Tuesday, December 5, 2023
Monday, December 4, 2023
The president's daughter conclusion
In the privacy of my apartment, I was excited as I carefully plotted my next move. Eager to surprise Mia, I stood before the full-length mirror, studying my reflection as if composing a new sexual persona to please my lover. I had already ordered a cotton amputee sock, and a set of crutches, carefully concealing them from Mia's view. As I began to apply the make-believe stump, wrapping my leg, I was amazed at the authenticity of the illusion taking shape before my eyes.
Pretending to be an amputee felt strangely natural to me, as if it were an extension of my own sexual persona. Adjusting my weight onto the crutches, I tested my balance, my movements guided by a need to surprise and please sexually my future wife.
As I looked at my legs, I rubbed my make-believe stump, the flesh-toned material blending seamlessly with my skin. I adjusted the sock, ensuring a snug fit, the gradual loss of sensation in my left leg was unfamiliar yet such a sexual turn on, the added challenge was such a thrill.
As I took tentative steps across the room on my crutches I felt a rush between my leg and stump, with a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of my lips, I couldn't wait to see the look of surprise on Mia's face.
Rummaging through my small collection of shoes, I searched for the perfect high heel that would complement the illusion. I carefully considered the height, the shape, and the color, knowing that the right shoe would not only complete the look but also add a touch of sophistication to my persona.
I slipped on the shoe, loving the way it elevated my posture and added to my playful transformation. The gentle curve of the heel added a sway in my step, while the subtle click of the sole and stiletto heel on the floor resonated. As I stood before the mirror, the complete image took shape.
The sight of the sleek pencil skirt hugging my curves, its deep navy hue contrasting with my white blouse hugging my breasts. The hem of the skirt fell just above my knee allowing a glimpse of the artificial amputated limb.
Leaving my apartment, the gentle click of my heel echoed softly in the hallway. I glided through the hallway, the elegant sway of my stump between the crutches became a seamless extension of my body's newfound grace. As I approached Mia's door, the scent of familiarity greeted me, a blend of her favorite candles.
With a gentle knock, the anticipation swelled, listening to the soft echo of her own crutches that followed. The door swung open, revealing the radiant smile that graced Mia's face, with its irresistible charm.
Her eyes widened in pleasant surprise as she took in my striking new appearance having recently recreationally lost my left leg at the knee following a terrible accident.
"Wow, you look amazing, come in, come in. I've been waiting for you but I wasn't expecting you to look so amazing only 2 days after your amputation," she played on.
I could see her gaze lingering appreciatively on my stump. Mia leaned gently on her crutches, closing the distance between leg cast and my strong right leg, and softly pressed her lips against mine while her cast rubbed my leg.
As her tongue gently explored, every sexual nerve in my body seemed to come alive, pulsating with a desire that I could no longer contain. Our kiss deepened, becoming a passionate exchange. I held her closer, time seemed to stand still as we enjoyed the intimacy of the moment, letting our hearts guide us to a place where nothing else mattered.
Our crutches dropped simultaneously, the clatter on the floor barely audible amidst the intensity of the moment. Mia, being careful not to put weight on her short cast knowing her tibia couldn't take it, she skilfully hopped over to the couch. Meanwhile, I balanced on one leg, the high heel adding an extra challenge, but my determination to be close to Mia eclipsed any discomfort.
I looked into those haunting blue eyes. Less than 6 inches separated us. Mia then leaned forward and kissed me on the lips with her hand on my stump rubbing it while she looked into my face for a reaction and found happiness that I was pleasing her.
"Oh God Sarah I wasn't sure how you would feel about my sexual attraction to amputees but this is more than my craziest dream."
"To tell the truth, to see you the last 6 weeks in your cast and on crutches made it easier to try it,"
I kissed her once again and felt her mouth open, allowing my tongue easy access. Our tongues met and began to dart in and out of each other's mouth. I began to unbutton Mia's blouse, slipping my hand inside her bra and I cup her perfect breasts while my fingers began to work their magic on her long hard nipples.
She let out a soft moan, just to let me know that she wanted me to continue. Her broken leg rubbing against my stump. Within seconds her blouse was on the floor and I removed her bra.
