"Sarah, how do you think you'd feel if you had both legs broken?" Her eyes held a glimmer of curiosity looking me up from feet to lips.
I paused for a moment, considering her question, and then replied, "I imagine it would be a challenging experience. Mobility would be limited, and I'd rely on you to wash and please me sexually," I smiled while we both looked at the prime minister's wife.
"Why are you asking me that? You'd like to see me like that with a broken arm and legs ? To take care of me? To dominate your broken girlfriend? Would you make me crawl naked to you miss Mia?" I inquired with a playful teasing.
Mia went on to explain her interest, saying, "I'm not saying I'd like you to break all those bones Sarah but you would look so sexy."
As I observed the Prime Minister's wife, with her visible injuries and the challenges she faced, I couldn't help but find myself attracted to her, to her situation until she rolled towards us
"Plus maybe if you were my wife, I would take care of you," left me momentarily speechless. The sentiment in her statement resonated deeply, and it was clear that she cared for me just as I did for her.
The elegant sound of the wheelchair wheels rolling across the polished floor drew my attention as the Canadian Prime Minister's wife approached us. Her beautiful long brown hair complemented her smile. I noticed the delicate push of her wheelchair with a combination of her broken arm and her healthy one working in a synchrony.
"Mia, Sarah, it's so nice to see both of you again," the Canadian Prime Minister's wife greeted us warmly.
"Thank you. I wish we could go for a run again like last time, but with our broken legs it will be for another time," Mia replied leaning on her crutches, her gaze shifting to the Prime Minister's wife's leg casts.
As the Prime Minister's wife spoke, a flicker of memory swept through my mind. I remembered reading about the car accident she had been in, the vehicle flipping over twice, her legs trapped under the front seat upon impact, Multiple fractures.
The return to Mia's apartment was full of intimacy, our movements gentle and careful, mindful of Mia's broken leg and the support she needed from her crutches. With each step, I offered a steadying arm, ready to help if needed, ensuring her balance remained steady as she made it to her living room.
Mia leaned on her crutches and touched my face with her long fingers before she kissed me.
I looked at her "You're so pretty Mia,"
She kissed me again. Her lips felt wonderful, my heart was beating fast and my mind raced with wild thoughts from seeing those 2 sexy women broken up and casted. The Prime Minister's wife in her wheelchair and Mia standing on her crutches... Our mouths opened and our tongues touched. I put my arms around her and pulled her gently into me.
I felt her breasts and nipples rubbing against mine. Her hard cast against my leg. What a wonderful sensation. I helped her settle onto the couch, I lifted her broken leg on my lap, the weight of her long pink cast a reminder of the severity of her injured limb and how turned on I was sexually.
Mia shifted her pink cast slightly on my lap, her expressive blue eyes meeting mine with a sensual gaze. She knew the effect she had on me. With pure lust in her voice she asked
"Sarah, my poor little toes at the end of the cast have gotten so dry. Could you please help me with some skin cream?" she requested, her words carrying so much sexual innuendos.
I nodded with a gentle smile, understanding the significance of this simple yet intimate gesture. Rising from the couch, I made my way to the bathroom, where I retrieved the skin cream, its soothing scent promising comfort and so much more.
I returned to my girlfriend that was now totally naked, except for her sexy long pink cast with a smile.
I sat down, re-positioned her cast on my lap. I watched Mia rubbing her firm belly in slow sensuous circles before moving to her breasts. Her fingers pinching her nipples, she bit her red lips.
I lifted her cast, my lips touched her toes, licking them slowly looking at her. She had one hand on her large breast and she moved her other hand between her legs, her long fingers finding their way to her wet vagina.
I applied the skin cream with tender strokes, my fingers moved with a delicate, unhurried grace. I paid special attention to her dry toes, my touch a soothing caress.
Not so delicately Mia began to thrust her hips upward against her fingers and began to stroke her clitoris steadily. I imagined for a minute both her legs broken, leaving my future wife crippled but so sexy.
