ANNIVERSARY

by

D. Glenn Price

Today I am celebrating, or perhaps the better word would be, 'observing' the anniversary of the most significant event in my life other than my birth. The anniversary of the day, ten years ago, on June 15, when I lost both of my legs high above the knee. I was then nineteen.

I am not really planning to do anything special today except maybe pop a bottle of Champagne and toast myself for having survived and prospered. This is not an anniversary I really care to celebrate all that much.

I t happened very quickly, like such accidents usually do. I was out on the Sunrise Highway, heading toward my parent's summer house in East Hampton when I took a curve too fast and dumped my bike. The bike went spinning off in one direction and I, skidding on my belly, went off in another. In spite of my efforts to stop myself, I wound up under the wheels of a delivery truck hauling a full load of bricks and cement, about 40,000 pounds worth. The right rear tires passed over my legs a few inches below my butt, crushing them beyond repair. And the really ironic thing is that my bike received only a few dings and scratches.

I remember trying to get up and wondering why my legs didn't work. I was prevented from any further movement by two passersby who witnessed the accident and rushed over to help. They also prevented me from looking behind me at my legs, or what was left of them. The driver of the truck who ran over me had stopped and radioed to summon an ambulance and within twenty minutes of the accident, I was stabilized and on my way to the hospital.

My parents arrived at the hospital about thirty minutes after I was admitted in critical condition and were met by the attending physician who gave them the bad news. I would be crippled for life and there was nothing that could be done except sign the papers authorizing the amputations. My father signed the authorization; my mother could not, she was in shock and crying hysterically. They waited in the cold harsh light of that hospital waiting room for their son and only child to have his legs removed. I often wondered what they thought about during that long wait. About how their son would never again play rugby, or baseball, or football or go skiing with the new equipment they had given me the previous Christmas. I am sure they wondered how I would take the news of my loss.

Up until the time of the accident, I never had to deal with adversity. I was sheltered by my parent's money which afforded me a classic, moneyed upbringing; private schools, tutors, lessons from top coaches for anything I wanted, first class vacations, whatever. I was athletic, handsome, an accomplished musician on the classical guitar, intelligent with a wicked sense of humor and always the life of any gathering. My mother told me more than once that my presence always lighted up a room and my smile could melt the polar ice cap. Sometimes she exaggerated a little when it came to her son.

I had a beautiful body, lean and muscular, a body that always did whatever I asked of it with grace and style. I had, and still have, thick, dark blond/brown hair that always turns red gold in the summer, expressive green eyes, well molded features that were almost too pretty when I was growing up Now that I am maturing, I am more handsome rather than pretty. Other than the hair on my head, I naturally have very little body hair and what I do have, I shave off.

And now my body ends abruptly about four inches below the hips. When the doctors finished with the amputations, I was left with a four inch left stump and a two inch right stump. Fortunately I had been wearing a jock strap and my "equipment" remained intact and in good working order.

When I awoke from my drugged slumber in the hospital intensive care unit, it was day light. I lay there quietly for a time thinking about what I was feeling, why I felt as if I was floating, why my legs felt as if they had no weight, why I could feel my legs but also had a lot of pain around my upper thighs, why the people who helped me would not let me look at my legs, the tent over my torso and then it hit me. I had lost my legs!! I remember taking several deep breaths, in a total panic. NO, THIS COULD NOT BE HAPPENING TO ME!! Things like that could not happen to me, only to other guys.

Then my parents were in the room with my family priest, their warm greetings masking worry and concern. My Dad told me what had happened. I said, "I know Dad, I figured it out. How high up? Do I still have my knees?".

"No son, you don't. Both of your legs were so severely injured that they had to be taken off." my dad said, choking back tears. He paused to regain his composure and finished," a few inches below the hip. I'm so sorry son, there was nothing we could do, there was nothing anyone could do"

"I want to see, let me see what I look like now." I said in a quiet voice.

