Your erotic stories

"Amputation IS sex, the stump is just the afterglow," Julie told her roommate and dear friend of nearly a year. She sat next to Sara, the left leg over the right, swinging idly back and forth without a foot. Sara was honest with herself. She enjoyed neither hand and a touch of her forearm on tender parts thrilled her greatly.

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I was an only child. Dad was an attorney for one of those multi-name places, something like Smith, Smith, and Jones. Never quite knew what he really did, that is what an attorney does, I just knew he left in the morning and usually was home for dinner. Weekends he played golf, went fishing, things like that. Never with Mom. They seemed to have very separate lives.

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While driving to Jonni's place, Ross reflected back to the days when he first met her. It was a time when parties were happening with great regularity and every party brought new faces. But Jonni, like Ross, had been two of the regulars at those parties.

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It had been a year since Surgeons had removed Fern's left leg just a few inches below her hip. She was now very adept and comfortable with her one leggededness and she and her husband Don had grown to enjoy the difference from other couples that they shared.

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The last three years since finishing a Masters in Math, I've been teaching at a small college. Other than that, my life is lonely. I don't wish it to be. It is. Not many women fit my fantasy. It is all I can do to contain my emotions when she walks into my second year math class. I know I will be a wreck. "I'm Amy Glass," she says as she hands me the admission slip.

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Mark finished and fell to one side of Maggie, his cock still erect. She rolled onto her side and pecked at his lips, a hand massaged the gooey cock helping another small stream gush out and land on his stomach. "You fucked me good darling," she cooed. "Twice this evening, just what has gotten into you?" She giggled still pulling on his cock. Her mouth covered his and her tongue drifted inside.

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Roger had seen the couple every Saturday morning about the same time for the past month. It is impossible to not remember such a beautiful woman with a hook for one hand and an empty sleeve. Unfortunately, the same man is with her each time. She wears a wedding ring on a chain around her neck, dangling just above the start of very fine cleavage.

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Hot, parched, in need of at least a beer, I crutched into the darkened bar and though the blue haze of cigarettes and reek of days old beer. I was surprised that it would be so busy at nearly three in the afternoon. Maybe everyone else was thirsty I thought. The stool scraped across the floor in a loud symphony of un-tuned instruments. I rested my hips on it then leaned my crutches against the edge of the bar.

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Donna Faircloth was energized, turned-on and kneeling on the kitchen floor, giving her husband a surprise blowjob he'd never forget. She'd just come home with her emotions in overdrive after a daylong workshop on conducting group encounter sessions.

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I had found my wife's stash of pictures, mostly women missing one or both legs, a few men at the bottom of the pile. I resisted letting her know, instead I spent time searching the net to learn about her fascination. There are hundreds of fictional stories about people wanting to be with amputees, but I stumble upon a few where some actually want a limb amputated.

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