Hello. I'm Michelle, and this is my story. Part 1 to 6

 

Hello, I’m Michelle, and this is my story.
Part 1

I hate describing myself, but here we go. I’m your typical administrative assistant by day, organized, polite, and a little quiet. But after hours? Let’s just say I have a secret. A beautiful, burning secret.

I have a fetish. There, I said it.

Not just for silky lingerie, or lace, or garters, though those definitely light me up. My number one obsession and sexual attraction? Leg casts. And crutches.

I’m thirty, five-ten with long blonde hair and blue eyes. I’ve kept my athletic figure from my college volleyball days at Penn State. People say I come off as both shy and confident. Maybe because I know I’ve got this whole other world inside me that nobody sees.
 

Well, almost nobody.

Ever since I was a teenager, I’d felt something strange when I saw someone, girl or guy with a leg in a cast. Vulnerability, strength, beauty... all wrapped into one. It wasn’t just curiosity. It was pure fascination. A real sexual turn-on.

I know it sounds odd, but if you don’t get it, you might want to turn the page.

Sindy, my best friend, redheaded, green-eyed, and a nurse at a local clinic, is the only one who truly knows me. We’ve been inseparable for years. One wine-filled Friday night, curled up on her couch with our feet tucked under a blanket, I finally told her.

“Sindy, I have to tell you something,” I said, nervously spinning my wine glass between my fingers.

She raised an eyebrow, smiling. “Spill it. You’ve always been a mystery box.”

I took a breath. “I have this… obsession. I’m really into leg casts. Like, really into them.”

She blinked. “You mean… you like how they look?”

I nodded. “And how they feel. The way they change the way you move, the control they take away. The way people look at you. Everything.”

There was a pause and then that cheeky grin of hers. “You know... I could help with that.”

My heart skipped. “You mean, really?”

She leaned in and gave me a wink. “Let me cast you for a few days. For fun. Your own little secret injury.”

I nearly squealed. “You’d really do that?”

“Of course, silly. For my bestie? Absolutely.”

The next day, I met her at her clinic. My heart was racing. She had me lie back, and gently began wrapping my leg in soft cotton padding, her fingers moving slow and confident over my skin.

“You sure?” she asked, looking into my eyes.

I nodded, voice barely a whisper. “More than ever.”

She smiled. Then leaned forward, just for a second and kissed my cheek. And then, a little longer… kissed my lips. It felt sweet. Charged.

Then came the white fiberglass. Cool, wet, and smooth. I watched as she wrapped it around my leg, foot, calf, knee and thigh. My whole leg slowly disappears under a pristine white cast. We laughed and chatted as it hardened. She adjusted the shape expertly, her hands firm and professional. Finally, she stepped back to admire her work.

“There you go,” she said proudly. “A fresh full leg cast for your pretend broken tibia and fibula, Miss Michelle.”

I looked down. My broken leg in a leg cast from toe to thigh. It felt heavy and stiff... and incredible like nothing I had ever experienced before.
 

I whispered, “It’s perfect.”

Back at home, I couldn’t stop looking at it. Touching it. Admiring it. I slipped into a black cocktail dress, the fabric cool and soft against my skin. On my good leg, I pulled on sheer pantyhose, nude, glossy, silky. I slid on a stiletto, the heel clicking sharply on the hardwood floor. My cast was propped on the bed, pristine white and solid.

I grabbed my crutches. Took a breath. And stepped in front of the mirror.

Wow it looked so real, it looked like a very badly broken leg.

The contrast was stunning. Shiny nylon on one long leg. Smooth white cast on the other. My hips flared under the dress. My arms leaned slightly into the crutches, showing off my posture.
 

I traced my hand over the top portion of my cast. Slow. Deliberate. A shiver ran through me with my fingers inches from my vagina since the cast went so high on my leg.

“You look good injured, girl,” I whispered to my reflection.

I turned, caught glimpses from different angles. My cast made my legs look even longer. My shape is even more defined.  There she was. The real me. Powerful. Sensual. Exposed. And loving every second.