The room seemed to hold its breath as we shared this quiet, intimate moment. The hushed sound of the skin cream on her long toes with her fingers getting her so aroused, so close to her orgasm. Mia's eyes held mine, her toes now comforted by the moisturizing cream.
She looked right at me and continued to masturbate. With one hand she stroked her breasts and pulled hard on her nipples. With the other she slid in and out of her vagina. I was so aroused watching her and yet she added more, sliding off her couch. I walked to the end of her spacious apartment and sat on the floor.
Mia looked at me "When I went over the top, my body felt suddenly weightless as I tumbled to the floor below"
"I know I'm so sorry I couldn't catch you properly."
"Don't be Sarah it's ok, the impact sent shock-waves through my bones, and an excruciating pain shot up my left leg" Mia gritted her teeth, a cry threatening to escape my lips.
"I've often fantasized about breaking my long legs. In my dream, with supreme effort, I forced myself to try to crawl away from him after he kicked my crutches from under me."
"5 minutes before I could hear the one click of my stiletto and the thumb of my crutches through the dimly lit alley. I quickly twisted around, lying on my back with my full leg cast on display at the bottom of a short leather skirt"
"I saw him approaching, his menacing silhouette growing larger by the second. As he loomed over me, I swung my right leg with all the strength I could muster, my stiletto heel connecting with his chest but he grabbed my foot."
I could clearly see Mia on the ground helpless against this strong man in my mind while she crawled to me, sliding her long leg cast.
"The nightmare was far from over, with a sadistic look, he grabbed my foot and high heel by the stiletto, his fingers wrapping around them like a vice. With a cruel, calculating look in his eyes, he slowly twisted my foot, causing an unbearable pain to shoot up my leg when he snapped my ankle, breaking both bones. I cried out, a mixture of terror and agony escaping my lips until I would wake up in my bed"
"Oh Mia" I took her in my arms and held her tight.
"Would you be my monster one day Mia?" I asked before kissing her.
Part 8 to come
K
Tuesday, November 28, 2023
The President's daughter part 7
Monday, November 27, 2023
Au-Delà du Plâtre et des Béquilles : Évolution d'une Attirance. Partie 2
Nous n'obtenons pas toujours ce que nous voulons, et ma fascination pour les plâtres et les béquilles a pris une tournure étrange lors d'un incident plutôt douloureux lors d'un entraînement de gymnastique.
C'était un mardi après-midi, et nous étions en plein entraînement intense après une mauvaise performance le vendredi soir précédent contre nos rivaux numéro 1. L'adrénaline montait, la pression de faire mieux aussi et j'étais déterminée à tout donner sur la poutre.
Mes pieds touchent la surface de bois, et je commence par une série de sauts, mes pieds quittant la poutre avec la légèreté d'une plume. Chaque réception est précise, chaque impulsion calculée pour maximiser la hauteur et l'élégance. Je me sens en harmonie avec la poutre.
La fin de la routine approche, et je prépare ma descente. Une série finale de sauts périlleux me sépare de la poutre, et je m'élance dans les airs avec une détermination sans faille, mais ma jambe droite atterri de manière maladroite. En un instant, le cauchemar, le rêve que j'avais espéré devenait réalité.
En un instant, ce qui aurait dû être un rêve s'est transformé en cauchemar, devenant ainsi une réalité inattendue pour plusieurs et souhaitée pour moi.
Ma cheville s'est tordue à un angle anormal alors que je perdais l'équilibre une fois au sol. Une douleur lancinante a traversé mon pied, ma cheville et ma jambe. Je me souviens de la sensation de ma cheville qui roulait et de la douleur vive qui a suivi. Une sensation incroyable.
Je suis tombée au sol, agrippant ma cheville qui pulsait, pendant que mon entraîneur et le préparateur accouraient vers moi. À en juger par la douleur, c'était forcément cassé, aucun doute, mon premier plâtre approchait rapidement.
