Oversexed and Stumped

By Carlton Maddox

I'm a businessman, but today I'm called, somewhat snobbishly, an entrepreneur, meaning I'm the one who takes the risks and takes the profits, if any.

I own my own company, MOXI (my nickname is Mox and I have lots of moxie). I started it ten years ago and it's been quite successful--I now have fifty-two employees, one of whom has been with me from Day One.

We're a kind of service company, supplying much larger corporations with data processing, flow charts, efficiency studies, employee training, even architectural planning.

I'm also called, by people who don't know what else to say about me, a confirmed bachelor. Not only have I never been married, I've never even had sex with a woman. I have, however, had sex with men, but very few. Not because I'm choosy (I am) but because I keep a high profile, as they say. I give the impression of being heavily male, however, since women are always on the make for me, including my beautiful blonde secretary. I'm nice to them but firm. I'm so male that fellow gays who might otherwise be attracted to me shy clear of me.

To help you get oriented: I'm about 45, not quite six feet tall, 160 pounds of solid muscle and fairly good looking in a rough and rugged sort of way. Since my right leg is only about seven inches long, I use a prosthesis to walk.

But back to the man who helped me start this company--the employee who's been mith me since Day One. His name is Richard and he is tall and blonde, smooth-muscled and lithe, and exceptionally handsome. He's married, of course, and a father. The day we opened our doors for business ten years ago his loving wife gave birth to their first child--a boy.

Six months after we started business, I had added six employees and decided I could afford to attend a convention in Chicago. As a sort of bonus for him, I asked Richard if would like to go too. He jumped at the chance and Angela, his wife, said go on and go!

I explained to Richard that because of cost, would he mind sharing a hotel room with me? He grinned and said he would sleep in the park as long as he could go. I assured him he would enjoy the luxury of having his own bed.

We arrived on the eve the convention was to open and checked in to a handsome hotel room with two beds in a swank upper Michigan Avenue part of town.

We had a drink and a great dinner and walked up and down Michigan Avenue for a while before we both decided it was time to get some sleep. In the room, Richard said he wanted to talk to me.

"What's on your mind?" I asked.

"Well. . ." he seemed ill at ease, as if he was about to confess something unpleasant, "I--well, I have an affliction."

"You mean like dandruff?"

"Don't be funny!" he said snappishly. But I wasn't to be put off.

"I was going to add halitosis and BO, but OK I won't be funny. You have an affliction. I assume it's not a disease like clap or syph or chicken pox." I continued obviously annoying him. "So what's your affliction? How can I take it seriously when I don't know what it is?"

"I'm satyriatic," he muttered.

"Is that kin to rheumatic?" I joked, although I knew what he meant.

"No, you dope, I'm afflicted with satyriasis," he was really pissed off. "You obviously don't know what satyriasis is."

"I might. Anyway, you tell me what it is."

"It's hell. It's. . .well. . ." he seemed to be girding his loins for the battle, "it's having testicles that manufacture sperm about ten times faster than anybody else. When I was thirteen I was jacking off anywhere from five to ten times a day."

"Holy smoke!" I interjected.

"What?"

"I just said `holy smoke' when you said you were jacking off five to ten times a day."

"Oh. Well I went through high school with what seemed like a permanent hard-on. Then later when I fell in love with Angela, I knew she wouldn't marry me if she knew about my. . . well, frankly I think of it as a disease. So I told her. You're only the fourth person I've ever told about it--other than doctors. Angela immediately took me to her doctor--a woman doctor--and we sat there and I had to explain for the umpteenth time to an M.D. You see, I'd been going to doctors since I was about fourteen because my dad caught me jacking off and I told him my story and about all those constant wet dreams! My God! It was a nightmare just to go to bed. I'd wrap my penis up in toilet tissue so I wouldn't spray down the sheets two or three times every night. I mean it was hell."

I was feeling very stupid and sorry I'd made jokes. He'd obviously been through a lot with this `affliction' as he termed it. Of course the first person I thought of was Julius Caesar who, history tells us, was always in bed with someone--man or waman, it didn't matter to him. I've always pictured him going through a complete Roman Legion of hard-ons. Of course I immediately got to wondering if Richard had the same man, woman, any-port-in-a-storm tendency.

"OK, Richard. Why are you telling me this?"