I hobbled slowly around my apartment, getting used to the rhythm of crutching. My hips swayed with each step. The confidence was… addictive. I paused by the window, looking out at the city below. The idea came to me so clearly I could taste it. 

I was going out tonight.

I packed a stylish backpack, touched up my red lipstick, and I locked the door behind me.
The night air hit my cheeks. Crisp. Clean. Exciting. The streetlights danced off my pantyhose and polished cast as I moved down the sidewalk.

I hailed a cab. The young driver’s eyes flicked to my broken leg as he got out to open the door and help me in. No words, just a subtle, stunned look.

“Where to, miss?” he asked, his voice a touch husky.

“Victoria’s Secret. Downtown. On Main.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask. Just smiled and nodded with his imagination running wild.

Part 2 to come.

Hello, I’m Michelle, and this is my story.
Part 2

The cab ride felt longer than usual and not because of the distance, but because of the way every bump and turn made my full leg cast shift ever so slightly. The rigid fiberglass hugged my left leg from mid-foot to upper thigh. My toes peeked out, freshly pedicured, painted red to match my lips. 

With my cast resting on the backseat, my fingertips gently traced the smooth curve above my knee. With every movement, a quiet thrill stirred inside me. When the car finally pulled up, I reached for my crutches, sleek, aluminum with soft black grips. 

I opened the door and slid my long cast out first, careful not to scrape it. I took my time, planted my heel on the pavement, and eased myself out, standing on one foot with the driver's help. I loved this feeling of managing, adapting, being bold in my vulnerability.

I crutched slowly toward the Victoria Secret boutique. The automatic doors slid open with a soft whoosh, and a little bell above chimed my arrival. The store smelled like roses. Satin, lace, and soft lighting surrounded me with pure sexual temptation. I felt like I’d just stepped into heaven.

And then I saw her again. Beautiful and sexy Bianca. She was my ex, before and after I was in a relationship with Pierre.

Sitting behind the glass counter in a sleek red wheelchair, she was impossible to miss. A gorgeous brunette with a leather mini skirt, a sheer red blouse that hinted at black lace beneath covering her perfect chest. Her long crippled legs rested motionless on the footrest. Her red patent 4-inch heels were strapped delicately to her footrest, their shine catching the boutique lights. Her wheelchair was stylish, matte black frame, narrow sporty wheels, clearly custom and high-end.

Her eyes landed on me, and stayed there. Or more precisely, on my cast. They slowly traveled from my exposed toes to the top of the cast peeking out beneath my short dress. Then they climbed the length of my body. She didn't blink. And when our eyes locked, something electric passed between us.

"Michelle," she said softly, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Welcome back. When did that happen? When did you break your leg?"

She rolled closer with elegant ease, her long hair swaying behind her shoulders, her breasts shifting subtly with each push of her wheels. She radiated confidence and power, sitting taller than most people standing.

"Two days ago," I said, my voice light, teasing. "Thought I’d make the most of it while I’m stuck like this for the next... six weeks." I can’t believe I said six weeks out loud. My heart was pounding. It was supposed to be one long weekend

Her eyes lingered on my cast. “It’s dramatic,” she said slowly, leaning forward just a little, her long finger nails sliding on my cast. “And honestly? It’s stunning. You wear it beautifully. The stiletto on your good foot is a nice touch. You are hours from breaking your other ankle”

God, the way she said it, pure sexual tease.

I bit my lower lip. “Thank you, you look amazing like always” I whispered, heat rising to my cheeks. Her compliment wrapped around me like silk.

Bianca turned smoothly, pushing herself backward toward the racks. Her wheels moved with a soft glide, effortless, like part of her body. Her hips swayed slightly with each roll. She was... mesmerizing. Sexy in a way that was quiet, knowing, and completely unashamed of who she was.

I began browsing, my crutches clicking lightly against the polished floor as I moved. I passed silks, laces, delicate thongs and sheer slips. I let my fingers slide along the materials, enjoying every soft brush. I stopped at a delicate pale-pink teddy and matching lace panties.