"You are so sexy Mia," before she could say anything my mouth was on her dark nipples, my tongue licking.
Her hands moved down to my stump then my skirt. I shifted a little, lifting my ass off the couch. With a slow and caring tug, she pulled my skirt and panties along my stump and good long leg. She began to kiss downward, along my belly, I was totally shaved.
Mia slipped a finger inside me followed by her tongue. My stump and leg were stretched as far apart as I could. For the moment I was content to just enjoy her. She thrusted her eager tongue in and out.
She then carefully stood up on her short leg cast and foot, her broken leg without the support of her crutches was very vulnerable, pain showing across her face. Despite the slight wince, her blue eyes were bright with lust and sexual needs.
With graceful movements, she swayed her hips slowly, her body gently following the rhythm of an imaginary melody. While caressing her large breasts, her eyes were on my short stump.
I was transfixed by her beauty while I kept masturbating. I couldn't help but watch as she danced, her broken leg dangerously bearing the weight with the pain she was undoubtedly feeling.
"You're amazing, so sexy but be careful."
Mia's gesture caught me off guard when she leaned in and pulled me up, on my one leg. She couldn't help but moan from the pain and pleasure she was feeling as she supported my weight, her broken leg taking the strain, and the pain coursing through her sexy long body was evident.
"Careful," I said as I steadied myself on my single leg, I couldn't feel my wrapped leg anymore, just like an amputee would while she was holding me up. In that quiet, intimate moment, our eyes locked, Mia's grip tightened on me as she moaned.
"I love you," I whispered.
Mia's lips curled into a tender smile. "I love you too, Sarah. More than words can say."
I brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, my fingers gentle as they traced the curve of her cheek.
"Will you marry me?"
"Yes, Sarah. A thousand times, yes,"
But as Mia leaned in, her gaze locked with mine, a flicker of hesitation evident in her eyes.
"Sarah, I think I might have broken my leg again dancing on my cast," she said quietly licking her lips, smiling.
My heart sank at the news, I couldn't feel my leg and wondered how long it would take before...You know.
"We'll figure it out. We'll find a way, my sexy amputee,"Mia said, rubbing my stump and then she kissed me keeping her broken leg off the floor.
The end
K
Sunday, December 3, 2023
Saturday, December 2, 2023
The President's daughter part 9
A few weeks had passed since our amputation discussions, and the routines of my mornings had settled into a familiar rhythm. I rose with a sense of purpose, the weight of duty settling onto my shoulders as I prepared for the day ahead.
Securing my shoulder holster, I ensured that my firearm was snug and in place. The motions were fluid and precise, etched into my muscle memory from years of rigorous training and service. Each movement was deliberate, a silent promise to protect and serve Mia.
The familiar scent of brewing coffee wafted through the air. While waiting for Sarah I savoured it with each sip. The caffeine served as a silent companion, a wake up call. As I stood before the mirror, my gaze briefly lingered on the photograph in the living room table. A moment of tenderness shared with Mia during an official trip in Ireland, a snapshot of my beautiful girlfriend. The memory of that day filled me with love.
With a final glance, I allowed myself to imagine Mia on crutches with only one leg. A surge of sexual excitement ran through me while I imagined licking her stump. Yet, today marked a turning point for Mia, a step toward healing and recovery. As I readied myself to accompany her to the hospital.
In the weeks following the accident, Mia had established a careful routine that revolved around her broken leg like I did some years ago. I could clearly see in her eyes, her first conscious moments were marked by the awareness of her long leg cast, a reminder of the fragility that disrupted her vibrant college life.
"Good morning, Sarah,"
"Morning, Mia. How's the leg feeling today?"
I would never get used to seeing her eased herself out of bed, her movements a delicate balance accommodating her injury. The plastic protector was a necessary precaution during her morning shower. For a minute I wondered if being an amputee would be easier to deal with then a full leg cast?
"It's still a bit sore, but I think it's getting better," Mia replied with a note of cautious optimism.
As the warm water cascaded over her, from my vantage point, the slightly ajar door granted me glimpses of fuzzy shapes of her naked body, the steam creating an aura around her, "Let me know if you need any help,"
"Thanks, but I think I've got it,"
Stepping out of the shower, she gingerly dried herself, mindful of the weight of her cast as she balanced on her good leg. She selected a jeans skirt that accommodated the bulk of her cast. On her crutches, she navigated her apartment, the rhythmic thud of the crutch tips against the floor echoing. She approached the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee welcoming her as a daily ritual.