Mes coéquipières se sont précipitées à mes côtés. Il était évident que quelque chose était sérieusement cassé. Ma cheville avait enflé presque instantanément, et la douleur était insupportable, résistant à la tentation de la touchée de me toucher, mais surtout ne me délivre pas du mal…J’en ai besoin.
Combien de temps allais-je devoir porter un plâtre ? Je me demandais en gémissant de douleur et en souriant intérieurement.
L'entraîneur de l'équipe de gymnastique a appelé le médecin sportif de l'école, qui est arrivé avec sa trousse médicale. Elle a soigneusement évalué ma cheville, recherchant des signes de foulure ou de fracture. Il n'a pas fallu longtemps pour confirmer que c'était probablement une fracture, mais j'avais besoin d'une radiographie pour confirmer. Un os cassé douloureux qui nécessite de l'attention, des soins.
On m'a aidée à me mettre debout sur ma bonne jambe, et même le simple fait de poser ma cheville blessée sur le sol de la salle de gym m'envoyait des vagues de douleur. On m'a escortée en sautillant sur le côté, où le médecin sportif a commencé le processus d'application d'un sac de glace pour réduire l'enflure. J'ai regardé ma cheville être doucement enveloppée dans un bandage de compression, procurant un certain soulagement de la douleur.
Ma cheville, maintenant enveloppée dans le bandage avec la glace, semblait étrange, lourde et vulnérable. J'adorais être vulnérable, j'en avais tellement besoin.
On m'a remis une paire de béquilles pour m'aider à me déplacer, et en essayant délicatement de m'appuyer dessus, je m'émerveilles de la façon dont ces simples outils pouvaient me fournir le soutien dont j'avais besoin pour me déplacer malgré ma blessure.
Ce jour-là, je suis sortie de la salle de gym sur mes béquilles pour me rendre à l'hôpital pour les radiographies. J'ai réalisé que j'allais être mise sur la touche pendant un certain temps, manquant une grande partie de la saison, mais j’allais soutenir mes coéquipières. Cette expérience serait l'un des premiers chapitres de mon appréciation des plâtres et des béquilles.
La douleur dans ma cheville pulsait à chaque pas, même sans mettre de poids dessus, et les béquilles offraient un soutien si important. Tous ont regardé avec des expressions sympathiques alors que je quittais pour l'hôpital, l'entraînement continuait sans moi.
On m'a emmenée à l'hôpital pour des radiographies afin de déterminer l'étendue des dommages à ma cheville et ma jambe. L'attente des résultats pesait lourdement sur mon esprit. Je fantasmais sur un beau plâtre sur ma jambe. De quelle couleur serait-il ?
Dans le service de radiologie, on m'a demandé de rester immobile pendant que le technicien positionne la machine, et l'atmosphère froide et clinique de la pièce contrastait vivement avec la camaraderie de l'équipe de gymnastique.
Pendant que les radiographies étaient prises, je ne pouvais m'empêcher de me demander à nouveau le résultat. Serait-ce une entorse sévère nécessitant des semaines de récupération, ou y aurait-il une fracture nécessitant un joli plâtre ? L'incertitude me rendait folle, et je retenais mon souffle pendant que les images étaient traitées.
Une fois les radiographies terminées, on m'a ramenée dans la salle d'examen pour attendre les résultats. L'air était lourd d'anticipation pendant que j'attendais que le médecin arrive. Quand il est finalement arrivé, il a apporté à la fois du soulagement et de l'appréhension.
Il s'est avéré que j'avais une entorse significative du troisième degré, une blessure grave nécessitant un autre type de soutien. Le médecin a expliqué soigneusement le plan de traitement, et j'ai écouté attentivement, désireuse de comprendre ce qui n'allait pas.
Je voulais comprendre pourquoi ce n'était pas cassé. Pour faire mieux la prochaine fois.
Ils ont recommandé une botte en plastique, un dispositif conçu pour stabiliser et soutenir ma cheville blessée tout en permettant une certaine mobilité. Ce serait un pas de plus vers la guérison, mais cela signifiait aussi s'adapter à une nouvelle forme de soutien.