"Because we're going to be rooming together and I jack off a lot. I usually do it in the shower, morning and evening, but I also get up maybe twice a night to jack off. You'd notice it and wonder what the hell I was doing. Angela is wonderful. She lives with it and understands it and we have sex only when she wants it which isn't several times a day or even every day. And I love having sex with her. It sure as hell beats beating off! So now you know that I'm not what you'd call normal."

"Normal for you is jacking off several times a day. Normal for me is something else," I answered.

"Yeah? What's normal for you? How many times a day do you jack off?"

"Maybe once. Some days, not even that," I replied honestly. "And don't forget that normal for you is walking on two legs. I'll have to tell you that I already have heard about satyriasis and understand that it's a hell of an affliction because of the relentless demand it makes. I'll tell you frankly, though, you certainly seem to cope with it well. I would never have known. There's one thing I'd like to know, though. Do you restrict yourself to just jacking off during work? Or have you fucked everybody on the staff during coffee-break?"

"Yeah, two, three, four times during the day. I usually do it in the men's room."

"You mean you take some of my female employees into the men's room and do it there--three or four times a day!!??"

"MooxxX! For Pete's sake stop it! NO! I jack off three or four times a day in the men's room. Geeze!!"

"You do it in one of the stalls with the door closed?" I continued.

"Moo-oxx! You don't think I'm going to beat my pud while standing at a urinal right out there in the open, do you?"

"No, but haven't any of the guys noticed that you're in a stall three or four times a day? They must think you have a permanent case of the screamers!"

"Yeah, well. . ." Richard was suddenly kind of embarrassed, "Yeah, one guy did. Well--Morton. You know Morton." Morton was the janiter-clean-up man. "Well, he said to me one day, `You shore do shit a lot. Never saw so much coming and going in my life!'" I exploded with laughter. Richard smiled sheepishly and continued. "I told him it was a problem I'd had for a long time and that I was being treated for it."

"Well," I said, "as long as you're not beating your pud in the big office in front of about thirty people. Although it is a hell of a story. "Moxi Company Supervisor JO's His Way to the Top!"

"Oh knock it off!" he said, laughing. (God he's good-looking!) There are times when just looking at Richard gives me an erection and this was one of them. It gave me the courage to try a different tack. "Next time you need to relieve your hot rocks, let me know. I'll join you. Then you won't feel quite so alone in your affliction."

Richard's jaw dropped. "You gotta be joking! That's ... well I mean ... two guys jacking each other off?"

"Now wait a min-- hold it! I did not say we'd jack each other off. I said I'd join you. It's not at all the same thing." It's just the next best thing. His face seemed to fall. Was it disappointment? "Anyway I was just being funny again."

"Oh." Pause. "Yeah." Richard looked thoughtful. There was a long pause during which I kept my big mouth shut. Bosses are not supposed to seduce employees, no matter how good-looking they are.

"Yeah," Richard said, "now that you mention it, it is sort of lonely. Maybe you didn't mean it, but I'm beginning to think it's not a bad idea. I guess it wouldn't be--well, you know."

"Yeah, I know," I answered quietly, sympathetically and hopefully. "I thought I meant it as a joke, but now that I'm thinking about it, it doesn't seem too bad, to have a little company while doing such a private thing."

That seemed to end the conversation because this was followed by another long silence. Then Richard looked at me and said, "Can I ask you a personal question?"

Here it comes, I said to myself, he's finally going to ask why I never got married. Shall I tell him the truth?

"Shoot! I'll answer it if I can."

"How come you didn't bring crutches with you?"

The question dumbfounded me. Obviously Richard was personally involved in my being an amputee, and even though it was a relief that he hadn't asked what I thought he was going to, I was still suddenly aware of a new dimension in Richard. "I don't need them."

"You mean you hop around after you take your leg off?"

I thought: this curiosity in too childlike for Richard. "No, I use a peg leg."

"A peg leg?" He sounded incredulous.

"Yeah. I take this leg off and put on the peg leg."

"Well. Uh. . .do you. . .uh. . .could I see how it works?" he asked hesitantly.

At this point I began to get faintly suspicious. "Would you like to see me on crutches?"

"Yeah! I mean. . .no that's not the point. I was just curious."