Mother and Dad both looked at our priest, Father James who said nothing, only nodding. My Dad pulled the sheet off and lifted me to a half sitting position and I saw my legless body for the first time. I was shocked by the shortness of my stumps and by the fact that the skin that covered them was rather roughly trimmed and then stapled together. It looked so crude. Drainage tubes were sewn into the sides of each stump to carry away the body fluids leaking from the unhealed stumps. They hurt. I winced and lay back in pain and shock unable to say anything. I began to cry, great heaving sobs that came from the depths of my soul. I was totally absorbed in the pain and the unfairness of all of this happening to me. It was just not fair! I kept saying to myself over and over and over. Father James tried to talk to me about 'God's will' "a life made better by adversity' and other such platitudes, but I could not listen.

Because I had few injuries other than to my legs, I recovered rapidly, physically at least. However, my physiological recovery was something else again. I raged at the world. I pouted. I screamed curses at the nurses and doctors, at my parents, at my friends, at my therapist, at anyone who crossed my path. I was uncooperative, uncommunicative, suicidal. And then I discovered that the world didn't give a fuck about my little drama. The world was going to go on, with or without me. And that realization hit me like a two by four up the side of the head. There was suddenly no reason to deny that the accident happened; no reason not to get on with my life. I had wasted about six months with my useless drama.

I was fitted for prosthetic legs, but when they were delivered for the final fitting, I discovered that they were attached to a bucket like devise into which my lower body would fit. I hated them on sight and learned to use them only to please my mom and dad. I still have them, dressed in a pair of new jeans and sneakers sitting on a chair in my bedroom, used only as a "conversation piece.". Those are also the only pair of shoes and long pants that I now own. I never wore the legs after I got home from rehab. I prefer my chair, hand walking in the house or sometimes, my skateboard; much easier to get around.

As my recovery continued, I began to actually like that fact that I am a double leg amputee. That is probably one of the reasons I dislike the artificial legs so much. I can't show off my stumps. After I had recovered and completed my rehabilitation, I moved to a loft in New York's Chelsea neighborhood, the gayest neighborhood in New York and continued my law studies at Columbia I am now a practicing attorney for a large corporate law firm, the token faggot, disabled person on the staff. but am looking to quit to start my own business. Not quite sure what, but it will be gay oriented and it will be located in Chelsea.

I spent this morning (Saturday) in the gym working out. I still have the hard, beautiful body I did at nineteen, well half of it anyway. I enjoy working out. I like the comradery of the gym. Most of the guys who work out at my gym are gay and there is a lot of crusing going on in the showers and sauna. That aspect of gay life just doesn't interest me much. I am not interested in one night stands; I don't go out to the bars or clubs or certainly not to the private sex clubs, back room bars and baths. Part of it is, of course, the fact that I am an amp and thus not your typical gym buffed faggot who seems to be everywhere in Chelsea. I always feel a little bit awkward in a bar, like everyone is looking at me and feeling sorry for me. However most of my avoiding of the bar scene stems from a dislike of a life dedicated to instant sexual gratification.

Don't get me wrong, I am not celibate I have had my share of one night stands and two week flings. I have had two lovers but broke up with both when it became apparent they both were much more interested in my stumps than in me. I don't mind devotees. Lets face it, without them my sex life would be even more boring that it is. And I do like to show off my stumps. I really like being an amp. I still would rather have my legs but there is definitely something sensual about being a high DAK.

My standard drag when I am not working is 501's cut to fit my stumps and a tight white or black tee shirt. I love showing off my hard, muscular torso and arms--and my stumps.

For a while early last year, it appeared that, a serious relationship might develop between me and another amp. Paul was missing his right leg and right arm as the result of a construction accident. He was also one of the hottest men I have ever dated. He was about six feet tall, with wide shoulders a narrow waist and a beautifully muscled left leg. His right was missing at the hip. His arms were well muscled too. He was a below the elbow right arm amp and he worked out with weights to keep the right bicep as muscular as the left. He walked using elbow crutches and used a arm prosthesis with a hook. We were quite an item in the neighborhood, me legless in my chair, Paul on crutches with his right leg and right arm missing..

