Life Buoy for an Amputee or an Amputee Who Is a Life Buoy?
Chapter 1: Life with one leg

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Fiction, Cheating, Revenge, Lactation, Amputee, Violent,

Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1: Life with one leg - Will an amputee find love after being cheated on?

I was a normal child, born with two legs, like everyone else but that didn’t last long. It is a blessing that I now have a happy life but let me tell you the story from the beginning.

My name is Wendy Adair and I was born into a middle class family. My father, George Adair, was the owner of a financial advisory firm and quite wealthy. My mother, Sharolta Adair, was stay-at-home mother and wife who raised we three children. There is me, the youngest, my elder brother Carl, and my sister Jessica. My mother came from Hungary where my maternal grandparents still live in Budapest. Jessica was attending college taking business administration, and Carl, already graduated, was working for an architectural firm. I wanted to be a primary school teacher, because I liked younger children very much. I had given my virginity to my high school sweetheart, Don. He and I planned to go to the same college where he would study to become a chemist.

After graduation we had this last summer to enjoy before the hard work of university started. All went well until one evening, as usual, we went dancing with our usual friends. We generally refused any sort of drugs, but this evening, our group, unfortunately decided to experiment a little. Don’s friend Frank drove everybody home in his car, even though he was under the influence of the drugs like the rest of us.

That was how the accident happened. Frank didn’t see the dairy transport tanker until it was too late and my life changed for ever.

Everybody was hurt to some degree but I was the most seriously injured; the rescue crew had to cut me free from the car. They got me out alive, but my right leg was so damaged by crush injuries, it could not be saved and the surgeons had to amputate. I will never forget the shock when I awoke in my hospital bed. They said I was lucky even to survive – true but of little consolation at the time. The others in the car recovered quickly but I was not so fortunate. They started their college lives, while I had to learn to live with one leg. Don went to college and his love for the amputee vanished in the distance.

After all the years it is interesting that Becky my youngest and Don’s eldest are classmates in primary school. Don avoids me when he sees me at parent/school meetings or in town. I know he feels a great deal of remorse for abandoning me but I don’t care. I have a good husband and we are blessed with two beautiful, smart and healthy children and enjoy a great life together.

But let me go back in time and tell you how my husband and I became a married couple, and how we live our life.

After the accident my life took a turn and even the simplest things became a challenge. I was always a good student and focused on what I had to do to learn to cope with my new condition. I lived at home with my parents and, although a little depressed at first, started to accustom my self to this change in my life. Family support and my love of life eventually triumphed and I used my crutches to get about more and more. With practice and blessed by youth, I became very adept and walked our neighborhood streets, venturing further away as I got more accustomed to everything. My parents bought a Ford Focus station wagon with an automatic transmission and I put my crutches in the back seat and drove anywhere I needed to go.

I was still an attractive young woman; blond hair, blue eyes and firm, C cup breasts. I caused a stir in the places I went but my list of acquaintances had mostly dwindled to the shop assistants and waitresses of the places I visited. My old classmates were away in college, so I didn’t have many friends to talk to. Only one of my high school classmates, Jane, visited me sometimes but that was irregular at best as she was at college too.

Later, though, when getting about was no longer such a challenge, I got so snappy at home that my mother thought I should devote myself to some “useful activity”. She urged me to help with the housework but moving in narrow places turned out to be more difficult than in the spacious streets and malls. Simple household chores were a tough nut for a cripple!

It was my brother and Dad who finally solved this; between them they invented and fabricated equipment that helped me to do whatever I wanted, or rather, whatever my parents wanted me to do. They changed the whole house, they really did! The renovations included the replacing the kitchen furniture (a rolling chair was permanently stationed in the middle, while low benches offered comfortable and safe support on all sides), the installation of special frames to lean against, and handrails all around the walls to hold onto. As well there were massive poles connecting the floor with the ceiling, built in exactly like in a pole-dance studio. My sister often laughed at these, and kept saying we lived in a cross between a subway carriage and a strip club.

My brother would add, grinning, “I bet you’re gonna have a house just like this one day and a good husband too ... to watch you stripping on the poles for him!”

“Yeah, and that’ll make him want you ... so you can’t escape starting a family you know; you’ll want a couple of kids to play on your jungle gym,” Jessica giggled in my ear, hugging me in the loving way she always did.

I could tell that under the humor they really meant it. Glancing around at my monkey bars, I didn’t quite believe them, but I was wrong.

Using the frames I assisted my Mom every day, and no wonder I became a housework expert, indeed, a dream of a housewife. Washing up and washing were a piece of cake, cleaning went smooth and quick, but best of all I turned out to be a first-class cook! I learned to cook foreign cuisines but especially the Hungarian style of my Mom’s origin. My favorite dish was Hungarian Goulash soup and I prepared it excellently. As soon as I began to be useful at home, my depression disappeared and I became more cheerful. I was lucky to have as good a sense of humor as the rest of my family. That was what helped me through the worst of times.

My sex life was bleak at best; I had a vibrator and I masturbated and that was it. I was a beautiful girl, so I met some men, but except for some one-night stands and flings I didn’t have a boyfriend. Nobody wanted me as a constant companion. Like I said, my siblings were convinced that I would have a good husband and children but I was totally skeptical about that. I thought of myself as a loser, dream about kids and family in an unattainable, eternal fantasy.

My sister once said that it was unlikely I would find a husband amongst the normal group of bachelors so I would have to seek my lover in a different group. I stared at her blankly. “A different circle? Does he have to be a cripple like me, or what?”

“No, of course not! Well, not necessarily ... umm, at least, not the way you think.”

“What the hell you mean?” I hated her elusive answers.

“Oh, you’ll understand when you’re a little older,” she shrugged, leaving me confused. Now I know what she meant.

Meanwhile, both my brother and my sister married, moving into their own homes and began baby production. I stayed at home with my parents although I was almost twenty-one. Too bad! But, to do something with my life, I started learning PC skills and was soon pretty good at the net.

When my twenty-first birthday came, my family organized a party for me. My brother, for some obscure reason, arranged that his colleague, that is, the co-owner of the construction firm he had recently founded, also got invited to my party. At first I panicked, but deep inside I was really looking forward to meeting him ... though given the circumstances, I didn’t know what to expect.

Chapter 2 »