As we arrived at the orthopaedic section of the hospital, the familiar scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, with the hushed tones of conversation that underscored the tension of the medical environment. Mia found a seat, carefully settling herself with her broken leg.
Nearby, a young mother cradled her infant with one arm, her other arm was in a green full arm cast. I couldn't help but notice the weary lines on the mother's face, a testament to the challenges of caring for a little one with a broken arm.
Straight across from me, a spirited college cheerleader sat with a pink cast wrapped around her ankle stopping inches below her knee, her eyes glinting with excitement squeezing her boyfriend's hand. She kept the waiting room with a vivid account of how she had executed a daring routine, only to land awkwardly and fracture her ankle. Her energy was infectious.
Beside the cheerleader, a seasoned schoolteacher recounted the mishap that had led to her own fractured ankle. With a hint of humor, she described her valiant attempt at navigating a playground obstacle course, only to find herself sprawled on the ground with a throbbing ankle. Despite her discomfort, her passion for teaching shone through.
Each individual with their own injury and healing process but their paths crossed in this room. While I was happy to listen, Mia's interest and curiosity went farther.
She couldn't help but strike up a conversation with the young mother. "Seems like you've got your hands full," she remarked, nodding toward the baby nestled in the crook of the mother's good arm.
The mother offered a weary smile. "You bet. Little ones don't understand do they?" she said with a touch of affection.
Meanwhile, the cheerleader asked "Aren't you the daughter of the president? Anyway I was like, go big or go home, you know? But I didn't plan on the landing part," she laughed, her eyes staring at Mia legs, admiring her long leg cast, probably why she didn't get a full leg cast.
As the doctor called Mia into the examination room, I followed her behind the door. The physician began explaining the next steps to Mia, his calm and measured voice carrying a reassuring tone.
"The good news is that the fractures are healing well, however, we'll still need to keep it protected for a bit longer. But this time, it'll be a shorter cast but still non weight bearing at first."
"So, this saw uses vibrations to cut through the hard outer shell of the cast without affecting the soft padding inside or your skin. It's specially designed not to harm you during the process," the beautiful nurse explained, her voice calm and reassuring.
"We're almost there," the nurse remarked, Mia's eyes lit up with anticipation, her leg freed from the long cast.
As the last pieces of the cast were removed, the nurse prepared a basin of warm, soapy water. She soaked a soft cloth and began to clean Mia's broken leg, the warm water cascading over her skin, removing any traces of debris left by the cast. Mia relaxed into the gentle touch and the nice sensation of the warm water against her skin.
"There we go, ready for the new cast," I said to Mia looking at her broken leg.
As the nurse's applied the new cast on Mia's leg, I found my thoughts wandering back to our conversation about recreational amputations. The sight of Mia's leg disappearing once more beneath the layers of white layers, how the idea of an amputation simulation had held a sexual fascination for her.
As Mia's gaze fell to her new cast, the shorter cast was smooth and followed her lower leg. Its pristine whiteness seemed to accentuate the delicate curves of her calf, the smooth fiberglass tracing the contours of her limb.
"It's different, isn't it?" She murmured
"You look amazing Mia so beautiful, It's definitely going to be more manageable,"
With a soft smile, I approached Mia, with her crutches in my hands. As she stood,all her weight shifting effortlessly onto her uninjured leg, her shorter cast adding a touch of charm. In that moment, as she stood before me, her gaze meeting mine, I found myself drawn to her.
I leaned in, my lips meeting hers in a tender embrace. In that brief, intimate exchange. As our lips parted, a flicker of mischievous determination crossed my mind, I wanted to surprise her.
Taking her hand in mine, I guided her back to the wheelchair, a playful glint in my eye.