Alors que la botte était ajustée confortablement autour de ma cheville blessée, cela semblait être un compromis entre la liberté de mouvement et la nécessité de stabilisation. Cela procurait un sentiment réconfortant de sécurité, me permettant de retrouver progressivement ma mobilité mais…
Ce n'était pas le plâtre que je voulais tellement.
Quittant l'hôpital ce jour-là sur mes béquilles, je ressentais une détermination renouvelée. Bien que ma saison de gymnastique ait pris fin brusquement, j'étais prête à affronter le parcours de la récupération de front pour un retour possible.
Ce soir-là, de retour chez moi, j'essayais de trouver le sommeil, nue sauf pour ma botte protégeant ma cheville blessée sous un léger drap. Mon corps était bouillant, et je sentais que j'étais encore sous l'effet de l'excitation physique et sexuelle de m'être presque brisé la cheville.
Plus que j’y pensais, nue sur mon lit, plus mon excitation grimpait et plus cela me donnait des envies de me casser une jambe ou une cheville. Je caressais mes seins doucement et mes mains descendirent d'elles-même entre mes jambes.
Je ne savais pas encore que cette expérience serait l'un des premiers chapitres de mon parcours vers plâtres et béquilles mais, j'étais plus déterminée que jamais à avoir un plâtre.
La suite à venir.
K
Sunday, November 26, 2023
The president's daughter part 6
After our encounter with the professor in the elevator, we finally reached Mia's apartment. It was a relief to be in the familiar surroundings of her home, away from his prying eyes. With a playful grin, she turned to me and said,
"Sarah, could you do me a favor? Can you paint my toes in a lovely shade of pink to match my cast?"
I couldn't help but smile at her request. It was a small but meaningful gesture, a way for her to maintain a sense of style, even with her leg in a cast. I nodded eagerly, appreciating the opportunity to bring a touch of femininity to her recovery.
"Of course, Mia, let's make your toes match your cast perfectly."
Mia settled comfortably on the couch, her broken leg propped up with cushions for support. I gathered the necessary supplies, including a delicate shade of pink nail polish that would complement her cast.
As I carefully painted her toenails, I watched her contented smile. Once I had finished, Mia examined her freshly painted toes with satisfaction. I slid my foot along her pink cast, she looked at me with lust in her beautiful blue eyes and I felt her wetness from between her legs against my toes.
I was ever so slowly rubbing her and holding on to her broken leg.
She was about to lean back but I stopped her, I pulled her up kissing her lips, then her long neck and breasts. She removed her t-shirt, no bra so I took one of her nipples into my mouth
I sucked on it, lightly pulling with her teeth. With my right hand I caressed Mia's other breast, squeezing her nipple between my thumb and forefinger.
"Oh Sarah..." She moaned and the whole situation was so erotic.
She moved her cast between my legs, my vagina rubbing against it, I continued sucking her nipple. My hand slowly moved down and I slowly slid my finger in and out, stopping to rub her clitoris.
I lifted my head to stare in her eyes and she kissed my lips, her eyes were lost in her sexual pleasure with her orgasm building up. She kept moaning in my mouth pushing her broken leg harder and harder between my legs.
"Oh God Mia, I don't want to hurt you."
Her whole body started shaking from the orgasm including her long pink cast and like that wasn't enough she pushed two fingers inside me thrusting in and out so fast. Then three until I totally lost control and a crazy wild orgasm pleasured my body. We both collapsed back on the bed, our eyes closed.
Three days later, Mia and I were preparing for a black-tie cocktail event at the White House. The occasion was significant, with the Canadian Prime Minister and his wife as the honored guests. It required meticulous preparation, especially for Mia, who had her full leg encased in her vibrant pink cast, along with crutches.
Mia was in the process of fastening her black evening gown that flowed along her body. Her long pink cast extended below her gown, making it a striking contrast to the elegance of her dress and she loved that. Her choice of shoe was a beautiful lower heel pump designed to accommodate her usage of crutches.
