even up about half-way up my thighs?"
I covered my hands over my eyes, as I said, "Oh, damn, busted again."
