Monday, May 20, 2024
Sunday, May 19, 2024
Mom & Daughter chapter 2
Mom & Daughter
Chapter 2
From Hannah POV
I'm Hannah, Sarah's daughter, I'm a tall brunette and today has been one of those days. As I stand by the door, watching the clock tick by since I forgot my mom's house key, I can't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling within me.
Mom's usual return time from work draws near, and I'm eagerly anticipating her arrival. It's not just about seeing her; it's about seeking her comforting presence, especially after the argument I had with my husband earlier. OK it wasn't an argument but a fight. We've only been married a year and I think he is cheating on me with his office assistant.
The tension from the disagreement still lingers in the air, weighing heavily on my mind. I don't know who sent me the photos of the two of them but I need a break, a moment for me from the chaos of daily married life and the strain in my relationship with him. Mom has always been my rock, the one I turn to for guidance, understanding and acceptance.
As I hear the familiar sound of the door opening, my heart skips a beat. Mom enters in her wheelchair rolling towards me. Her presence alone brings a sense of calmness to the room, a reassuring reminder that everything will be okay.
"Hey, Mom," I greet her with a smile, walk to her and kiss her on the cheek trying to mask the turmoil brewing inside me.
"Hey, sweetheart," Mom responds, her eyes filled with concern as she takes in my body language. We exchange a knowing look, a silent understanding passing between us. Without needing to say a word, Mom knows that I need her, her listening ear, and her presence.
We settle into the living room, I watch in admiration as Mom gracefully prepares to transfer from her wheelchair to the couch similar to what she did from her crutches when she was in a cast when I was still at home. Despite her weak and sexy legs she manages to get on the couch with only minor trouble. She swings her legs and then uses her strong arms to pull herself on the couch.
I find myself opening up to Mom about the argument with my husband, the frustrations, and the need for a "break". Her words of wisdom and empathy wash over me, soothing the storm of emotions within me inside her strong embrace. As Mom and I sit in the living room, sharing, I realise how tired I am. The weight of the fight with my husband and the stress of my daily life have taken their toll. With a sigh, I gently interrupt our conversation.
"Mom, I'm really tired. I think I'll go to my room and rest for a bit," I say, my voice tinged with weariness.
Mom nods understandingly, "Of course, sweetheart. Take all the time you need. We can chat more tomorrow."
With a grateful smile, I make my way to my room, keeping the door partly open behind me. The familiar comfort of my personal space envelops me right away, offering a sanctuary from the outside world. It is like mom's leg casts protected her broken limbs years ago. As I settle onto my bed, my thoughts drift to the box tucked away in the corner of my old closet. Inside are a few ace bandages and air cast that are left over of a past fascination that I've kept hidden from everyone, even Mom.
I've never broken a bone but I've always been intrigued by medical accessories, much like Mom's love for casts, crutches and now her sexy wheelchairs. There's something oddly comforting about the texture of ace bandages on your sprained ankle, the way it wraps snugly around the injured limbs, offering support and stability.
I unwrap one of the bandages, running my fingers along the fabric as memories flood back. I remember the first time I found Mom's collection of ace bandages, casts and crutches, hidden away in the attic and in her bedroom. It sparked a curiosity within me, a fascination about the stories they hold both medical, recreational and sexual.
With gentle movements like if I was injured, I position the air-cast around my ankle, ensuring that it fits snugly but comfortably. The soft padding inside provides a cushioning effect. Securing the straps of the air-cast, I adjust them to the perfect fit, making sure that my ankle was well-supported.
As I carefully wrap the ace bandage over the air cast and around my left foot, ankle, and lower leg, a wave of sexual pleasure washes over me, between my legs. The fabric's gentle embrace feels familiar, like the comforting hug from Mom earlier, the feel of her partly crippled but sexy long legs.
With each loop of the bandage, I feel a sense of connection deepen. As the bandage snugly secures my lower limb, It's not just about the physical support; it's about the pure sensual connection that comes with it. The soft texture of the bandage against my skin reminds me of my beautiful, tall Mom on her crutches..