As she turned to me, I was speechless. It was an understatement to say she was resilient and stylish dealing with her broken leg.
"I must say you look absolutely stunning,"
I, on the other hand, was dressed in a tailored black tuxedo, with a thigh holster for my SIG pistol, a constant companion in my line of work. The sleek design emphasized my role as Mia's protector for the night.
As I made the final adjustments to my appearances, Mia walked towards me on her crutches. She had a playful smile and an unmistakable curiosity. She approached me, her fingers gently tracing the outline of my pistol.
With a smile, she looked up at me and said, "You always look so commanding in that tuxedo my sexy secret agent." Her lips met mine in a soft and playful kiss.
As we prepared to leave for the White House, the challenge of getting into the car with her elegant gown and her long leg cast became apparent. She carefully navigated her way to the car. I held the car door open, ensuring that her path was clear and she leaned on me.
She not so gracefully slid herself in the car's back seat, arranging her gown to fit comfortably. I couldn't help but smile at my athletic girlfriend facing her adversity with such grace.
"I love you Mia," I whispered..
She looked back at me with a twinkle in her eye, a mixture of determination and affection. " I love you too, my secret agent, I couldn't have done it without you, Sarah. We make a great team."
The grandeur of the White House stood before us, an iconic symbol of American history and diplomacy. As we arrived at the entrance, Mia and I stepped out of the car, she leaned against me until she re-positioned her crutches under her arms. The arrival of the President's daughter was so not Mia style since it was met with a hushed awe as she walked in, a radiant smile on her lips. Mia never looked for attention.
The White House staff greeted her with the utmost respect. Mia's charm and warmth endeared her to those she encountered, her interactions filled with grace and humility. My eyes remained ever watchful, ensuring her safety and security even if the White House was very safe for her.
The arrival of Mia's mother, the President of the United States, along with her distinguished guest, the Prime Minister of Canada, took both Mia and me by surprise. We had been prepared for their presence, but what we didn't anticipate was the condition of the Prime Minister's wife, who had recently suffered a terrible car accident.
As the motorcade pulled up to the White House entrance, the grandeur of the event seemed to momentarily fade into the background. The Prime Minister's love and care for his wife were evident as he stepped out of the motorcade. He delicately assisted her out of the car, picked her up and gently positioned her in the wheelchair, ensuring her broken limbs were comfortably and securely arranged. Then he kissed her cheek. His actions spoke volumes of their deep connection and the support they provided for each other during her recovery. She was elegantly dressed and seated in a wheelchair, her condition very serious and yet she looked beautiful,
Her left leg was in a full leg cast, extending from her thigh down to mid foot, with her leg resting straight out on the leg rest of the wheelchair. The cast was pristine white, contrasting with her dark gown, and it held her broken leg securely in place. A little red sock covered her toes, adding a touch of style to the otherwise clinical appearance of the cast.
Her lower right leg was also ensconced in a white cast, a smaller one that stopped below her knee that contrasted with her full leg cast. The cast on her right leg protected her shattered ankle.
In addition to her leg casts, her left arm was bent at a 90-degree angle, immobilized in yet another white cast. Her presence in a wheelchair and her multiple casts took me back in my memory, to me and Mia in bed with her hard cast between my legs.
Mia's reaction was immediate, her eyes widened with surprise, and she exchanged a knowing glance with me while squeezing her crutches handles. The connection between them was unspoken but powerful. Mia, with her own leg cast and crutches but she could not understand all the challenges that the Prime Minister's wife was facing. Her expression was one of compassion and solidarity as she watched the guest's arrival.
I was instantly alert. The arrival of the Prime Minister's wife, with her visible injuries and wheelchair bound, added a layer of complexity and I'm sorry to say, sexual interest to the evening's proceedings. She was sexy in her wheelchair, I imagined Mia with a long arm cast touching me all over.
Amidst the diplomatic conversations and the elegant ambiance of the White House, I observed Mia approaching me with a bright and infectious smile. With a chuckle, I greeted her, "What's got you in such a good mood tonight?"