Paul had a way of looking at you with those big brown eyes through the tumble of his dark hair and then grinning at you in a way that could just melt your heart. We had several dates and I was beginning to think that he just might be the guy. But he never had gotten over his victimhood. He was still mad at the world for fucking him over. He would not let go of his anger. He drank too much and became abusive. I stopped seeing him after two months. And I still get a hard-on when I think about him. Doesn't do me much good however. After we broke up, he moved to San Francisco, so I never see him on the street.

And that is the story of my life as an double leg amputee up until today. Not too exciting huh?

I was just coming out of the gym, still dressed in my workout clothes, a loosely fitting tank top and a pair of nylon running briefs. Most of my upper body was bare, the tank top revealed more than it covered and my left stump was poking out of my shorts. I suppose I was quite a sight for a devotee but I wasn't thinking of sex. I just wanted to get home to shower. I seldom shower at the gym. preferring to shower at home where I have my own private sauna and a steam room. The sauna and steam room at the gym are too cruisey for me.

I was pleasantly tired and not really paying attention to where I was going when I ran into the back of the knees of a guy in front of me. I hit him at just the right height so that the front edge of my chair buckled his legs causing him to sit down abruptly in my lap. It was quite a scene.

"Hey, what the fuck? What the hell is going on?" he said as he disengaged himself from my chair, stood up and looked around at me. Then he saw me sitting there in my chair with my hard, almost naked body and the stumps of my legs barely covered by my shorts.

"Geeze man I am so sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going. You OK?" I said completely embarrassed by my clumsiness.

He grinned at said in a amused voice, "I'm fine. No permanent damage, but if you wanted to met me, it really wasn't necessary to try to kidnap me. A simple hi and hand shake would have done just fine." He extended his hand and said " My name is Alex."

I looked up at him. He was tall and very good looking, in his late 30's or early 40's with thinning dark hair, large, deep blue eyes, a strong jaw line and a moustache. And he kept himself in shape. He was wearing a pair of white jeans, sneakers and a sleeveless tee shirt. His outfit showed off a well muscled chest, a washboard stomach and "baseball" biceps. . Through his thin tee shirt, I could see that his chest was covered with hair.

"Hi I'm Cole. Glad to met you." I replied and then I did something I seldom do. "Want to come up to my place? You look like you could use a beer. I have a loft just around the corner, on 22nd east of Fifth and some really cold beers in the fridge."

"Sure, Why not? Yours is the best offer I have had all day and the beer sounds great."

It was June and a hot, muggy day and a beer sounded good to me too. I noticed a slight limp as he walked beside my chair over the two blocks to my building but I gave it no real thought. As we walked, he told me a little about himself. He was 39, had been married for 15 years to a woman and was just recently divorced. They had one child, a girl, who had died from meningitis at age four. Even after nearly ten years, the memory still haunted him. He was silent for a while after telling me about Julie, his little girl. Then he continued with his story. He had decided to come out which, of course, lead to his divorce. He had been living a lie for 20 years and needed to be true to his nature.

"And being an amputee makes it all the harder to come out. What if no one wants me?" he said in a quiet voice.

"What did you say? You're an amputee?" I asked incredulously. I couldn't believe that I had missed it. I always know when someone is an amp. I can, as the saying goes, spot em a mile away. He did have a slight limp. Then I looked more closely at his legs. The right one was prosthetic. I could now see the outline of the top of the artificial leg through his pants.

"I lost both of my legs when I was sixteen."

"Both?" again I was surprised and a little chagrined that I also had missed that his left leg was artificial. I complimented him on his ability to walk with two prosthesis with only a slight limp.

"Yes, the right about six inches below the hip, the left about four inches below the knee." he explained. " I have had 23 years of practice to prefect my technique and, with the newly designed legs that have come out with lately, walking has become much easier. I thought another amp would notice right away. And that is one of the reasons I accepted your invitation. We have a lot in common. I thought that you could give me some hints on being an amp in the gay world"

"You mean you weren't interested in me? I asked in a rather hurt voice. "Like you only want advice or something? I finished dejectedly.