"Let's make getting you comfortable our top priority, and then I have a surprise for you"
Conclusion to come
K
Friday, December 1, 2023
Au-Delà du Plâtre et des Béquilles : Évolution d'une Attirance. partie 4
Ensuite, on m'a équipée d'une paire de béquilles toute neuve pour m'aider à me déplacer. En me levant délicatement du lit d'hôpital, une douleur intense a traversé ma jambe cassée lors du transfert à une chaise roulante. Je quitte l'hôpital dans une chaise roulante, tenant mes béquilles avec ma mère poussant ma chaise. L'air frais à l'extérieur contraste avec l'atmosphère stérile de l'hôpital. Ma mère pousse doucement la chaise roulante, prenant soin de naviguer habilement dans les pentes et les obstacles du chemin vers la voiture. Les regards curieux des passants se tournent vers nous, et d'une manière étrange, je ressens une certaine satisfaction. Pendant tellement longtemps, je souhaitais ardemment avoir un plâtre, et maintenant que les gens regardent ma jambe cassée, c'est un moment de joie. Je réalise que dans les mois à venir, le regard des gens pourrait être teinté de curiosité et de compassion, mais c'est une expérience que j'accueille avec bonheur, une compréhension tacite que chaque pas sur mes béquilles représente une victoire personnelle. En atteignant la voiture, ma mère m'aide à me lever délicatement de la chaise roulante et à m'installer dans le siège arrière. Les béquilles sont soigneusement placées à portée de main. Le trajet de retour à la maison est empreint de calme, ma mère conduisant prudemment tandis que je réfléchis à cette nouvelle phase de ma vie. Nous arrivons devant notre maison, et l'idée de retrouver ma chambre et explorer mon plâtre m'envahit d'une douce excitation sexuelle. Les escaliers devant la porte d'entrée se dressent devant moi. J’approche les marches et avant de commencer à monter, je m'assure que mes béquilles sont bien positionnées de part et d'autre de moi, prêtes à me soutenir. Avec précaution, je pose le pied droit sur la première marche, transférant le poids de mon corps et des béquilles à ma jambe droite. Une fois dans ma chambre, l'atmosphère paisible me pousse à explorer davantage ce nouveau chapitre de ma vie. Je m'approche du mur et, avec un mélange d'audace et d'excitation, j’appuie mes béquilles contre le mur et je sautille du mur jusqu'au lit. Le mouvement, bien que limité par ma jambe plâtrée, ajoute une touche à cette situation. Sur le lit, je m'installe avec précaution. Malgré la douleur persistante dans ma jambe, il y a quelque chose de libérateur dans le mal. Touchant les contours du plâtre je ressens une satisfaction tranquille en contemplant ma nouvelle réalité. Le mal dans ma jambe cassée ne peut éclipser la satisfaction sexuelle que je ressens en ce moment. “Même avec la douleur, je suis contente d'avoir mon plâtre,” je me chuchote à moi-même. Je prends un instant pour apprécier le plâtre qui entoure ma jambe. Ce beau plâtre qui enveloppe toute ma jambe attire naturellement mon attention. Mes doigts se rapprochent lentement de sa surface. La texture est à la fois lisse et granuleuse, créant une sensation unique sous mes doigts de la main gauche. Pendant ce temps, ma main droite se dirige entre mes cuisses, vers ma chatte lisse et je pousse un long soupir de plaisir. Au contact de mon plâtre, je ressens d'abord une fraîcheur légère, comme si le matériau avait conservé la température ambiante de la pièce. Mes doigts explorent délicatement les reliefs du moulage, suivant les contours du plâtre qui devient un prolongement temporaire de ma belle grande jambe. J’écarte doucement ma jambe droite et ma jambe cassée et commence à me caresser la cuisse, puis mes seins. Je sentais mon vagin devenir humide, mes seins se gonflaient, et je sentais le désir monter entre mes jambes. Les bords du plâtre, où la matière rencontre la peau, offrent une transition subtile. La différence de texture entre le plâtre et la bande de coton douce qui le borde créait un contraste distinct et confortable. Gémissant doucement je ressentis une résistance douce du plâtre, rappelant la solidité qui soutient ma jambe cassée et c'était presque comme caresser un long penis en pleine érection. Yummy. Deux de mes doigts se perdent à l'intérieur de ma chatte, faisant des allers-retours toujours plus rapides et profonds. Je tente de rester la bouche fermée, pour qu'aucun son de plaisir sexuel n'en sorte. Le risque de me faire prendre par ma mère est