“I think I’ll try this one,” I said softly.

She smiled and gestured toward the fitting rooms. “The one in the corner is the most spacious. I can help you, if you'd like with that long cast of yours.”

I made my way, slowly, loving the rhythm of my movement. Crutches, step, crutches. The cast made everything deliberate. Slower. Sexier.

Once inside, I took my time. I undressed, very mindful of the weight of my cast. I peeled off my black dress, revealing my satin bra and panties. My broken leg was locked almost straight, the cast slightly bent at the knee was gleaming under the soft light. I sat gently on the small bench, slid the panties up carefully, then wriggled into the teddy. The pink lace hugged every curve. I adjusted the straps, smoothed the hem, and looked at myself in the mirror.

Long blond hair down. Skin flushed. Very hard and fully erected nipples Cast bold and perfect. I looked...different. Injured. Desirable.

There was a soft knock. "Everything okay?" Bianca’s voice, almost a whisper, floated through the door. I hesitated. But only for a second.

"Yes," I said, heart racing. "Come in."

She entered slowly in her chair, eyes widening as she took me in. I watched her expression. Her gaze slid from my lips to my full chest, to the teddy, and then she stopped at my leg. She stopped breathing for a minute.

“You look incredible,” she whispered, not hiding the hunger in her voice.

I stood on my good foot, balancing with one crutch, my cast barely one inch from the floor. 

“Do you like it?” I asked, teasing.

Her fingers hovered, then lightly touched the cast. The sensation of her fingertips brushing the fiberglass made my whole body react.

“It’s smooth,” she said, her voice husky. “And sexy. Unexpectedly. I never imagined...”

“That I’d feel this good wearing a long leg cast?” I asked, my voice matching her tone.

She nodded. Her eyes softened. “Or that you’d own your crutches like you do.”

Bianca’s hand trailed up my thigh to the edge of the teddy. Her fingers traced the hem, just beneath the edge of the cast. She moved in close, our bodies nearly touching. Her voice was lower now. 

“I can’t move my legs, Michelle. I haven't been able to since I was 17. But I’ve never felt... less powerful because of it.”

I stared at her, soaking in her strength, her honesty. “You’re... breathtaking,” I whispered. 

“Really.”

She grabbed my cast and placed it on her cripple legs. Her lips brushed my exposed toes slow and soft, as her hands explored the line of my waist. I gasped, melting into her. And for a moment, it wasn’t about disability or casts, it was about boldness. About being seen. About feeling desirable and choosing to embrace it.

She rolled back just slightly, her eyes locking onto mine.

"Can I …

Part 3 to come

Hello, I’m Michelle, and this is my story.
Part 3

"Can I kiss you?" she whispered.

I didn't speak. I leaned forward, my lips brushing hers gently at first, then with growing hunger. I felt so alive, balancing on my right foot, my left leg in this long fiberglass cast, and in another woman’s arms. 

What would Pierre say? It didn’t matter, I didn’t want this feeling to end.

“You’re so... perfect,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “So... untouched, barely broken.”

I smiled, my confidence growing with each passing hour. “I want you to touch me,” I said, my voice steady despite the nervous excitement coursing through me. “I want you to feel me.”

She nodded, her eyes meeting mine as she reached for my cast. She ran her fingers over the fiberglass, her touch sending shivers of pleasure through me even if I didn't feel her fingers. I gasped, my breath coming in soft gasps as she explored every inch of me.

“You’re so... beautiful,” she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper while slightly rotating her wheelchair. “So... alive.”

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. “Yes,” I said, my voice steady despite the nervous excitement coursing through me. “I am when it’s you touching me.”

She leaned in, her lips brushing against my ear. “I want to make you feel good,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I want to make you… cum with my tongue.”

I smiled, rubbing her crippled legs, as she kissed my neck, her lips tracing a path of fire down my skin. I could feel her desire, the way her lips pressed against my neck, kissing and licking almost sucking. It was intoxicating, the way she looked at me, the way she touched me. It was like no one had ever looked at me before, like no one had ever wanted me this much.