Her smile remained as she walked closer, her broken leg made a small contact with my leg, and then she posed an unexpected question,
Part 7 to come
K
Saturday, November 25, 2023
Au-Delà du Plâtre et des Béquilles : Évolution d'une Attirance Prologue
J'ai remarqué pour la première fois mon attirance pour les plâtres et les béquilles quand j'étais étudiante. C'était une fascination inhabituelle que je ne pouvais pas vraiment comprendre à l'époque. La fascination était physique, pour le plâtre et les béquilles, mais aussi sensuelle et très sexuelle. Combien de nuits ai-je passé à lire des histoires et à regarder des vidéos d'accidents, suivis des activités quotidiennes et routinières avec le beau plâtre et les béquilles.
Je me souviens vivement de ma première rencontre avec un plâtre médical. C'était une camarade de classe qui s'était cassé la cheville en jouant au soccer. Elle est venue à l'école avec un plâtre en dessous du genou et des béquilles pour la soutenir pendant qu'elle se déplaçait. Je me suis retrouvé captivé par l'expérience.
Au début, je pensais que c'était simplement de la curiosité ou de la sympathie pour sa blessure. Mais au fil des jours, j'ai réalisé que c'était quelque chose de plus. Dans mon esprit fou, c'était indéniable, la façon dont elle se déplaçait avec son genou plié, gardant son plâtre hors du sol, elle était si désirable.
La façon dont elle devait compter sur ces béquilles pour se déplacer, et la vulnérabilité qu'elle montrait. C'était comme s'il y avait une connexion invisible qui se formait entre ma fascination, sa fragilité et mon attirance sexuelle pour elle et son plâtre.
Quand nous nous sommes embrassés pour la première fois dans sa chambre trois jours plus tard, j'ai secrètement gardé ma main sur son charmant plâtre tout le temps, elle n’aimait vraiment pas ce plâtre mais moi je souhaitais tellement que ce soit ma cheville ou même ma jambe complète qui soit cassée.
Au fil du temps, je ne pouvais plus nier l'attraction. Je me suis retrouvé à rechercher activement des images et des vidéos en ligne de personnes avec des plâtres et des béquilles. Ce n'était pas quelque chose que je discutais ouvertement avec qui que ce soit, de peur de leur jugement ou de leur incompréhension. C'était mon secret le plus intime, une partie de moi que je peinais à comprendre. Comment aurais-je pu expliquer que j'étais une femme attirée par ceux qui avaient besoin d'un plâtre et de béquilles ?
Cependant, c'est pendant cette période que j'ai trouvé un exutoire unique pour mes sentiments et ma fascination. J'ai commencé à écrire des nouvelles, au début principalement centrées sur des femmes avec des plâtres et des béquilles. À travers mes histoires, je pouvais explorer, exprimer et repousser les limites des émotions complexes et des attirances physiques et sexuelles que je ressentais.
Cela me permettait d'approfondir le sujet et de comprendre les subtilités de l'expérience humaine lorsqu'on fait face à des blessures, à la douleur, au plaisir sexuel et au besoin de soutien. L'écriture est devenue un moyen de canaliser ma fascination d’une façon créative, un monde privé où je pouvais explorer les profondeurs de mes sentiments et de mon attirance sexuelle pour cette belle attraction.
En vieillissant, mon attirance pour les plâtres et les béquilles est devenue un aspect plus accepté de ma vie. J'ai commencé à comprendre que ce n'était pas seulement à propos des objets physiques eux-mêmes, mais plutôt de l'idée de vulnérabilité, de résilience, de sexualité et du plaisir que la douleur provoque en moi.
La vue de quelqu'un surmontant une blessure, utilisant des béquilles pour avancer dans la vie, était incroyablement excitante pour moi.
Aujourd'hui, mon attirance pour les plâtres et les béquilles s'est transformée en plusieurs aspects des raisons pour lesquelles une personne pourrait porter un plâtre. On pourrait dire que j'ai une plus grande appréciation pour l'esprit humain. Je peux maintenant voir le plaisir d'un plâtre récréatif plutôt que de toujours chercher le plâtre médical comme je le faisais depuis des années.