immense, et ça m'excite encore plus avec un plâtre sur ma jambe. La chaleur de ma chatte et de ma peau sous le plâtre crée une connexion intime. En touchant mon plâtre, je ressens non seulement les contours physiques, mais aussi une profonde connexion sexuelle. Ma respiration s'accélère, et se coupe net au moment où mon orgasme envahit mon corps au complet. Je gémit sans vraiment de retenue. Le lendemain matin, éveillée par la lumière du jour, une nouvelle énergie m'envahit. Mon plâtre, encadre ma jambe et prêt à affronter la journée, je choisis soigneusement une tenue qui s'harmonise avec ce nouvel ajout à ma vie. À l'école, l'uniforme est un incontournable et cela même avec une jambe cassée. Courte upe bleu marine, d'une blouse blanche et de bas blancs. Malgré mon plâtre et mes béquilles, je m'apprête à adapter cet ensemble classique à ma situation. Je choisis soigneusement ma jupe bleu marine, qui s'harmonise parfaitement avec mon nouvel accessoire. La blouse blanche vient compléter l'ensemble. En bas, les bas blancs ajoutent une touche de contraste, créant un équilibre visuel. Devant le miroir, je veille à ce que chaque détail s'ajuste avec précision. Délicatement, je tire le bas sur ma jambe droite sans plâtre, m'assurant qu'il repose parfaitement sur la cheville et le mollet. Puis vient le défi de l'autre côté. Avec précaution, je positionne le bas blanc sur mon plâtre à la jambe gauche. Mon bas épouse les contours du plâtre, créant une transition fluide entre le tissu et le matériel médical. Être sur béquilles avec un plâtre n'est pas seulement une nécessité médicale, mais aussi une source de joie. Les béquilles deviennent des compagnons fidèles, propulsant mes pas avec élégance. Les expressions sur les visages de mes camarades se mêlent à une admiration silencieuse. 12 semaines incroyables. Quelques années plus tard à l'université, le cours de ma vie a pris des détours inattendus. C’était maintenant mon tour d'observer avec admiration une personne arborant plâtre et béquilles avec qui je suis tombée en amour. Si cela vous intéresse, je peux vous fournir plus de détails. K
Thursday, November 30, 2023
The president's daughter part 8
In the morning, Mia woke up and swung her leg and cast to the side of the bed, the weight of her long cast reminding her of the task at hand but at least her crutches stood nearby, ready to assist her in her daily routine.
With practice she moved to the bathroom on her crutches, a plastic bag in hand. This bag was her trusty protector, designed to keep her cast dry during the shower. She slid the bag up above the edge of her long cast, ensuring it created a secure barrier against the water.
Leaning on her right foot, she took a deep breath and turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature to her liking. She stepped beneath the warm stream and she felt a sense of relief. The water cascaded over her, washing away the sleep and rejuvenating her spirit.
As she emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel and leaning on her crutches, the steam dispersing around her, I stood by the bed with a pair of jeans. Carefully chosen, I had made a modification, cutting off the left leg to accommodate Mia's long cast.
"Hey, I thought these might work better for you today,"
Mia's eyes lit up with appreciation as she settled onto the bed after dropping her crutches to the floor. I helped her delicately into the jeans.
"Thank you. You always seem to think of everything,"
A soft smile played on my lips, as Mia found her comfort in the jeans and she looked so sexy in those tight fitting jeans with her crutches beside her.
She stood with my help and steadied herself on her crutches and right foot. She then made her way toward me with a grateful smile on her lovely lips, and in a tender display of affection, she leaned in, her lips meeting mine in a sensual kiss.
I gave up trying to hold back, to hide some of my deepest feelings. I took her crutches away, watched her standing on her one leg, balancing. I came closer and gently pushed her against the wall, facing the wall, I was leaning against her. I wrapped my arms around gently rubbing her breasts and nipples.
She moaned, clearly excited, totally turned on by my little domination.
I turned her head sideways and leaned in, her hard cast between my legs and I kissed her lips, biting them softly. I twisted her left arm behind her back while my wet vagina rubbed against the pink cast.