I hear the rhythmic sound of Mom's wheelchair drawing closer to my door. It's a familiar sound as she pauses outside my room, looking in the crack, the opening, I sense her presence, her silent support enveloping me like a warm embrace. I imagine Mom looking in, her eyes filled with admiration and attraction. She sees me, wrapped in the ace bandage, and I can almost feel her acceptance radiating through the door. I think she finally knows the significance of this act, the unspoken action that I need more, so much more.
I love the way it feels to slide my bandage lower leg and foot against my other leg, something I never admitted to anyone. I slowly massage the bandage and air cast, sliding my long fingers up and down my legs, pulling them apart... Because of my actions I hear a soft moan from mom sitting in her wheelchair outside my door.
As I reach for my vagina I can feel the heat and wetness. I imagine being kissed inside my thighs. Lightly kissing my shaven vulva. "Oh god..." I slide my fingers in closer and closer to my clitoris. I'm so turned on, moving my hips in earnest, humping, pushing my fingers faster and faster. I can tell that I'm so close to my orgasm. I kept at it, finger against my clit, I lifted my ass right off the bed, arching my back putting pressure and weight against my recreational injured ankle.
"Ohhhhhh, my ankleeeee, oh god!" I moan. "Oh god. Mom" Struggling to catch my breath,from a powerful and amazing orgasm, I listen to mom wheelchair roll back to her bedroom.
The next morning, as I slowly awaken to the gentle rays of morning light filtering through the curtains, my gaze falls upon a pair of aluminium crutches standing beside my bed. Mom must have placed them there while I slept, a silent gesture of support and understanding. The sight of the crutches stirs sexual emotions within me with gratitude for Mom's thoughtfulness and a sense of determination to face the days and possible weeks ahead.
I reach out and run my fingers along the smooth surface of the crutches, feeling their sturdy build and the promise of mobility and sexual pleasure they offer. With a deep breath, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my eyes fixed on my left lower leg and ankle still wrapped and protected in my air cast.
Carefully, I stand up, using the crutches for support keeping my left knee bent. The familiar sensation of the handles in my palms brings a sense of determination. With each step, I grow more accustomed to the rhythm of the crutches, their metallic clang echoing softly in the room. As I gingerly make my way towards the living room, I can't help but feel a surge of love and gratitude. Mom's silent gesture speaks volumes, reminding me that I'm not alone with these sexual fetishes.
As I enter the living room, I notice Mom sitting in her favourite chair. She's dressed comfortably in yoga pants and a loose-fitting top, laptop on her lap. Her eyes light up as she sees me on my crutches. Her wheelchair sits beside her, its sleek design complementing the peaceful atmosphere of the room. Mom's relaxed posture and gentle smile welcome me to this new world.
I take a moment to admire her, the way her hair falls in soft waves around her face, the way her eyes sparkle with affection. Despite the challenges she faces, she's calm and graceful.
With a smile of my own, I greet her. "Good morning, Mom. Thank you for the crutches. They're really helping, since I can't really put any weight on my sprained ankle" I say, gratitude filling my voice.
Mom's looks at me, I'm leaning lightly on the crutches like a pro. "I knew they would come in handy. How are you feeling today? How's the ankle?" she asks, her excitement to this play evident in her voice.
"I'm doing okay. It feels good to be up and moving on crutches" I reply, taking a few cautious steps with the crutches.
Mom nods, her eyes following my movements, my legs I know she likes. "You're doing great, Hannah. I'm proud of you," I pause, looking back at Mom. "Thanks, Mom. Your support to this new opening means a lot to me," I say, feeling a lump form in my throat.
Mom smiles and slowly transfers to her wheelchair, a silent understanding passing between us when she rolls closer to me. At that moment, as I stand on the crutches with Mom in her wheelchair beside me, I feel an intense sexual excitement when she leans down and grabs my wrapped ankle and lower leg in her hand and places my injured ankle on her lap.
