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by Connie D.
Hi, this is Connie again. You may remember by story about how I met Sheila, the crippled psychologist, and how we got to be more than friends (see My Wish). Well, this is a story about how she got me to help one of her clients.
Sheila was treating this guy, I'll call him Tom (that's not his real name), for a certain anxiety problem. It seems that he was having trouble with sex. He could not get an erection no matter what he tried, and his physician could find nothing physically wrong with him, so she referred him to Sheila.
After several sessions, Sheila managed to get information out of him that he was attracted to her because she is in a wheelchair (which you and I know she doesn't need). So she began to build on this, and he began to improve slightly.
Sheila didn't want to get involved with him herself, you know, ethics, so she told him about this friend she has--me. She didn't tell him I am the best pretender in the world, but she did tell him I was crippled.
She told him I am 5' 4" with long blonde hair, a cute figure (34C-24-35), and an adventurous personality (all true of course). She also told him that I wear two long leg braces and use crutches to walk.
She described him to me as 5' 11", about 175, medium build, and dark curly hair, with a great sense of humor. I told her it would be all right for him to ask me out and that I would do whatever I could for him.
He called and asked me to dinner and a movie. He was obviously very nervous, and I tried to be extra nice to him on the phone.
Sheila bought an outfit for me to wear for him and helped me select just the right "accessories." I was to be the girl in black--and chrome!
Under the black micro-miniskirt and black silk blouse, I wore black crotchless pantyhose and a little shelf bra so my nipples could be seen plainly against the black silk.
The accessories I wore were chrome polished long leg braces with two black patent leather thigh straps on each leg, a matching cradle around the back of both calves, and black patent t-strap shoes with round toes and three-inch straight heels (not spikes, about an inch in diameter). From the knee joint down, the brace uprights were made of round steel, so the round channels to attach the braces were riveted to the shoes where the heel meets the soles.
I had deliberately left the front door slightly open so that when he rang the bell, I could call to him to let himself in. When he entered the living room, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head. I was sitting on a bar stool with my legs crossed and my skirt riding up to expose both thigh straps.
He stopped in the middle of the floor about ten feet away, as I uncrossed my leg by picking it up with my hands, and letting it fall to the floor. Immediately the knee joint locked in a straight position, and I put my weight on it. Then I lifted the other leg with my hand, freeing the heel from the stool rung, and let it fall to the floor with a thump and a metallic click as its lock engaged. I extended my hand and he crossed to me, taking my hand and introducing himself. I ceremoniously walked stiff-legged a couple of steps to retrieve my crutches, placed my arms in them, and crutched over to the bar. From his reaction, the bobbing of my breasts in the silk blouse was not missed.
I was a sex machine. If he couldn't get it up over me, he was not going to ever get it up. Everything I did was aimed at arousal. We had a drink at my place, and I was careful to ask all kinds of questions about him so he could talk about himself, and I slowly lifted each of my legs into the car as he held the door for me.
Tom didn't see it, but I had one hell of an affect of the parking attendant to who opened the car door for me at the restaurant. His eyes were glued to my legs as I lifted them out of the car one at a time and then stood, leaning heavily on the car door. Tom brought my crutches to me, and I thanked him with my sweetest smile.
I even took as much time as possible going up the three steps into the restaurant, thinking every little bit should help. After we sat down, I crossed my legs (yes, it takes lots of practice) and began stroking his calf with my shoe and brace.
He blushed, and I thought I was having some effect. But it wasn't just the braces. He was finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes off my hard nipples poking through the silk blouse. Even though I have been using braces full-time for over a year, I was arousing myself because I was taking every opportunity to be and act crippled.
During dinner I volunteered to Tom that I had been in a very bad accident while skiing, and that the result of the broken bones and severed nerves was braces on my legs for the rest of my life. I also made reference to the fact that I have more or less normal feeling in my legs, and that I preferred he use the word crippled rather than handicapped.
He was getting more secure and less nervous by the end of dinner. There is a lovely formal garden adjacent to the restaurant, and I suggested we take a walk through the grounds. Tom was concerned that I was overextending myself with such a walk, but I assured him it was all right. By the end of the walk, we were both very excited.
Back at my place, I prepared a yummy dessert of coffee iced cream, toasted coconut and Tia Maria. He watched every step I took in the kitchen, and I did my best to give him a good show. After we finished, and sat on the couch, I purposefully leaned my leg against his so he could feel the steel of my brace on his leg. We kissed long, deep kisses. It was difficult for me to turn to him on the couch, so he offered to help me off with my braces.
Of course I let him take them off me. He hands were like electrodes sending little shocks along my skin as he tenderly removed the braces from my legs, gently lifting them out of the braces. Then he massaged my feet and legs and I was putty.
I asked him to excuse me, that I had to powder my nose, and I guess he expected me to walk from the room without the braces, because he gasped when I slid to the floor and pushed myself through the living room on my hands with my useless legs trailing behind me.
When I returned to the room again using my hands for propulsion, he couldn't take his eyes off my legs. We kissed some more, and I let him run his hands all over my legs, then asked him to put my braces back on me.
After some more heavy petting, I told him he would have to go because, after all, this was only our first date. He was a perfect gentleman, but I could tell the evening had been a success by the bulge in his pants.
I walked him out to his car, and pushed him against the door with a deep kiss. As I kissed him, I unlocked one knee and rubbed my knee pad into his crotch. Yes, mission accomplished. Sheila would be very pleased.
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