I felt overwhelmed by the sensation of her small hand and wrist twisted in my hand. Chills ran up and down her whole body. I kissed her neck and pulled her twisted left arm even higher, applying more tension on her bones.
"Oh, god what are you going to do to my arm?" She moaned, like in her dream she had lost control physically, sexually and she needed that.
"No Mia not god but Sarah, my question is if I keep twisting and lifting your arm baby until we both hear that sensual but sickening snap, the break of your arm like The Prime minister's sexy wife...
Would you scream in agony or scream from the intense sexual pleasure you would feel?"
Without giving her time to answer, I let go of her arm seconds before it broke from the pressure, turned her around facing me, pulled her even closer and kissed her harder and much more demanding.
She responded by sliding her tongue deep into my mouth and pushing her hard cast against my dripping vagina, pain running up and down her broken leg. I sucked hard and nibbled on her tongue, a deep passionate kiss while her orgasm rocked her whole body.
On this particular morning, as we made our way to the car after our little sexual adventure, Mia's grace caught my eye even more. The cast was becoming an extension of her. She opened the door, dropped her crutches and hopped on her good leg with agility,
"You're getting pretty good at this,"
Mia glanced up, her eyes alight with amusement and still a bit of lust.
"Practice makes perfect, right? You did steal my crutches about 1 hour ago when you pinned me against the wall and almost broke my arm," she licked her lips, rolled her blue eyes and smiled at me.
She settled into the back seat, her movements fluid and sure, her broken leg propped up. I looked at her in the rear-view mirror and said
"It was my pleasure to help you practise miss,"
As we arrived at the bustling gym, her blue eyes lit up with a familiar spark of enthusiasm. With a confident determination, she gracefully exited the car and reached for her crutches, her grip steady and assured as she leaned on them for support. She then made her way toward the entrance, she effortlessly balanced her weight on the crutches and swung her long cast..
"You've got this," I said, opening the door for her. "Always and I love you," she replied, a loving smile gracing her lips as she disappeared into the gym, leaving behind a trail of men and women staring at this tall injured athlete with her full leg cast.
I settled into the stands, my gaze fixed on Mia as she seamlessly melded into the vibrant energy of the gym. Surrounded by her teammates, she was drawing the attention of those around her. With each interaction, she seemed to light up the room, her laughter ringing out amidst the spirited conversations.
I couldn't help but marvel at the way she effortlessly navigated the space on her crutches.
As the practice wound down, Mia made her way up the stairs to where I was seated.
With a playful glint in her eye, she leaned in closer and kissed me, "I'm thinking we could use a little post-practice treat and after the wild sex this morning" she suggested, her voice laced with a mischievous undertone.
"I know just the place, there's this quaint little café not too far from here. They make the most amazing iced coffees."
Her eyes sparkled with delight as she squeezed her crutches. "Iced coffee sounds perfect."
As we headed toward the café, our laughter mingled with the bustle of the city, we had clearly grown together and she really seemed ready to open up.
"You know, I've actually used crutches recreationally before," Mia admitted with a hint of vulnerability opening up.
Not surprised since she was so good on them, I turned to her as she stopped leaning on her crutches, my gaze searching her eyes for any additional sign. "You have?" Mia nodded with lust in her eyes.
"For recreational purposes. I read a story once where one of the characters was an amputee on crutches. There's something oddly exhilarating about wrapping your leg bent at the knee, creating a stump. I love how the crutches made me move and feel, like an extension of your body."
I couldn't help but stare, my curiosity piqued by this unexpected revelation. "Really? I never would have guessed."
Her revelation hung in the air, stirring a whirlwind of sexual images. As I glanced at the long pink cast on her leg, the image of her on crutches for the sake of recreation pretending to be a sexy naked amputee sent a surge through my whole body.
I leaned over her and kissed her sweet lips. She had a persona, a world where the boundaries of conventional norms seemed to fade, replaced by so many possibilities.
"Sara, the idea of wrapping your leg, bent at the knee, to simulate a stump turns me on so bad at night since I broke my leg and we had sex. It would blur the lines between the ordinary and the extraordinary."
"Mia, that's...that's quite an imagination," I finally managed, I wanted her so badly, I was so wet and turned on.
"It would be quite an experience."