I feel at that moment that I can face any challenges coming my way.
She gently runs her fingers along the wrapped bandage. "I think it's time to take a look at this injured ankle," Mom says softly.
Mom begins to carefully unwrap the ace bandage from my ankle and lower leg. Each layer peels away, revealing the small air-cast underneath. As the bandage comes off, I feel a sense of relief, the pressure and tightness easing away. Once the bandage is removed, Mom turns her attention to the air-cast. With careful precision, she unfastens the straps and gently lifts the air-cast off my ankle. Then she leans over my foot and ankle and kisses it, I feel her wet lips on my ankle. Her hands slightly bending my ankle.
"I'll always be here for you, sweetheart. No matter if your ankle is sprained or if we discover a break with the Xrays " she says, her eyes conveying a depth of love for my new situation and injury wondering how far I will go. Wondering how far she will go, sweet mom.
Chapter 3
To come
K
Saturday, May 18, 2024
Friday, May 17, 2024
Mom & Daughter chapter 1
Mom & Daughter
Chapter 1
From Mom POV
My name is Sarah, let me tell you a bit about myself. I'm a single mom, and my life and my love for fetishes over the years have thrown me some interesting curves. One of those lovely adjustments that I needed to do was the fact that I use a wheelchair almost permanently, but that doesn't define me. What defines me is my love for life, unexpected experiences and my beautiful daughter.
Physically, I'm 5 foot 10, with cute wavy red hair that always seems to have a mind of its own. People often compliment me on my long legs, a fact that I take pride in since you could say that my first attraction to a woman is her legs.. Despite using a wheelchair, I still love wearing high heels because there's something empowering about rocking a pair of heels that adds a bit of flair to my style.
Sexually I love and need men and women in my life and that adds another layer of complexity to my life. It was one of the reasons for my divorce, love has never been a simple path for me, but it's always been worth exploring. I've learned that love doesn't always fit into neat boxes or follow expected paths. Sometimes, it surprises you when you least expect it. You'll see...
So, here I am, navigating life's twists and turns, open to whatever the universe has in store for me. Little did I know, my life was about to take a turn that would challenge everything I thought I knew about love, sexual connection and the importance or the beauty of some of my fetishes.
Growing up, I developed a deep fascination with injuries, particularly those affecting the legs and ankles. It was very sexual early on in my life. At night alone in my room I would pleasure myself looking at images, videos of men and women in cast and crutches, wheelchairs or recalling in my mind accidents that happened during practices. This interest increased from a combination of factors, including my own experiences with minor and major injuries and a natural curiosity about the human body. I was interested in the medical aspects of these injuries and rehabilitation out of sheer curiosity.
However, over the years, this fascination evolved into something more complex, a deep need to be the patient, the injured one. I developed a love and need for casts and crutches, not just from a medical perspective but also from a recreational one. It's as if I've lived two lives in parallel, the open one as a regular, tall athletic girl and later a woman going about my daily routines, and the other as someone who lived with intense sexual fetishes. I always imagined myself navigating life on crutches, wrapped ankle, leg brace or leg casts.
This secret fetish became a significant part of my life, a source of comfort and sexual excitement that I kept hidden from those closest to me. My ex-wife, my ex-husband, and even my daughter, who is now 20 and married, have never known in detail about these sides of me. It's not something I openly discuss or share, preferring to keep it as my private sanctuary and when I do share, I use various personas.
Being a woman, the beauty of casts and crutches is multifaceted for me. On one hand, there's the practical aspect when I was injured for mobility and medical reasons. On the other hand, there's a more emotional connection, a fascination with the idea of temporary or permanent sexual vulnerability and the strength that comes with controlling my various fetishes.
Despite the secrecy surrounding this aspect of my life at first anyway, I've never felt ashamed of my interests. They're a part of who I am, adding depth and complexity to my identity. And little did I know, these hidden passions were about to intersect with my reality and my daughter's life in ways I never imagined.
