The Journal

Until I'd found Jim's diary (I think guys call them journals), I hadn't a clue that he felt like he did. It must have been such an awful thing, to have such desire and such longing, and to believe that he must never let me know. At first I admit that I was shocked. As I read further, however, my shock changed first to sorrow and compassion for his struggle, and later to awareness and excitement as I dedicated myself to making his dreams come true.

June 23, 2007~

11:37 p.m.: I got to the hospital just as they brought Ann into recovery. She looked awful, all swollen and bandaged. They said it may be hours before the Dr. can see me. The drunk who hit her died a little while ago and I have to admit I felt this fierce joy, until I saw his wife and daughter as the Dr. told them. They are victims as much as Ann is.

June 24, 2007~

2:15 a.m.: The Dr. just got done with the others. Everybody will be fine. A little boy riding his bike got a broken arm when the spare tire from the drunk's car hit him.

He spent a few minutes talking to me, and all I remember is him saying, 'It will be a long road, but she'll be able to do anything she wants.'

I don't care how long it takes, as long as she is alive.

5:30 a.m. ~

They let me go to her as soon as I proved we lived at the same address and that her DNR had me on it. I got lightheaded when I realized how close I had come to using it. Her beautiful face is swollen and they have some kind of green goo on the sides of her neck and chin. They tell me it is to prevent scarring from the burns. She has a trach tube, and the nurse said they don't know whether it will be permanent or not, but that her trachea was badly damaged. Her left arm is gone halfway between her shoulder and her elbow, her right at the wrist. God help me if she ever finds out about me. I am more scared than I have ever been. I don't think I could bear to lose her.

I hope she doesn't hate me.

They tell me that Jim stayed beside me for six days and nights. I don't remember much. Apparently, because of the amnesia-inducing effects of the drugs I was on, he had to tell me about my arms and voice several times, and he cried every time. The nurses said they had never seen anything like him for his steadfast determination and devotion. There were more surgeries, including taking my right arm at the elbow and making the tracheostoma permanent. My voice box was beyond repair, so they connected my throat directly to my stomach, and gave me a hole at the base of my neck to breathe through.

I was unable to communicate at all for a while. The only sound I could make was a low hissing as I cried. Jim never left my side.

July 1, 2007~

It's been a long week. Ann's parents were here, although I don't think she knew. They were about as broken up as you would think. They left for Montana yesterday, and I said we may come and stay for a while after Ann gets out of therapy. The physical therapists say it will take a while for her stumps to heal enough to accept permanent prosthetics, and that without elbows, they will be inefficient at best. After a few phone calls, we found that we can get them fitted in Bozeman if we need to. Ann just looked straight ahead for a long time. She cried a lot initially, but now I think she's just depressed. Who wouldn't be? Her stumps jerk around a lot, and the Dr.'s say it's because her brain isn't used to the weight of her arms being gone yet, and that it may take years to go away, if ever.

I spoke to the speech pathologist today, and he told me how to help her communicate a little. We'll see if it works. I can't believe I'll never hear her voice again.

The Dr. said I can change her dressings from now on. My God, My God. What's going to happen to us?

Jim was standing beside me on July first, and he put a straw in my mouth. I drank, and recoiled a little when I realized it was pop. I couldn't taste much then, partly due to trauma, and partly because no air moves through my nose or mouth anymore. I think I thought it was going to burn going down, since my throat was still sensitive, but it didn't.

Then, what happens to just about everyone happened to me…I burped. As I did, I distinctly heard myself say "Whoa!" Jim's eyes met mine and I started to laugh. It came out as a hiss, of course, but it still felt great! I started to flap my stumps and make sucking motions with my lips. Jim stuck the straw in my mouth and I took a big drink. I'd kind of forgotten how to swallow for a while there, since I didn't really need to for liquids. They just roll down my throat and into my stomach.

Anyway, I felt the bubble form in my stomach, and I let it out, looked at Jim and said, "I love you!" He pulled me to him and basically just broke down. How could I have been so awful to him, after the vigil he's held and the love that's still in his eyes? All at once, the hope floated back into view, and I determined that I would dedicate myself to overcoming this event. As he hugged me, I actually used my stumps to touch him. The sensations were very strange, almost like buzzing at the tips. Through all this, I became aware that my nipples were hard enough to cut glass, and I don't know why.