Her eyes sparkled with a playful glint, she leaned against a wall, her lips curling into a mischievous smile while she gave me her crutches. I positioned them under my arms.
"Oh, you look amazing on crutches. There's something unique about the way it would make you feel with only one leg, almost like you've unlocked a hidden fetish in you."
I nodded, I listened to her words. I took a few steps on them thinking of Mia's uninhibited exploration of her desires to embrace the facets of her identity that set her apart from the rest.
"I can imagine," I murmured, my gaze lingering on her broken leg, I imagined her left leg amputated at the knee. Her stump between my legs rubbing my wet vagina. As we continued on our way, the thought of Mia on crutches, an amputee, knee high boot on her one leg, 8 months pregnant filled me with a revised acknowledgement of the beauty found in the intricacies of sexual fetishes.
"It's so liberating to be able to talk openly with you" My sexy girlfriend and yes let's not forget the President's daughter said to me looking so happy.
What a mess...
Part 9 to come
K
Wednesday, November 29, 2023
Au-Delà du Plâtre et des Béquilles : Évolution d'une Attirance. partie 3
La rééducation de l'entorse était sur le point de commencer, et avec une détermination renouvelée, je m'élance dans ce parcours incertain. C’est à ce moment là que mes béquilles devinrent mes compagnons fidèles, soutenant chacun de mes pas alors que je me frayais un chemin à travers la routine journalière.
Lors d’un message après ma partie 2 quelqu'un m'a demandé de me décrire, ce que je n’aime pas faire. Grande brunette de 5 pieds 10 pouces, dépassant de loin les normes conventionnelles pour la gymnastique. Je trouve que je combine bien puissance et grâce sur mes béquilles, chaque mouvement dégageant une impression de contrôle. Les béquilles, au lieu de me limiter, semblent être une extension naturelle. De beaux accessoires me rendent plus sexy que jamais.
Les premières semaines furent remplies d'exercices doux, visant à restaurer la mobilité de ma belle cheville blessée. Les séances de physiothérapie étaient intenses, mais je m'accrochais à l'idée que chaque exercice me rapprochait de la pleine récupération. Mes muscles travaillent dur, réapprenant à soutenir mon poids et à retrouver leur force d'antan.
Malgré le confort relatif de la botte et la mobilité qu'elle offrait, il était difficile d'ignorer le désir persistant d'un plâtre. Mon esprit était imprégné de fantasmes de plâtres décorés, témoignant de mon parcours de guérison. La réalité de la botte orthopédique ne faisait que renforcer cette aspiration inassouvie. Ce besoin sexuel d'immobilisation je crois.
Les séances de rééducation ne se limitaient pas seulement à la salle de physiothérapie. À la maison, avec ma mère qui est docteur, je m'engageais dans des exercices supplémentaires, déterminée à accélérer le processus de guérison.
Les semaines se transformèrent en mois, et avec une persévérance inflexible, je progresse dans ma réhabilitation. Les exercices évoluèrent, devenant plus exigeants à mesure que ma cheville gagne en force. Les séances de physiothérapie se transformèrent en des moments de défi et de victoire, avec chaque petit progrès célébré comme une conquête personnelle.
Cependant…
Cependant personne, sauf mon journal, ne connaît le désir persistant d’avoir un plâtre. Les béquilles, bien qu'utiles, n'étaient pas le soutien complet que je fantasmais secrètement. Le plâtre représentait pour moi tellement plus qu’un simple fetish sexuelle.
Alors que je retrouvais progressivement ma mobilité, l'idée de retourner à la gymnastique me hantait. La tension dans l'air avant chaque saut, toutes les possibilités de blessure et de fracture. Mon retour à la gymnastique était maintenant plus qu'une aspiration lointaine ; c'était devenu une destination inévitable.
L'idée persistante du plâtre pouvait attendre, car le chemin vers la reprise de ma carrière en gymnastique s'ouvrait devant moi, j'étais prête à aider mon équipe avec une confiance renouvelée.
J'avais récupéré et je m’entraînais sans relâche pendant des mois, me poussant à de nouvelles limites, et ma performance aux barres asymétriques était cruciale. Mais pendant ma routine, le désastre a frappé.