She rolled back, her eyes meeting mine. There was a hunger in her gaze, a desire that mirrored my own. I could see the questions in her eyes, the curiosity. I knew what she was asking, what she was hoping for. I reached out, my fingers brushing against her cheek.

“Yes, my broken leg is very sore but…” I lied, my voice barely above a whisper. “Please continue.”

She nodded, her eyes never leaving mine as she reached for the clasp of my bra. She unhooked it, her fingers brushing against my skin as she pulled it away. I moaned as she cupped my breasts, her thumbs brushing against my nipples.

She slid out of her wheelchair before me, her hands grabbed my cast as she pulled herself closer. I could see her crippled legs on each side of my cast, her lips brushing against my inner thigh.  She kissed me, her tongue tracing a path of fire down my skin.

She looked up at me, her eyes meeting mine as she slipped my panties down my long cast.  My heart pounding in my chest as she ran her fingers up my thighs, her touch delicate and reverent.

She leaned in, her tongue swirling around my clitoris. I gasped, my body arching as she sucked, her teeth grazing my sensitive flesh. I could feel the pleasure building, my body trembling as she licked and sucked, her fingers stroking my inner walls.

“You’re so... wet,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “So... ready despite having broken your leg so bad.”

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. “Yes,” I said, my voice steady despite the nervous excitement coursing through me. “I am because of my broken leg.”

She increased her pace, her tongue flicking faster against my clit as her fingers thrust in and out of me as she brought me closer and closer to the edge.

“Oh, God,” I moaned, my fingers tangling in her hair as I gripped her closer. “Yes... don’t stop... don’t stop...”

She didn’t. She continued to lick and suck, her fingers thrusting in and out of me until I couldn’t take it anymore. I came with a cry, my body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me.

She looked up at me, her eyes meeting mine as she licked her lips. “You taste so... good,” she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper.

I smiled, my body still trembling as I helped her back in her wheelchair. “Thank you, that was... incredible.”

She nodded, her eyes meeting mine. “The pleasure was all mine with your poor leg.” I smiled.

She rolled closer and helped me dress, her fingers brushing against my cast over and over as she pulled my clothes back on. I could see the desire in her gaze, the way her eyes lingered on my cast. I knew she was curious, perhaps even a bit aroused that I was in my cast. 

The idea of her long crippled legs in casts sent a thrill through me.

“I should go,” I said, adjusting the crutches under my arm as I looked at her. My voice was steady, but my heart was racing. Every inch of my skin felt alive.

Bianca nodded, her dark eyes still holding mine. “I know,” she murmured, her voice thick with something deeper than words. “But... I hope you’ll come back before that cast comes off and your leg is all healed.”

A soft smile curved on my lips. This was the moment I had to choose honesty but... “I broke both the tibia and fibula, I’ll be in it for months. And I promise, I’ll be back. On crutches.”

She blinked once, then smiled slowly “Good,” she whispered.

I shifted my weight to my good leg and turned toward the door. Each step, each swing of my hips as I balanced on my crutches, felt like part of a show for her and me. I looked at my cast extending from my upper thigh to midfoot with my toes peeking out,...the perfect show. 

The crutches clicked against the boutique’s smooth floor, echoing softly as I left. Outside, the night air wrapped around me. I paused at the curb, standing tall and proud, then pulled out my phone with one hand and ordered a ride.

The Uber pulled up within minutes and to my surprise…

Part 4 to come soon.

Hello, I’m Michelle, and this is my story.
Part 4

The Uber pulled up within minutes. A sleek black car, quiet and low, gliding up to the curb like it already knew I needed to be handled with care. The driver leaned out the window, young, beautiful, with a neat ponytail and warm, curious eyes.

He blinked when he saw me. My crutches tucked under my arms. My cast is almost straight and stiff, peeking out from my cocktail dress. My one stiletto heel clicking against the pavement as I shifted my weight. I saw the surprise and something else pass through his eyes like a flicker of light.