July 16, 2007~

I think we've turn a corner here. Ann has been chattering non-stop since she figured out the esophageal speech thing. The speech pathologist had been explaining it to her for a few days, and she didn't really seem to get it, and definitely didn't seem to care that she didn't get it. When he pulled me aside and told me about the soda thing, I tried it, and I'll be damned if it didn't work. She took a big drink of the Diet Pepsi, and burped, and when she did, I very plainly heard her say, "Whoa!" Her eyes lit up, her stumps started to wiggle (like my dick), and she started making this adorable sucking face, which really made me happy and horny all at the same time. I gave her another drink, and she looked right at me and burped, "I love you!"

She kind of patted my shoulders with her stumps, and I thought I was going to explode in m shorts.

July 18, 2007~

I slowly came out of sleep to the awareness that Ann was standing beside the recliner I've been sleeping in. She was silhouetted in the light showing through the door crack and shining through the thin blue and white printed fabric of the hospital gown. It was surreal, and truly beautiful. I don't know how I knew what to do, but I just reached out my hands and touched her hips, guiding her onto my lap. She knelt on me and leaned forward into a hug. She's short, just over five feet tall and very petite at 90 pounds, so when she leaned into me, her head rested on my chest. She tucked her head into my neck and nuzzled me with her lips. I brought my hands from her hips up to her back, and stroked up and down slowly, feeling her muscles and her ribs. I could feel her breath on my chest as it came out of the hole in her neck. It was warm, and soft, and I found it a reassuring and wondrous manifestation of my best friend's return to me. I untied the tie at her waist and then at her neck, and she sat up slowly as the gown fell forward onto my lap. She looked at me with lidded eyes and, very slowly, her right stump pressed against her breast, creating a fascinating bulge at the center of her chest, her left, much shorter stump just twitching endlessly, unable to reach its breast but creating lovely seismic waves in the satiny flesh. I flashed back to countless lovemaking episodes from the past.

Ann has known since high school that I am in love with her breasts. It's not that they're stripper or Playboy quality, actually to most, they might seem misshapen. They are large for a petite woman (30D), but have always been pendulous and very mobile, even in high school, when they were nearly new. Every movement she makes is amplified by her tits, down to small motions like breathing. They hang low on her chest, her nipples projecting out and down just before the curve at the bottom, which is level with her navel. Her nipples. My God, her nipples! They rise, or rather nearly descend from, her breasts, absolutely without warning. Ann has no aureoles whatsoever. Her nipples project out over an inch when erect, and they are always erect. Pebbled and nearly purple when aroused, they are exactly 5/8 of an inch in diameter. I know this because I have hung a drill index card on each of them when I made her a pair of sterling silver nipple rings to put on them.

Just three weeks ago, we made love in the early twilight, the illumination very much like that in the room now. Ann sat astride my hips, my semi-hard cock trapped under her pubis as I awoke to find her in exactly the same position she assumed this morning. Her hair fell about her face, and she leaned forward, eyes lidded and locked on mine, her arms crossed, hands grasping opposite elbows, and then sliding together. As they did, they compressed her breasts together, creating a deep cleavage. Her nipples popped out of her elbow creases onto her forearms, like little animals poking their heads out of hiding. She leans back, releasing her breasts and they fall outward and then slap against her chest with a soft sound. I reach out and clasp her hands in mine, our fingers intertwining as she rises up and lets my cock find it's way unerringly into her sheath. She sighs and slides down my length, her lubricant just slick enough to allow the motion, until I am contained within her body. Her hairless mound, lasered smooth years ago as a birthday present to me presses against my abdomen. As she settles, it looks almost as if I have grown a second small penis. Her pubic mound projects and her crease begins very high upon it, her large clitoris in its fleshy case totally above the curve. I have never seen its equal, either in size or in placement. Ann's first orgasm with me took place at our senior prom. We were slow dancing, and as we moved, she slid slightly sideways on me until she was in a position to straddle my thigh. Instead, she pushed straight against me with her legs together, which pinched her clit between her pubic bone and my thigh. As she became more and more aroused, her clit swelled until I could feel it plainly against me. By the time the dance had ended, her hips had begun to thrust against me, in time with the tiny grunts she uttered, until she sagged in my arms, her orgasm achieved in front of all her classmates.