Alex grinned and replied, "And I think you are one of the hottest men I have ever seen, amp or not.. So calm down.. I'm one of those guys who was a wannabe/devotee and have always been fascinated by guys missing parts of themselves, especially legs. I was a wannabe before I even knew what the word meant. When I lost my legs, I loved it, secretly of course. In fact I was a little dissapointed that the doctors were able to save the left knee. I really want to be a DAK with short stumps like you. My parents would have had me committed if they found out. And my ex wife was a devotee, but unfortunately, if the truth be said, she was just the wrong sex."

"Oh." I said, now even more attracted to his man than I had been before. "So why didn't you leave her sooner if you were gay and all.?"

"Well, I did love her and I think that I really wanted a real family. Also, after a while, the marriage was convenient and it was really scary to leave the familiar and go off into the unknown. But after a while, I just had to come out. It was one of the hardest decisions I ever made. Took two years to finally decide. My wife was really great about it. The divorce was uncontested. She got the car and the house. I got the weekend place upstate and we split everything else fifty/fifty"

"So where are you living now?" I asked.

Alex replied, "Oh I have a little studio on the East side, East 57th Street and Sutton Place, I am sub-leasing it until I find something in a neighborhood I like." "A loft around here would be nice, but I haven't found one I like that I can afford", he continued.

By this time we had arrived at the door to my building. He held the door open for me and we entered the lobby, an ornate one with decorative crown moldings, marble paneling and mosaic floors. The building was built as the headquarters for a publishing house in 1908 and the original builders wanted elegance. All of the floors have high ceilings, nice moldings and a line of Corinthian columns down the middle. My loft is on the 11th floor and has expansive, arched windows looking north over the skyline of Midtown with the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building the focal points of the view. At night, it is spectacular.

I could tell that Alex was impressed. The loft is basically two rooms, a large (30ft by 40ft) living, dining, kitchen, studio, library and a smaller (20ft by 28ft) bedroom, dressing, office, gym. He really liked the gym and asked if he could strip and do a little workout. I naturally said yes and went to get the beers. When I got back with the beers, Alex was sitting wearing only a jock strap and a look of fierce concentration. And his body was really hot. I was especially fascinated by his hard, ripped chest covered with fine, dark hair that flowed down in a two inch wide band to disappear into the waist band of his jock strap. He was bench pressing about 200lbs on the universal gym and I watched fascinated by the way his chest and arm muscles rippled as he moved the heavy bar up and down. His right stump was raised straight up and his left stump was resting on the bench. You could see exactly how his legs had been injured. There was almost a straight line going from the right side of his right stump across at a downward angle to his left stump.

When he noticed me sitting there with the beers in my hand, he stopped and set up.

"Nice machine, I like the modifications so you can work out by yourself.", he said enthusiastically. "I go the New York Health and Racket myself, usually three times a week."

H accepted a beer, took a long pull and then swung around to face me. "Come here." He commanded.

I complied, rolling up to the side of the bench. He reached up behind my head and pulled me forward and kissed me, a deep throat, searching kiss. I was lost in the beauty of that long kiss. When I came up for air, Alex had removed his jock strap and displayed a raging hard-on, eight inches of thick, juicy meat. Pre cum was oozing out of his piss hole. I reached down and took his pole in my hand, pushed my chair back and hopped down onto the floor. I took his shaft in my mouth, moving up and down on it, licking the underside and taking his balls in my mouth one at a time. My own cock was straining to escape from my shorts. I reached down to release it from the confines of the cloth. My cock is no prize winner, about six inches and slender, but I have never gotten any complaints either.

Alex reached down and pulled me off his dick "Stop." he said, "Let's go to the bed where we can be more comfortable." So we both scooted on the floor over to my bed and piled on. This time I got on top and again we kissed for a good long time. Alex massaged my ass and my stumps as we kissed. He explored my ass hole, probing deep with his fingers and getting me ready to take his hard shaft. I desperately wanted him inside me but that was to wait awhile. He spun me around so that my head was at his crotch and we 69'ed, me trying, and failing, to take his huge cock down my throat and him easily taking my smaller cock all the way down to the base of my shaft. I was in cock heaven.