He sprang from the car. “Let me help you, miss,” he said softly, his voice a little breathy. His hand touched my arm as he steadied me. Not too firm, not too casual. Gentle. His gaze dropped again to my leg as I turned to settle myself inside the car.

I smiled. “Thanks.” I moved slowly, guiding my cast into the car, feeling the cool leather against the back of my thighs. The short and sexy dress slipped a little higher over my good leg, and his eyes caught it all. He clearly appreciated both the cast and my healthy strong leg.

He slid into the driver’s seat, pulling smoothly into traffic. We didn’t speak at first. I rested my fingertips on my cast, feeling the familiar rough fiberglass under my palm. Every few blocks, I’d sense him glance over. Curious. Fascinated. The air between us started to thrum with quiet sensual tension.

“So,” he finally said, “You broke your leg skiing, car accident, fall in the stairs? Or something more… let’s say creative?”

I turned toward him, smiled, curious myself. “I would say very creative,” I said simply, watching the edge of his mouth curl into a smile.

He nodded, eyes still on the road. “I thought so. Maybe I shouldn't tell you that but my girlfriend Dominique is into that too, the creative side. You see her mom writes all kind of very sensual and sexual fetish fiction”

“Oh really, and Dominique is creative how?”

“Well… She's applied more than one cast on me, legs, arms, sometimes both at once.” He laughed, sweet and nervous. “I mean… I’m usually the one driving her places in a dress and a recreational full arm cast.”

I blinked, startled, surprised and delighted. “Really?” My voice was bright with surprise. “That’s… actually amazing.”

He nodded, cheeks just a little pink. “We have fun with it. I love it, honestly. We play around with all kinds of looks, dresses, skirts, heels. I’ve been a ballerina in crutches. A man with a broken ankle in skinny jeans and a knee boot. I even went to a wedding once in a shoulder cast, full leg cast and a pink silk scarf while sitting in a wheelchair.”

Now I was the one staring. “That’s kind of very hot.”

He gave me a sideways glance, half-shy, half-bold. “You see Dominique is a lesbian and I’m a friend with benefits to her…I’m her sexual and fetish toy.  You really think it's hot?”

“I know so, Yes” I said, lifting my cast and resting it between the front seats, and his eyes dropped to it again, admiring without shame my exposed toes.

We pulled up in front of my building. He parked, then jumped out to help me again. His hand brushed my waist this time as I eased out of the car, my cast stretching in front of me as I leaned on my crutches.

“No tip necessary,” he said softly, standing close. “Honestly… this was my favorite ride of the year.”

I looked up at him, caught in his gaze trying to imagine him in 4 inch heels and a skirt with a full arm cast trying to please Dominique..Wow. “Mine too.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, then smiled. “If you ever want help rewrapping that cast, or maybe… switching roles…Threesomes” He handed me a small card. No name. Just a number. A little red lipstick kiss stamped at the corner in the shape of the letter D.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, sliding it into my bag with a wink.

As I hobbled toward the front door, my long cast leading the way, I could feel his eyes on me, soft, admiring, possibly turned on. And I loved every second of it, it felt so, so right. I unlocked my door, stepping inside as I closed it behind me. I leaned against the door, my heart pounding in my chest as I let out a sigh of relief.

I hobbled to the living room on my crutches, propping myself up on the couch. My cast was a white and beautiful against my black dress. I rubbed my breasts through my cocktail dress, the sensation sending shivers down my spine. I could still feel his gaze, even though he wasn't here. Booking at my crutches, I imagine his girlfriend applying a cast on both his legs while spreading my leg and cast slightly as I began to explore my body.

I pinched my nipples, moaning softly as I arched my back, seeking more pressure. I closed my eyes, picturing his or her hands on me, his fingers replacing mine. I could hear his voice, low and husky, whispering how Dominique went too far and broke his ankle in my ear.

"You like that, don't you?" he would say. 