This morning, weeks and worlds later, my Ann looks at her right breast, compressed with her stump, then looks back to me, her message plain. I put my hands under her flesh and lift, thumbing her nipples. She looks at me again and shakes her head slowly, looks at her nipple again. I push it outward, within the reach of her stump, and the gauze wrapped nub beckons toward it, and then makes contact, deflecting the spongy teat as it pushes it around in a tiny circle. Her hips have begun to buck lazily, and I am hard beneath them. I release her breasts to lower my sweat pants, and Ann rises a little to give me room, then inches down my cock, her eyes closed and a smile forming on her lips. My right thumb goes to her clit and my left to her tits, her left nipple between my thumb and forefinger, her right between my ring and little fingers. She sits still, her powerful muscles grasping my penis in a velvet vise as I slide her clitoris side to side. Her face contorts in pleasure and the breath at her trach begins to puff, hissing softly. She has always been a screamer, to our occasional embarrassment, and I realize that she is mouthing her favorite mantra, "Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" The only sounds in the room are the liquid sounds from the saliva in her mouth and the passion issuing from the opening in her throat. She shudders as she cums, her head jerking and her stumps flailing wildly. She settles and I reach up and cup her stumps gently in my hands. Her eyes snap open and a fierce smile appears on her face. As she gave my cock a final squeeze with her pussy, she rotated her stumps inside my hands. As I felt the abbreviated bones moving inside the fleshy ends, I came with a muffled grunt. My fantasy, left buried and subsumed to guilt had come true, and I was in the presence of the most beautiful girl in the world, she was the amputee I'd always seen in my wildest of dreams. I looked into her sage green eyes.

And that is when she knew.

I awoke with a start in the predawn glow, and I realized with a smile that I was really, really horny. I felt as if a threshold had been crossed, and that I needed to return to normal, or as close as normal was going to be. I kicked off my sheet and stood, wavering as I caught my balance, my stumps rotating uselessly. I could feel the remnants of my left fingers, my fist tightly closed, and I discarded the mental image. My right forearm, however, felt as if it had been folded backwards along the outside of my upper arm. That phantom was harder to banish. I padded to the bathroom and peed, sitting until I stopped dripping, unable to wipe. The air down there felt cool on my lips, but I didn't think it was urine causing the dampness.

I stood and walked quietly to the foot of the chair Jim slept in, and looked at him. He hadn't been taking very good care of himself, and it worried me because I knew it was my fault. That was going to stop today.

He stirred, and I smiled as he looked at me. A look of wonder came over his face, and my heart swelled as I saw the manifestation of love on his countenance. I needed to be near him, and he knew it, placing his warm strong hands on my hips and guiding me to his lap. As I settled I leaned into him, savoring the feeling of his hands on my ass, his prickly beard on my temple. His smell was gone, and I nearly cried as I realized again that I'd lost more than my voice, my arms. Without movement through my nostrils, my sense of smell was nearly gone. I kissed him gently, sneaking my tongue out to taste his skin. His hands caressed my back and sides, and I felt his love on my skin. My heart thrilled as I realized he was untying my gown, and I realized that I didn't care if someone caught us making out. I sat back and let the gown fall from my body, puddling on his lap for a moment until he discarded it on the floor. I looked at him and felt the familiar jolt deep in my belly as his eye focused on my breasts. It was nice to know that I could still make that look appear on his face, that primal "I have got to touch those" look that I adored. I would normally have framed my boobs with my arms to create my famous cleavage, but that wasn't ever happening again, so I did the next best thing. I pushed my boob sideways with my right stump and, sure enough, his eyes went to the center of my chest as if the cleavage were still there. I even got a little wiggle out of my left tit when my tiny left stub flicked it. Jim followed my eyes and pushed my right boob out to where I could touch my nipple with my stump. The gauze felt pleasantly rough on my sensitive nipple, kind of like a dry tongue as I moved my remnant against it. I felt the pressure of my nipple on what would have been the skin on the outside of my elbow. Weird.

Jim moved his pants down, and I settled on his wonderful cock. The feeling of a part of his body going inside of mine never failed to bring me the most intense physical and emotional pleasure, and it did so especially intently this time.