J'admire la force et la détermination qu'il faut pour s'adapter à des situations ou nous ne pouvons mettre du poid sur une jambe, plâtré ou non. Je suis tellement excitée par la beauté de nos imperfections. Entorse, fracture, amputation, membre paralysé sont tous des aspects uniques et non conventionnels de mes attractions, que j'ai fini par accepter comme une partie de qui je suis.
J'ai également appris qu'il est important d'aborder cette attraction avec respect et sensibilité. Je comprends que les personnes avec des blessures ou des handicaps ne sont pas des objets de fascination, mais des individus avec leurs propres histoires et défis. Mon attirance m'a appris à être plus empathique et compréhensif des expériences des autres.
En fin de compte, mon attirance pour les plâtres et les béquilles est un rappel que les connexions humaines et les attirances peuvent être complexes et multifacettes. C'est une partie de mon identité, c'est qui je suis, et il m'a fallu deux divorces pour le comprendre et l'accepter.
K
Friday, November 24, 2023
The President's daughter part 5
The day of Mia's scheduled surgery, doctor Ramirez explained the process to us. "Mia, we're going to surgically repair the fractures in your leg. This will involve placing metal plates and screws to stabilize the bones. After the surgery, you'll be in a full leg cast to protect and support your leg during the healing process. The casts will be on your leg for a total of 12 weeks minimum, non weight bearing"
"I'm ready Doctor."
A few days later the worst was behind her, they were going to put a cast on her broken leg. That was a crucial part of the healing process, and it was essential to provide her with stability and support as her multiple fractures mended.
A sexy young male nurse carefully cleaned and prepared her broken leg for casting. The cast technician, a skilled and experienced professional, began by wrapping her leg in layers of soft padding. This padding would provide comfort and cushioning beneath the cast.
I watched with interest as the cast technician expertly moulded the pink cast around Mia's leg. Her eyes were fixed on the process also, I could tell she was feeling excited about the process. She knew that this cast would be a constant companion for a while to both of us.
The cast slowly took shape, encasing Mia's leg from her thigh down to her toes to perfection. It was snug and very shapely. It was designed to immobilize her leg but for me it was so much more. Her fingers tightened around mine as the cast technician worked, and I could see the discomfort on her face.
Finally, the cast was complete, and her long leg was secured in a perfect pink cast, bent at the knee at a 35 degree angle. With each passing day, she would grow stronger and closer to walking again but it was going to be a very long process.
As we left the hospital, I couldn't help but steal a glance at Mia's leg cast in the leg rest of her wheelchair. I could tell she was happy to finally leave the hospital. God knows that cast made her look even sexier than she already was.
However, there was a decision that Mia had made, one that she had shared with me and Madame president alone. Despite the option to return to the White House for her recovery, she had chosen a different path. Instead of returning to the political hub of the nation, she wanted to go back to her college apartment.
Mia wanted to rejoin her college life, support her volleyball team, and wanted to be very close to me, her protector, confidante, and now, something more. I couldn't help but feel a surge of love for this woman I had the privilege of protecting and, more importantly, spending the night in bed with her, her long cast against my leg.
Arriving at the apartment building, I parked the car and turned off the engine. I knew that helping Mia out of the car would require some careful coordination and support. I opened the car door and with a warm smile "Ready to go Mia?" she nodded, her determination shining through, "I was born ready."
I gently helped her out of the car, making sure to support her long cast as she moved. She leaned on me for balance, trusting me. I carefully handed her the crutches, and she gripped them with practised ease, positioned them under her arms and smiled at me.
I leaned into her and spread my legs, allowing her to push that lovely cast between my legs and I kissed her while cupping her left breast. She squeezed her crutches and let out a small moaning sound.