I was truly astonished at this turn of events. "Well, since you're interested, I'll give you the show." I got up and headed for my suitcase and shoulder bag. "First I'll show you why I didn't bring crutches." I put my suitcase up on the bed, opened it and pulled out a pair of stainless steel tubes about the diameter of a shower curtain rod, jointed together at one end. "This is the peg part of my peg leg." Then I took from the shoulder bag, because it was too bulky for the suitcase, a stump socket with a short externally threaded pipe affixed to the end of it. "And this is the rest of it. Now watch carefully."

I unbuckled my belt and pulled my pants down to my knees. Then I pulled my shorts off and sat down on the bed. On my prosthesis a few inches above the knee joint, there is a little round gadget that I unscrewed and you could hear air rush in.

"Did you hear that?" I asked.

"It sounded like compressed air being released."

"Just the opposite. I keep my prosthesis on by suction. I opened the vacuum seal and since nature abhors a vacuum--" I pulled the prosthesis off--"it's as loose as a goose." I extricated it from my trousers and held it up. "Come lift it and feel how light it is."

He looked kind of odd. "I . . ."

"C'mon!" I insisted wondering what had got into him. "C'mon! You were the one who wanted to see how it works."

He got up from his chair sort of doubled over and almost backed toward me. I guessed immediately that he'd had an attack of satyriasis and wondered if it had been brought on my my prosthesis or stump or both. I was beginning to suspect that he was an amp lover, something I would never have expected. I'll confess that I was delighted.

When he got to me, I handed him the leg and pointedly looked at his crotch. I was right. He had a hard-on.

Nodding toward his crotch, I said, "You must be awfully uncomfortable right now."

His face went bright red. "I told you I had this problem."

"You did indeed," I agreed noting that he was staring at my stump. "Now about my peg leg. Watch this."

I put the separate socket on my stump, turned it until I felt the fit, then I screwed on the valve. "See? It's on tight. Here, pull on it." He looked very odd--his mouth was hanging open and he was panting, but he reached down and touched the outside part with his left hand. "No, take it with both hands," I said pointing to the side of socket next to my genitals. He reached down and took hold of it, brushing my cock in doing so. "Now pull on it." He did and it didn't budge. "OK, now watch this." I picked up the folded steel tube, unfolded it and fastened it so that it stayed out straight, then I screwed its threaded end onto the threaded gimmick fastened to the socket and stood up. "My peg leg. Keeps my hands free!"

I stood there holding my shirt up so he could get a good view. Then I walked around demonstrating how easy it was to walk with the steel pylon. As I walked I took off my shirt and undershirt leaving me in the nude. "So now you know what goes on behind the scenes with a person who uses a prosthesis. Since I'm ready, I'm going to go take a shower. Want to join me?"

"No, I don't think. . ."

"Oh come on, Richard. If your satyriasis needs to be taken care of, you won't get so lonely." He looked at my genitals with what might possibly be described as longing.

"No-o-o, you go ahead," he said uncertainly. "I'll shower after you."

"You're very shy, aren't you? I appreciate your telling me all about your problem."

"Shy?" He smiled. "Yeah, I guess. You're the only man I've ever seen naked."

Richard's capacity to surprise was daunting. "What? I can't believe that."

"Honest. When I was in school my doctor wouldn't let me do sports and wrote a letter to the school. He saved me all kinds of embarrassment. Well--you know. So I've never seen anyone naked.

And I appreciate your showing me--" he stopped dead and licked his dry lips nervously "--well, your leg. It's very interesting."

"Any time. Did you see everything you wanted to see?"

"Yeah, almost--yeah I guess so."

Almost? I thought I'd try another shot in the dark. "Shower with me and I'll show you my stump up close. When I take off my peg to wash my stump, you can help me keep my balance."

"Well, if I can help you. . ." I was right. It's the stump that gets to him. With that he started to undress. Deciding not to watch him because he was already suffering enough, I grabbed my toilet kit and went into the bathroom to scrub my teeth. I was just finishing when he came in naked brandishing a handsome hard cock. I pretended not to notice and turned on the shower. Then I climbed in, peg leg and all. It's the way I shower at home.

He peeked in at me and then sort of backed in. I had soap in my hands so I started scrubbing his back. And of course reached around in front and started from his pecs and began working my way down, wondering when he would stop me. He didn't. I scrubbed his hard cock very gently and his balls and then said "Your turn."

I turned around and he turned around and started scrubbing my back. Finished with that he started scrubbing my front from behind as I had done, working his way down. I was hard of course and he washed my cock as I had his, and my balls. Then I said, "Now I'm going to let you scrub my stump."

