Picture is from Paige's Pages, my all-time favorite model site!!!
He heard her before he saw her. Heard that subtle ‘step – thump’ of someone walking on crutches. It wasn’t something most people noticed, but it was something I had been attuned to since grade school. I felt my pulse quicken and my heartbeat seemed to triple. She had said she had a ‘special surprise’ but I had no idea what. A hundred things ran through my mind, a thousand, but with that simple ‘step – thump’ sound coming from the hallway, all my thoughts and fantasies came racing in one big jumbled image.
She came around the corner in one of her sexier outfits – not slutty at all, but showing enough skin to let the imagination run wild. A nice, form-fitting top and knee-length skirt, knee socks, and…
I barely noticed the outfit, I have to admit. She came walking in using the forearm crutches, which always made me hot, but tonight she wore something new – something I had never seen before, at least not on her. Sleek steel braces attached to low-slung black leather shoes, caressed her legs from ankles to thighs, and attached with wide black leather cuffs at her thighs and knees. They were the real thing, not some home made props – they had the knee locks, the ankle pivots, everything was perfect.
She crutched into the room slowly but gracefully – a classic swing-through gait that it looked as if she had practiced for years. Crutches go in front, placed evenly, then the legs brought up and swung through the uprights, moving forward one swing-step at a time. It was pure poetry. I couldn’t explain why, god knows I’ve tried, but it was just how it was, how I ‘worked’. After a lifetime of confusion and guilt, the ‘why’ of it all ceased to matter, it just ‘was’.
She told me to have a seat, and she made her way to the refrigerator, pulling out a few items, one at a time, and carefully placing them on the counter. She talked about her day, about work, about friends, and she started making a simple dinner, something she had done a hundred times before, maybe a thousand. But it was like I was seeing it for the first time. I couldn’t speak, My heart pounded in his chest like an African war drum. I felt my arousal in my entire body, not just my cock. She stood there, crutches leaning against the wall, her braced legs moving side to side as she cooked. There was no reason why seeing her make me dinner should do this to me, but my mind raced, my pulse was racing, my hands sweaty.
I asked if she needed any help setting the table – it was only polite, right? She laughed and said no, she’d take care of everything. And she did, cooking the dinner, making some salad. She crutched over to the cabinets and pulled out plates, cups, all expertly done, no struggling or falling over. It was no different from any other night, but it was so different it may as well have been on a different planet, or in the middle of some sultan’s harem. She set the table, poured me a drink, gave me bread and then served me his meal. My hands were shaking as I watched her put her plate and glass at the table then slowly, even sensually lowered herself to her seat, her legs locked in the braces and sticking straight out in front of her. She wasn’t going to, couldn’t possibly, then… ‘click’ – the unlocked the left brace and pulled her leg in, bending at the knee so she was in a more natural sitting position. My heart skipped three beats and I felt himself nearing orgasm just sitting there, wearing jeans and a t-shirt with chicken and potatoes in my plate. ‘Click’ went the other brace and I may have let out a low moan. She didn’t seem to notice, but I was pretty sure she had heard. The nearly imperceptible smile that crossed her lips as she pulled her other leg under the table, positioned her chair and began to eat, her crutches leaned against the wall.
Nothing was ever said about the crutches, the braces – nothing needed to be said. She was saying everything she wanted to just sitting there, the leather and steel wrapped sensually, erotically around her thighs, her calves, her feet. I was saying everything in the way my eyes never left her, how they kept flitting down, as if I could see through the wooden tabletop. I kept glancing to the right, almost unconsciously, looking at her forearm crutches just leaning against the wall, not doing anything at all yet taunting me, calling out to me, making my mind fill with thoughts and dreams and desires I’d never spoken aloud.
Dinner was done and she instructed me to head to the living room while she straightened up. As if she expected me to take my eyes off the pitchers mound in the last inning of the World Series. I stayed and watched her move deftly about the kitchen, sometimes with crutches, sometimes without. I had no idea if she had gotten the braces months ago and practiced when she was alone, or if she was just so naturally graceful that even in heavy orthopedic braces she moved like a dancer. A sexy, legbrace-wearing dancer, but a dancer nonetheless.
Dinner and cleanup done, we retied to the living room. I yearned for the bedroom, truth be told, but she obviously had a plan in mind, and by this time I was helpless to resist. I sat on the couch, she slowly sat beside me, lowering herself on stiff legs, setting the crutches aside, and then in the ultimate erotic gesture, asked me to help her get her legs up on my lap. I gladly complied, and as soon as I touched those braced legs it was like an electric shock through my whole body. I lifted her legs and lay them across a pillow and over my lap. She wiggled a bit to get comfortable and the heels of her brace-connected shoes rubbed my crotch a few times until, without warning, I came with a low moan of pleasure and an immediately red face. She again pretended not to notice, but asked if I was comfortable with her braces across my lap – not her legs, but her braces. She knew how I objectified them, that as much as I was aroused and satisfied by her normal everyday legs, that this was an experience that my brain was hardwired to go into overdrive for. I looked at her braced legs, her crutches laying there innocently, and it was more potent than the best porn movie, more arousing than a thousand lap dances. She just sat there, fully clothed and chatting about something innocuous, a Law and Order episode maybe, but in my mind I may as well have been watching porn. I didn’t understand it and honestly didn’t care, this was heaven and every dirty erotic dream I’d ever had laying right across my lap.