I let out a soft gasp, my hand slipping down to my vagina. I was already so wet, my panties damp with desire. I rubbed my clitoris through the fabric, the friction sending waves of pleasure through me. I bit my lip, trying to muffle my moans, but it was no use. I was lost in the moment, lost in the sensation.

I imagined his eyes widened as he took in the scene leaning on his crutches with his right ankle broken and in a short leg cast, his gaze lingering on my cast, on my breasts, on the way I was sprawled out on the couch with fingers inside me. His eyes never leave mine.

With that image in mind, I moaned, my hips bucking against my fingers. Could I be so bold as to break somebody's limb?

My body tensed as my orgasm hit. I cried out, my nails sliding against my long cast as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me.  I could imagine him coming, could feel his cock pulsing inside her. He groaned, his body shaking as his orgasm consumed him and his ankle gave from the twisting and intense turning she applied.

That was incredible…

Part 5 to come

Hello, I’m Michelle, and this is my story.
Part 5

I had sent Pierre that photo earlier, me in my cocktail dress, standing tall on my crutches, my long leg cast catching the light just right. It was bold. But I wanted him to see me like that. Different. A little vulnerable, maybe. And definitely unforgettable.

Now, back in my quiet apartment, I hobbled to the kitchen, the soft tap of my crutches echoing off the floor. I poured a glass of water, but I wasn’t thirsty. My mind was spinning. I kept seeing his face, the young Uber driver. The way he’d looked at me, not just at the cast, but at me.

That spark in his eyes… That little electric charge that made my skin tingle.

I leaned against the counter, my cast floating off the floor, my fingers brushing the edge as I stared at my phone. My thumb hovered over Pierre's name on my phone, a name that represented a history of on-again, off-again intimacy. A part of me ached to hear his voice, to know if he felt the same pull, the same intense desire that the photo had awakened in me. I had so much I wanted to say or maybe just to hear his voice. 

But part of me hesitated. What if he didn’t feel what I felt? What if that sexy look in a long leg cast and on crutches only appealed to me?

No. I shook my head. I wasn’t going to second-guess this. I’d taken a chance tonight, showing him that photo. That had to count for something. So I called him. My heart was pounding like crazy as the phone rang.

"Hello?" His voice was low, sleepy, and honestly, kind of sexy.

"Hi…."

He was instantly alert. “I got your photo,  everything okay? How’s the broken leg?”

I let out a little laugh, soft and breathy. “I’m fine. I just… had a little accident.”

There was a pause, then warmth in his voice that made my knees weak, even the one in the cast I think if that’s even possible.

“I couldn’t stop looking at your photo in that black dress,” he said. “Especially… Michelle, you looked incredible. That cast? The way you wear it with confidence, it’s sexy if that’s ok to say.”

My breath caught. I had hoped he would like it, but to hear him say it out loud… I felt heat rise in my cheeks.

“You really think so?” I whispered.

“Yes,” he said. “I bet it must be very painful but... You’re stunning.”

I smiled, biting my lip. “Thank you. That… that means more than you know.”

“I want to see you again. For real, I really miss you since we broke up” he added, his voice more serious now. “Can I take you out tomorrow night? No more back-and-forth. Just you and me.”

My heart did a full-on somersault. “I’d love that but with my broken leg we will have to do something…you know”

He chuckled. “Perfect. Dress to impress, though honestly, you already do.”

We hung up a few minutes later, and I stood in the kitchen, holding my phone like it was something precious leaning on my crutches. I couldn’t stop smiling. Tomorrow night. A real date. With Pierre…Again…

I crutched my way to the bedroom, already thinking about what I might wear. This wasn’t just a night out. It felt like the start of something new.

The next day flew by in a blur. At work I called Sindy and told her about the young couple and the call, the way he’d talked about my cast, about how he wanted to take me out. She grinned like she’d just watched a rom-com in real life.

“Girl, you know exactly what you’re doing,” she teased.

“Honestly? I’m just going with my gut,” I said.