I turned around and faced him. "Unscrew the valve and take the socket off while I hold on to you." I placed my hands on his shoulders and steadied myself. I felt the release of the suction and raised up on my toes so he could pull the pylon forward and take the socket off. He did this without a mishap. "Just put it on the floor," I said.

When he had done this, I said, "I'll hold my stump up while you kneel down and take a good look." While I held on to him for balance, he fondled my stump and rubbed it gently and got me so excited I thought I would explode. Then he pushed his face forward and licked my stump and kissed it. I, of course, was absolutely astounded, and so pleased with the way things were turning out I could hardly believe my good fortune.

Look. I've had the hots for this guy for several years and always assumed he was stodgily hetero and here he is an amp lover giving what few amps know exists: the extreme pleasure of discovering that a stump can in many cases be an erogenous zone. And for both parties. For me there is no other way to have sex: the stump is the controlling factor, the key.

Richard was moaning, or rather almost keening with pleasure as he licked and licked my stump. Then in a sudden and unexpected move, he turned his head and began licking my balls and the inside of my left thigh. I grabbed my cock with one hand and began massaging it and within seconds I was shooting a heavy load. As soon as I started shooting, he renewed his love attack on my stump. When I started shaking, he stopped, stood up and embraced me ramming his hard cock against my belly and consequently shooting a hefty load.

"I gotta sit down," I muttered, so he lowered me slowly until I was sitting in the tub. Then he soaped me down again and rinsed me while I lay back enjoying his attention. After scrubbing himself again, he turned off the water and pulled the shower curtain back.

He got out of the tub and disassembled my peg leg. Towel in hand he leaned over me in the tub, dried my stump and put the socket on it, adjusting it as best he could, and screwed in the valve. Then he helped me stand up and attached the pylon to the socket. While he was in that vicinity he kissed and patted my cock. I was still in a kind of shock to discover all this about Richard. He was so totally at home with what he was doing, that I wondered how many amputees he'd made love to--until I remembered he said he'd never seen a naked man.

He toweled me down, giving me a kind of standing massage, paying close attention to my crotch.

When he started to dry himself, he stopped and said, "You're the most magnificent looking man I've ever seen or ever known."

I made a note to myself to get crutches and find out what his reaction to those would be.

We didn't talk much after the shower. Words were wasted energy compared to what we were thinking and feeling. When I was about to climb into bed, he quickly came over to me and asked if he could remove the peg. I smiled and lay back and watched as he worked with the simple mechanics of the prosthesis. He treated it with love. Then he paused.

"May I?"

"Whatever you wish," I answered.

He came to the other side of the bed and crawled in. I turned to him and he leaned down and began making love to my stump. I naturally rose to the occasion, as did he. Then I threw my arms around him and kissed him on the mouth. We had another love-making session and I had the pleasure of possessing him as I'd dreamed of for so long--oral sex with him was all and more than I'd hoped for. Then, holding each other we drifted off to sleep.

When I woke the next morning I found myself alone. I looked over at the other bed and saw Richard lying there staring at the ceiling.

"Good morning," I said cheerfully. I felt wonderful. "How many times did you have to jack off last night? I didn't hear you get up, I was really knocked out!"

"Good morning, only twice." Richard said very quietly and without looking at me. Obviously things were not going too well.

"How're you feeling?" I had decided to pursue the matter.

"OK," was his reply.

"Come over and tell me about it."

"I'd rather not."

"OK," I said and pushed back the covers, got out of bed onto my one leg and hopped over to his bed. I hate hopping--it makes my balls and cock bounce up and down and jars my head.

"Don't!" he said before I even got there. When I pulled the covers from the other side back, he repeated, "Don't please. Just leave me alone. I'll be OK."

I got into bed with him. "I don't want you to say anything, I just want you to listen." He turned his head away from me. I was grateful--at least he didn't get out of bed, throw on his clothes and rush out of the room.

"I don't know when you first suspected it, but I'm gay." He made a quick intake of breath. "It was about six years ago we met and ever since I've longed to go to bed with you, longed to make love to you. But for some one with my visible disadvantage, wanting something and getting it are rarely if ever in the same chapter. I'm an amputee. I don't look right and I walk funny. Most people never get past that. But not all amputees are alike. Some of us know that out there somewhere, there are both amputees and non-amputees who are particularly fond of people with missing limbs. A missing limb becomes a turn-on, and the stump of that missing limb becomes an exceptionally powerful sexual attraction. This is true for heteros as well as gays. In fact the two are hard to separate. Men are attracted to women amputees and women are attracted to men amputees. And likewise men to men and I suppose, although I know of no cases, women to women.