"Oh yes you were born ready baby my dear Mia"
With her crutches and me by her side, we made our way to the entrance of her apartment building with grace and athleticism, even with her leg in a cast. She moved with a fluidity that proved again that she had been on crutches before.
As we approached the three steps leading to the front entrance, she paused for a moment. It was a small but necessary obstacle on her path, and I was there to provide support.
She gracefully slid her long casted leg between the crutches, positioning herself for the ascent. She used crutches and her strong leg to ascend each step, one at a time and I stood close, ready to assist if needed.
We entered the apartment building, and I watched with admiration as she navigated the long lobby towards the elevators. I walked into the elevator, held the door open for Mia. She moved inside, her crutches clacking softly against the floor. I followed closely behind her every step. Inside the elevator, she leaned against the wall for support as the doors closed. The confined space brought us closer together. Our eyes met, and the unspoken connection between us was palpable.
In that moment, unable to resist her, closer since that fateful volleyball practice, I leaned in and kissed Mia gently. It was a tender and affectionate kiss. She stopped and looked at me while standing on her crutches.
Her deep blue eyes looked at me at my clothes and high heels pumps. My skirt was cut way above the knees and hugged my tight ass and hips. My jacket was in the car and that was my mistake, her eyes moved to my Sig-Sauer P229 single action pistol. She then took a step forward towards me and rubbed my breast against my white blouse.
I could feel my hard nipples under her fingers and closed my eyes for a split second. When they opened again, the inner walls of the elevator being highly polished mirror, I was able to look at my sexy but injured girlfriend from various angles. Her blue eyes were piercing while she licked her lips and continued to rub my breasts.
Just as Mia and I shared that moment in the elevator, a sudden jolt brought our connection back to reality. The elevator jerked to a stop, and the doors slid open with a mechanical noise. As the doors revealed the 8th floor, a man in his forties stepped inside. I recognized him as one of Mia's teachers, a caring and concerned look in his brown eyes.
"Hello Mia, I heard about your injury, how's that poor broken leg of yours?"
As the professor greeted Mia in the elevator, his gaze shifted to her casted leg, and his expression turned to one of genuine concern and interest. He leaned in slightly to close for my comfort, as if trying to get a better look of her sexy long legs, especially her injured limb.
Was I jealous or just doing my job?
Mia's pink cast was extending from the top of her thigh down to mid foot. Even if it was slim and form fitting, the length of her cast was a testament to the severity of her injuries, a protective shell that held her fractured bones in place. The surface of the cast was smooth and free of imperfections. I saw how the cast technician who had applied the cast, how much he loved to rub over and over Mia pink cast, recreating her sexy shapes within the hard cast, like a sculptor.
The cast, while functional, was so much more. It was part of our life experience. That she chose pink like mine was years ago, added a touch of personality to her life in a full leg cast.
Mia's toes peeked out from the end of the cast, waiting for me to paint them.
As the professor's gaze kept lingering on, I'm sure he could see the faint impressions of her shapely leg under the cast. The contours of her calf and thigh were still evident, a reminder of her sexy leg. Mia smiled and engaged in a friendly chat with her teacher, sharing her experiences. Their conversation flowed naturally and that's not surprising since Mia has an outgoing and friendly personality.
However, as their conversation continued, I couldn't help but notice that Mia's teacher's gaze occasionally shifted towards me and my exposed firearm. There was something in his expression all of a sudden, an understanding that seemed to pass between us. She's mine buddy.
He turned to me and said, "You're Sarah, right? Mia has mentioned you before."
I nodded, feeling a bit self-conscious under his scrutiny. "Yes, I'm Sarah. I'm her... well, I'm here to support her through this."
A knowing smile crossed his face, and he glanced back at Mia, who was leaning on her crutches. "It's good to see someone who cares about Mia so deeply. She's lucky to have you."
As the elevator door opened, we bid her teacher farewell, and we stepped out. The doors closed behind us, and we were left alone once more slowly making our way to her apartment quietly.
Yes she is a lucky lady PROFESSOR and if you know what's good for you...
Part 6 to come
K