My daughter, Hannah, is now 20 years old. She's a bright and ambitious young art teacher, full of dreams and aspirations. From a young age, Hannah showed a passion for the arts, particularly painting and writing. Her creativity knows no limits, and I've always admired her dedication to pursuing her passions the way she wants to do it. From very erotic stories to nude male paintings.
Hannah is also a deeply compassionate person. She has a natural ability to connect with others and has a close-knit group of friends whom she cherishes dearly. Her empathetic nature extends to her volunteer work, where she's involved in various community initiatives, especially those related to health awareness. Mental and physical health and that complicate things with me and my need over the years to be broken or injured intentionally.
Despite her young age, Hannah took a leap of faith and got married a year ago. Her partner, Mark is a kind-hearted individual who shares her love for creativity, adventure and I'm sure others interests that me, the mom, does not know about. Together, they make a dynamic duo, supporting each other through life's ups and downs.
However, there's a side of me that Hannah doesn't know about. She's aware of my wheelchair use and the challenges I face but not my love to be in my wheelchair and turn heads everywhere I roll. She's never known of my secret interests in injuries, casts, and crutches. I've always shielded her from this part of my life, not wanting to burden her with something that may be difficult to understand or even accept.
Our relationship is built on love and trust, and I cherish every moment we spend together. While I keep this aspect of myself hidden, I also wonder how she would react if she ever discovered these secret fetishes of mine. Would she understand, or would it be a source of confusion and discomfort? As Hannah continues to navigate adulthood and build her own life, I find myself pondering these questions, unsure of whether it's time to reveal this hidden part of myself to her or not. She never broke any bones or needed crutches in her life for any reason, would she understand?
In my case life had a way of shaping me, sometimes in unexpected ways. For me, it was a series of accidents and multiple broken bones that led me to where I am today, in either full leg braces and crutches or my sexy wheelchair, a choice I made for myself by using my wheelchair almost all the time.
It all started with a clear understanding of the injuries potential of competitive gymnastics from a very young age. Varies sprains and fractures to both legs and ankles. A skiing accident for my sweet 16 birthday badly broke my right leg. The worst accident was a terrible motorcycle accident, the impact was severe, resulting in a fractured femur and multiple breaks in both legs. The road to recovery was long and challenging, marked by surgeries, leg casts and rehabilitation sessions. Despite the setbacks, I remained determined to regain some of my mobility and independence.
It's almost impossible for me to clearly explain my total sexual excitement of spending close to a year in various leg casts and crutches. I felt tall, beautiful and sexy on my crutches with lovely long leg casts.
Over the years, however, additional accidents followed, each one leaving its mark on my legs and ankles. The fractures and breaks became a recurring pattern. One of the consequences was peripheral neuropathy, leading to the inevitable use of full leg braces and crutches for mobility. It was a lovely transitional use of my long legs.
Eventually, I faced a choice, continue using crutches and long leg braces or opt for a wheelchair for mobility. After careful consideration and discussions with my doctor, I chose the wheelchair. It was a decision based on practicality since if you combine the condition of my legs, nerves and diabetes, it was only a question of time. After modification of my house, my wheelchair allows me to navigate my daily life with greater ease and comfort. Let's be honest, if you look at my photos, I think I look decent in my chair at least I try.
Contrary to what some may assume, my wheelchair isn't a symbol of limitation; in a way it's the opposite. It's opened up new possibilities. The decision to transition from crutches and long leg braces to a wheelchair was not made lightly
As I roll towards my office ramp, I take pride in my appearance. High heel shoes, hair in a neat ponytail. Ascending the ramp, I maintain a steady pace, my movements fluid, making sure I navigate the incline efficiently. It's a routine part of my day, but it also serves as a reminder of the importance of inclusive design in the workplace.
From crutches, casts, leg braces and my daughter Hannah, I have a constant source of support and laughter, she's called Diana. It's a sunny afternoon when my phone rings, and I see Diana's name flashing on the screen. Without hesitation, I answer, greeted by her familiar voice filled with warmth and excitement.
Chapter 2 to come
K
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