I sighed, and although the air blew up against the bottom of my chin instead of out of my open mouth, it still sounded like a sigh.

I believe that I was blessed with the most awesome tits and clit in the world, and as Jim's hands found them, I fell in love with them all over again.

I didn't always feel that way. In fact, high school was awful for me. My boobs were low slung, my nipples were enormous, looking like someone had driven purple spikes into the bottom curve of my breasts since I had no aureoles at all. I just went from white skin directly to nipples. The other girls had these pert, bouncy little cones and these rosy wide circles around their tiny little beads, and I got stuck with these bananas flopping around with every single movement I made. My clitoris was positively obscene, if you asked most girls. They had these tiny cute mounds with their clit tucked down and out of the way inside their mysterious little slits. Not me. Mine was mounted on my protruding mound like a fucking hood ornament. Dark and fleshy, it stuck out so far that my pubic hair couldn't possibly hide it, and when I got horny, it got even bigger. My labia were just as bad. My outer lips were non-existent, not even little swells, but my inner lips made up for it by being huge purplish flaps that hung down so far that I occasionally sat on them. In the shower after gym, I used to tuck them up inside me and wedge them in with a tampon, at least until I realized one afternoon that the tampon had gotten soaked with water and was about to fall out of me in the shower. After that I quit gym with my mom's permission. I didn't wear a swimsuit without a skirt on it until I met Jim.

Jim thought I was beautiful. The first time he got to see my pussy, he dropped to his knees and said, "That is the sexiest pussy that has ever existed. I have to have it!" I nearly died of embarrassment on the outside, but inside, I was in heaven.

As he held my nipples in one hand (A feat I didn't know was possible once), pulling and pinching, and thumbed my clit with the other, I knew that we were going to be OK. I retreated into the primordial sensations of mating, and only subliminally realized that my "Fuck me!" chant was silent. When I came, I opened my mouth and silently howled my pleasure, realizing that never again would I wake up the neighborhood with my fucksounds. As I realized that I had been sitting immobile on Jim's staff, I leaned forward, intending to put some "motion in our ocean". When I did, I instinctively leaned forward to place my forever missing hands on Jim's shoulders. When he caught my stumps in his hands, I was pleased to realize that the contact didn't hurt, but actually produced another gyration in my pussy. I rotated my arm stubs in Jim's palms, feeling the smooshy movement of my bones sliding inside my skin. When I looked into Jim's eyes, he was focused on my stumps with that "I have to touch these things" look. Then our eyes met, and I felt his cock pulse as he came, filling me to overflowing with his seed.

He loved me! Even wrecked, and mute, forever silent and crippled, HE LOVED ME!

So why was there guilt in his eyes?

Thursday, August 9, 2007~

It's been a hectic couple of weeks. Ann came home on the 1

st

of August, and we spent a nice weekend visiting with her parents, who arrived on the 3

rd

. Spent some time with Becky, Ann's mom, which was interesting. We've never really gotten along, but we went shopping for groceries while Annie napped on Saturday afternoon and her dad Bill played golf with some cronies. We got a couple of coffees on the way into the store, and Becky took me aside and just held onto me for a while. When she stood back, she was crying. "I want you to know how sorry I am for being less than accepting of you, Jim. I never believed you were good enough for my Annie, and you have shown me how wrong even a mother can be. Ann thought the sun and the moon revolved around you before the accident, but now, I think you've become a saint to her. I'm sorry I've been a bitch, Jim, and I hope you'll accept my apologies."

Well, shit. What do you say to that? I gave her a hug, saying something about how important she and Bill were to me, and how we wanted to come spend some time with them at the ranch in Montana and such. I asked if they could stay a couple of days so I could go to Chicago on business, and she perked right up and began to plan. What I didn't tell her was that the IPO on my business came in much, much better than I'd hoped, and that, as soon as some signings were done, I would be disturbingly wealthy and totally retired. I had some surprises up my sleeve for both of them and Ann, and I left a reticent Ann in their care and flew out on Monday, the 6

th

. I left Chicago on the 7

th

, taking the red-eye to Denver, then Bozeman. I concluded my deal there on the 8

th

and got home about 10:00 a.m. this morning.