Alors que je me lançais dans les airs pour ma descente, je savais que quelque chose n'allait pas du tout. Mon corps s'est tordu en plein vol, et j'ai atterri violemment, envoyant des ondes de douleur dans ma jambe gauche comme je ne l'avais jamais ressenti auparavant.
Je me suis effondrée sur le tapis dans l'agonie, incapable de continuer. C'était un moment dévastateur pour ma carrière en gymnastique j’en étais certaine. Mon instinct immédiat était de me redresser, de surmonter la douleur et de poursuivre, mais dès que mes yeux se sont posés sur ma jambe, cette volonté s'est éteinte.
La vision était poignante : ma jambe, autrefois agile et puissante, était maintenant tordue dans une position anormale, gonflée, marquée et brisée par la brutalité de l'impact. Chaque tentative de mouvement était accueillie par des vagues de douleur lancinante, confirmant l'évidence que se relever n'était tout simplement pas une option.
C'était comme si la réalité de ma blessure avait figé le temps.
La compétition a été interrompue, et j'ai été rapidement prise en charge par l'équipe médicale de garde. Ma jambe brûlait de douleur, et je pouvais sentir les larmes de joie monter à mes yeux. La réalisation que je ne pouvais pas terminer la compétition, encore moins continuer l'entraînement pour un avenir prévisible si jamais, m'a frappée durement. La deuxième réalisation était que cette fois, c'était cassé.
Le personnel médical a évalué ma condition et Ils ont soigneusement immobilisé ma jambe, appliquant une attelle gonflable temporaire pour fournir un soutien et minimiser les blessures supplémentaires. Je me souviens de la sensation froide et rigide de l'attelle lorsqu'ils l'ont fixée en place, une sensation qui deviendra plus tard un souvenir étrangement réconfortant.
Selon mes heures d'expérience, en regardant diverses blessures aux jambes en ligne et sur des sites fétichistes, la déformation de ma jambe gauche suggérait que j'avais probablement fracturé mon tibia et le fibula.
De là, j'ai été transportée d'urgence à l'hôpital pour une évaluation plus détaillée. Les radiographies ont révélé l'étendue des dégâts, une triple fracture de la jambe qui nécessiterait un plâtre complet de la jambe pendant des mois et une rééducation très longue. Alors que je gisais sur le lit d'hôpital, je ne pouvais m'empêcher de ressentir un mélange de frustration, de déception, de peur et d'une incroyable excitation physique et sexuelle pour ce qui m'attendait.
SVP, ne me jugez pas pour l'excitation sexuelle que je ressentais ; au fond de moi, je savais que finalement, j'allais avoir ce plâtre que j'avais secrètement désiré. Nous réagissons tous de façon différente.
J'ai été emmenée dans une salle de radiographie. Un radiologiste positionne l'objectif sur ma jambe gauche et m'a demandé de rester aussi immobile que possible. Repositionnée à trois occasions, la douleur était très intense.
J'étais de retour dans la salle lorsque le docteur est revenu et a placé quatre radiographies sur un écran lumineux fixé au mur.
“Fracture, du tibia et du fibula, je vais devoir réduire correctement la fracture du tibia mais ca ne devrais pas etre trop compliquer”
Le docteur a doucement saisi mon pied gauche dans ses mains alors que l'infirmière établissait une prise ferme sur mon genou. Il a commencé à appliquer une pression constante sur mon pied le tordant suivis du sons de mes os cassés se remettant en place.
Le spécialiste orthopédique expliquait la procédure alors qu'ils s'apprêtaient à envelopper ma jambe au complet dans un un beau plâtre. Au début, une couche douce de coton autour de ma jambe pour protéger ma peau, suivie du plâtre. Il a été trempé dans de l'eau chaude et moulé avec une précision, durcissant lentement en un enveloppement solide. La chaleur du matériau contre ma peau procurait une étrange sensation de réconfort.
Une fois le plâtre terminé, ils ont coupé les extras, laissant seulement mes orteils exposés.
Je regarde avec émerveillement mon plâtre noir, qui englobe complètement ma jambe, depuis le pied jusqu'au sommet de ma cuisse. Courbé au niveau du genou ce qui va m’empêcher de poser le plâtre au sol.
Partie 4 a venir
K