TV watching didn’t last long. I started rubbing her legs and after five minutes I may as well have been rubbing my own penis as aroused as I was getting. She saw my urgency, reveled in it as she asked to help her get her legs down, and then the coup de gras, asked me to hand her the crutches. I could do nothing by comply, and silently followed her as she slowly crutched to the bedroom. I would have walked around the globe for her at this point, all rational thought replaced by my desires, my bizarre fetish fantasies made real. She told me to sit on the bed and I did so without a word. She then proceeded to do the most amazing erotic strip tease in the history of the world. If all the best strip teases in the world were rolled up into one supreme strip tease dance of the Gods, that would come in a pale second the to sensuality and erotic perfection I witnessed in her slow, sometimes clumsy attempts to balance on braces and crutches and slip off her shirt, then her bra, then undo her skirt and let it slip to the floor. It hung a little on one of her braces, so she had to wiggle her leg a little to get it to drop.
She stood there then, naked except for the steel and leather braces and her knee-socks. She was like a Goddess, so radiant she nearly hurt my eyes to look at. I thought that it had to be a dream of some sort – maybe even a head injury, I was lying on the floor somewhere bleeding and this was the scene my damaged brain decided to torment me with. Then she touched me and I shuddered, my whole body shook with desire. She helped me get my shirt off, balancing on her braces and one crutch, and then I too the rest off, stripping down to my naked soul in front of her. She asked for help onto the bed and I nearly tripped over myself to comply, helping her sit and moving her braced legs into position as she directed. She told me to eat her out, and it was as if I didn’t even have a choice – my body just did as she asked. I lay on the bed and moved into position and my head and arms touched the wide leather cuffs holding her braces on. I shivered again and begin kissing and licking her, all the while my arousal and desire growing fast and furious.
I felt the stiff, unforgiving braced legs rubbing against me, stole sideways glances at the crutches leaning near the bed, positioned just for me, I grew more and more aroused, almost crazed with the fever running through me. She moaned aloud and I redoubled my efforts at her hot and ready sex, rubbing her clit, playing with her anus as I licked and sucked at her mound. I was fully committed and driven, the caresses of her braced legs goading me on further and further. She moaned louder and louder until finally she let out a long howl of pleasure and her back arched sharply – her legs were stuck in their locked position and the pressure she put against them in her throes of orgasm make me even hotter. She finally pushed my head aside once she had come to completion several times, and I dutifully backed away.
She told me to undo her braces for her, and I though I would black out. Even though I could have done it blindfolded in a hurricane, she guided me through every strap and buckle until both braces slipped off her gorgeous, perfect legs. I placed the braces near the crutches, leaning against the wall where I could have full view of them, and she reached over and handed me a bottle of lubricant. She told me what she wanted me to do with it and I wasn’t sure I could. I wasn’t sure my hands and arms would be able to accomplish such a task. But I did as she asked and lifted her legs in my hands, moistening her feet with the lubricant, and began to rub myself with her feet, her legs a sexy and erotic dead weight in my hands as I rubbed her feet up and around my shaft. Using her limp toes to play with my balls, her smooth insteps to rub up and down my incredibly aroused cock, pressing both feet together and masturbating with what , just for tonight, was a perfect pair of useless legs and feet, complete with braces and crutches. The details didn’t matter – the never did in my fantasies. Never a thought about car wrecks or physical therapy or permanent disability. In my mind it was all about this – make believe and fantasy made real for that one perfect moment, a shimmering make-believe shattered by a healthy orgasm and the flick of the light switch….
It didn’t take long before I climaxed, shooting hot and white all over her feet and the mattress. It was done and I collapse to the bed, breathing heavy, my body aching form the constant and extreme level of arousal. I feel like I can barely move, but I know if she asks me to do anything – lift a car, move a dresser, anything – I would do it no matter what. Instead, I hold her close and pass out in her arms, smelling sweat and our sex and just a faint, ever so faint hint of fresh leather…
I wake up under the covers and it was as if waking from a dream. No crutches, no braces, all the accoutrements of the previous evening’s encounter stored away in some sacred sepulcher. Even if they never see the light of day again, they had served their purpose, their twilight task ingrained in every erotic thought contained in my head. One perfect evening locked forever in my heart and mind.
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