Later that afternoon, I got ready with a defiant sense of purpose. I curled my hair into loose waves and applied a soft makeup look, just enough to highlight my cheekbones and eyes. I chose a red dress that fit like a second skin, the fabric tracing the line round breasts and skimming over my hips, creating a vibrant contrast with the sleek white cast on my leg.

The real statement, however, was in the details and taste. On my good leg, I fastened a black garter belt and a thigh-high stocking, their delicate lace a powerful accent against the red fabric of my dress. 

I then slid a single black 4 inch stiletto onto my foot. It was a bold, dangerous and deliberate styling; the stocking on one leg and the cast on the other created a look that you couldn't miss.

As I took my crutches and hobbled toward the door, I knew people would stare, especially Dominique if she was with us. It would be sheer curiosity, admiration and pure sexual attractions. I imagined her impressed, maybe even a little jealous. With every deliberate step, every careful shift of my hips as I leaned into the crutches with my cast leading the way, I could feel the sexual tension building inside me. The whole effect was a definitive "wow."

It wasn’t about pretending I wasn’t injured. It was about showing I was still me even with a fake, recreational broken leg.

I stepped outside, the cool evening air washing over me as I made my way to the curb. I could see Pierre's car, the headlights shining as he pulled up to the curb. He stepped out.

"You look amazing, what a dress" he said, his voice soft as he approached me.

I smiled, my heart pounding in my chest. "Thank you," I replied, my voice steady despite the nerves that danced in my belly. "You don't look so bad yourself."

He laughed, the sound warm and inviting as he extended his hand to me. "Shall we?" he asked, his voice filled with a sense of anticipation that matched my own.

He opened the door and took my crutches, I took his hand, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through me as he helped me into the car. He closed the door behind me, his eyes meeting mine as he opened the back door to drop my crutches.

"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice soft as I buckled my seatbelt.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he started the car. "It's a surprise," he said. 

"But I promise, you'll love it."

I settled back in my seat with one hand on my cast, my heart pounding in my chest as I watched him pull away from the curb. I didn't know what the night had in store, didn't know where we were going or what we would do, but I knew one thing for certain: I was ready for whatever came next.

Part 6 to come soon

Hello, I’m Michelle, and this is my story.
Part 6

As we drove, I could feel his eyes drifting down, lingering first on my cast and then sliding to my other leg, the healthy one crossed neatly over it. The short red dress I wore rode up just enough to show the curve of my thigh, the smoothness of my skin contrasting with the firm white cast. His gaze moved back and forth between them, curiosity glinting in his eyes, the kind of curiosity laced with something warmer, deeper sexuality. I knew he wanted to ask about my broken leg, about how it felt to be in this long cast, about how I moved with it on my crutches…but he stayed quiet. His look was patient, almost reverent, as though he was letting me decide just how far I wanted to take this unspoken game.

"So," I said, my voice soft as I looked out the window. "Where are we going?"

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at me. "It's a surprise," he said again. "But it's not far. You'll see soon enough."

I settled back in my seat, my heart pounding in my chest as I watched the scenery blur past. I didn't know what to expect, didn't know what the future held, but I knew one thing for certain: I was ready for it. I was ready for whatever came next.

As we drove, I could feel the beautiful sexual tension between us, a palpable energy that filled the car and left me breathless. I could see the way he looked at me, the way his eyes lingered on my cast, and I knew that he was as eager as I was, as desperate to explore this new connection between us.

"You know," I said, my voice soft as I turned to look at him. "I've never done this before."

He looked at me, his eyes soft and inviting as he met my gaze. "Done what?" he asked, his voice gentle.

I smiled. "This," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "This whole... thing. The broken leg, the cast, the crutches, the way people look at me. I've never done anything like this before."

He was silent for a moment, his gaze searching mine as he considered my words. "Why now?" he asked, his voice soft.

"I don't know," I admitted. "I just... I wanted to. I wanted to see what it felt like, to see if it was as exciting as I thought it would be. And it is. It really is."