I explored his leg stumps with my hands, tracing the scars with my fingertips and massaging the firm flesh with my hands. I especially liked feeling the end of the thigh bone under the flesh of his right stump. I also love having my stumps massaged and worked over by someone's mouth. Alex moved down a little and began to just that, massaging and chewing on the stumps of my legs. I had to stop what I was doing as the sexual arousal was so intense, I could think about nothing else except the exciting feelings coming from my super sensitive stumps.

He stopped working over my stumps and asked "Where are your rubbers and lubricant?"

"Drawer of the night stand" He reached over and got a rubber and the lube and preceded to put the rubber on and to lube it up. He then proceeded to lube up my asshole. He was gentle but firm, probing and exploring my manhole with his fingers.

"Give it to me, please.", I pleaded. "I really want you in me, now!"

With that he turned me over on my side and moved over himself so that he was behind me with his dick pressing against my asshole. He positioned himself just right and then he pushed into me. I gasped with the sharp pain immediately followed by intense pleasure as his huge meat forced itself deep inside me.

"Ready?" he queered. "Ready." I moaned. "Give it to me hard and long." and Alex began to pound my ass with deep rhythmic strokes, pulling out almost all of the way before plunging in again. I was in heaven. I loved his lovemaking. I moved in rhythm to his strokes, periodically tightening my spincter muscles to further his pleasure. Soon we were both bathed in sweat and our breathing was labored.

"I'm coming baby." I screamed and I did, copiously spewing forth my juices in stream after stream. My maid will be pissed. She had just washed the bedspread and now it was stained, badly stained both with our sweat and my cum. I hadn't thought to turn the bed down or get any towels.

Soon after I came, Alex came also and I felt the hot cum even through the rubber. He screamed and thrust even deeper at each spurt of his man juice into my asshole. When the spasms stopped, he shuddered and relaxed still holding me tight. We lay there in pleasurable, but utter exhaustion for several minutes until our breathing and heart rate slowed to normal. Finally Alex rolled over, his big dick, now flaccid, pulling out of me with a wet plop.

I rolled over onto my back also and said "Well how was it for you? I don't think I have ever been so thoroughly fucked in my life. I could really get used to it."

"And I could really get used to fucking you about ten times a day." Alex said with a big grin.

"I don't know if my ass could take ten times a day, maybe twice. We will have to give the poor thing a rest from time to time. We might wear it out." I replied, also with a big grin.

"So what are you doing for a living now?" I asked. We hadn't talked about his profession.

"I want to start a high-end carpentry and woodworking shop. I want to design and build fine furniture. I noticed that you have some really good pieces of contemporary, hand made furniture." he explained, eyeing my dresser that had been custom made for me by a guy in Vermont. "I need some investors or a bank loan, but I can't qualify for the amount of money I need" he finished with a sigh.

"How much do you need? I asked. "I have access to capital. Trust funds, family money, that sort of thing."

"You got $250,000.00?" Alex asked. "I need that much to do it right."

"Chump change." I replied. "I can write you out a check in two or three days. I would need to make some calls to move some money around." And I did have that much and a lot more, as my Grandmother had died about a year ago and had left me very well provided for. And of course there was the $250,000.00 I was pulling down per year at the law firm. Money was definitely not a problem.

"Are you serious? You would lend me the money?" Alex asked in an excited voice

"Do you have a prospectus? a business plan? I asked.

"Yes, of course, not on me but I could get it in a few minutes. We could talk more about it then" Alex replied. "Wow talk about being kidnapped by the right guy!" Alex exclaimed.

"Later." I said. "I want seconds" dropping down on my belly and burying myself in Alex's crotch. It was several hours before we made it over to Alex's apartment in order to review his business plan.

Two weeks later I had a new lover living with me, a new business and a new business partner. I gave notice at my law firm two weeks after that.

Anyone need a new credenza?

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