He was silent for a moment, his gaze on the road as he considered my words. "And what about me?" he asked, his voice soft. "What do you think about me? About this... this thing between us on and off all the time?"

I looked at him, my eyes meeting him as I considered my words. "I think… I think I like it," I said softly, letting the weight of my gaze rest on him. "I think I like you. A lot."

He smiled, slow and knowing, his hand brushing lightly over my knee. The warmth of his touch made me want to say more, things I wasn’t sure I’d ever planned to admit.

"There’s something else, I was with Bianca… we played, we had sex."

His eyes widened for a heartbeat, then narrowed slightly, not in anger, but in vivid interest. "Bianca…" he repeated, his tone testing the sound of her name. "The one in the wheelchair?"

I nodded, feeling the corners of my mouth curl as I remembered. "Yes. She’s… beautiful. There’s something about the way she moves, graceful in her chair."

Pierre’s jaw flexed, and I could see the flicker of images forming in his mind. He wasn’t jealous. It was more like fascination, a kind of hunger. "And you… with her," he said slowly, "that must have been… something to see."

Pictures kept flooding my mind, Bianca’s soft smile, the weight of my long, bare leg draped over her lap, my cast under her hands as she traced it like she was looking for the broken bones. The thought of her eyes lingering on me, maybe even wishing she had been there the moment my leg broke, sent a slow shiver down my spine. 

I could feel Pierre’s thoughts circling the same heat, that place between innocent curiosity and deep, aching desire.

His hand slid slowly up my healthy leg, between my cast and thigh, warm through the thin fabric of my dress, his fingers brushing the wetness. "I’m glad," he murmured, voice low, full of something more than relief. "I’m really glad."

I let myself sink into his touch, my eyes drifting shut. Every stroke of his hand made me feel wanted, not just the unbroken leg he caressed, but the other one too, wrapped in its own quiet beauty. It was like he was touching both at once, seeing all of me.

Then, with a suddenness that made my pulse quicken, he eased the car to the side of the road. His voice was rough, almost needy now. "I want to kiss you."

My eyes opened to his, the air between us warm and thick. I nodded slowly. "I want that too," I whispered.

When he leaned in, his lips brushed mine first, tasting me gently, teasing. His other hand came to rest on my thigh, my casted one this time, fingers splayed, as if grounding himself there. The kiss deepened, slow but sure, his lips coaxing mine open, his breath warm. The world beyond the car faded. All I felt was the press of his mouth, the careful weight of his hand, and the delicious contrast of one leg free and bare, the other cocooned in a full leg cast, both of them drawing him in just as much as I was.

As we turned the corner, the glow of the marquee came into view, faded gold trim, chipped paint, and bold letters announcing tonight’s theme in deep crimson: An Evening of Abasiophilia.

My heart skipped. This wasn’t just another date. This was stepping into a space where my cast, my crutches, my slow, deliberate steps would be part of the atmosphere. A place where the way I moved would be…. Demanded. Appreciated. Desired.

Pierre pulled into the narrow side street and found a spot just a few steps from the entrance. 

“Here we are, he grabbed my crutches,”  his voice low and warm, almost like he was letting me in on a secret.

I smiled, grabbing my crutches before with his help, I eased my long cast out of the car. “It’s perfect, wow” I said, my red dress slipping higher as I turned, catching his eyes immediately.

With one hand steadying my elbow, the other sliding lightly against the small of my back as we crossed to the theatre’s entrance. 

The vintage glass doors of the old theatre caught my reflection. My short and sexy red dress was perfect with my cast, the hem swaying as I moved on my crutches with the single stiletto heel on my good foot. My long white cast shifted with each slow, deliberate step, the faint noise from the fetishist inside pulsing in time with my heartbeat. 

We both looked, and in that moment, I felt more beautiful than I ever had. Like you, dear readers, I can hardly wait to see what Karine has in store for part seven. Should I be scared of what’s coming? I wondered, leaning on my crutches…

Part 7 to come soon