"I want you to know that last night was the greatest night in my life." He had not looked at me until I said that. "Having wanted you these past six years and then discovering that you're an amp lover was almost more than I could handle." In fact just talking about it was getting to be more than I could handle. "You made me happier than I have ever been or ever will be. I want you to know that." I started crying and it scared the piss out of me. It's something I never do. Turning away from him I threw back the covers and started to get out of bed but his arm around my lower abdomen stopped me. Pushing me down on my side, he nestled into my back while my tears dripped down to the pillow.

"I have wanted," he said hesitantly, "to go to bed with you from the first moment I met you. Was it only six years ago? The only thing that's made satyriasis bearable is that every time I've jacked off I've kept your face in front of me. Every time. And as to . . . well, your right leg was another very strong reason I wanted you so much. I've . . . fantasized and dreamed of the time when I could touch your stump and . . . make love to it. Last night I felt like I was alive for the first time. Now I almost feel like there's nothing left to live for."

I turned over to face him, and kissed him lightly on the lips. "You beautiful man. Your wife and your son and heir are more than enough to live for. God knows you're certainly something for me to live for."

"I feel so terrible. About Angela and David. I love them and I love you. What do I do now?"

"Think. That's what you do now. You buckle down and think. You're capable of it."

There followed a long silence during which Richard stretched out flat on his back. Then he turned his head and looked at me.

"What a mess! You'd end up going out of business, I wouldn't be able to find a job, Angela and David . . ." he put his hand over his face to blot out that particular future. "God give me the strength. . ."

"God has given you the strength. Just as God gave me the strength to face life on one leg when I was fifteen. Because of our so-called "disabilities" we're stronger than jillions of other people. How many guys do you know who wouldn't envy you your satyriasis? WOW! they'd say, `look at all the women I could fuck in one day!' They wouldn't have the slightest inkling of the tremendous disadvantages, the inconveniences they'd be facing because they don't show. With me it shows. No one would envy me the "joy" of being without the other leg, the inconvenience, the physical disadvantages. You want to know why I don't have crutches with me on this trip? Because I don't want to be seen carrying them. But now I know that if you and I ever go anywhere together again, I'll take them because they would turn you on even more. Right?" I smiled at him.

"Oh God would they ever!" Richard smiled back.

"Look at the things you and I can enjoy privately that no one else could ever understand or would ever need to understand. You see, I don't see any problem. I will continue to live as usual and you will continue as usual, but both our lives are infinitely richer for what's happened between us. C'mon let's get out of here. We've got a convention to go to."

I hopped back to my bed, grabbed my peg and put it on and headed for the bathroom where Richard had already preceeded me.

The convention was great. I learned a great deal and met some neat people. We were only in the hotel room that second night, because after the second day of the convention we flew back home. The subject of satyriasis never came up again. Nor did the subject of stumps or of amp-lovers.

The Moxi Company continued to grow. I added five more employees and Richard, who was a training supervisor, was doing a magnificent job. If all satyriatics are as level-headed, as handsome and as proficient as he is, what a pity there aren't a lot more of the overwhelmingly oversexed. I often thought about the ground-breaking discoveries of that night and the remembrance of his mouth on my stump provided me with much grist for my JO fantasy mill. Every time I saw him at the office I was reminded. I assume he was too, although there was never a word.

Another convention came up that following year, so I repeated my invitation to Richard. Again he jumped at the chance and Angela gave him her blessing.

This time it was Seattle and again we had a fine hotel room with two beds. And the first night we were there, getting ready to retire after an excellent dinner, I asked him how his satyriasis was coming along.

"Oh," he said grinning, "just fine and dandy, just call me randy, and I hope your hand is handy. I'm going to need it."

I laughed. Richard always had the power to surprise me, whether with cornball impromptu verse or with passionate love-making. He got up and headed for the bathroom.

"Hey! You mean you've got a bone on now and you're going to take care of it?" I asked.

"No, I've got to pee and scrub my teeth. The bone'll be along soon enough."

I headed for the closet where, if the hotel had done what I asked, I would find a pair of rented crutches. They were there so I started shedding clothes as fast as I could. Back at the bed, I pulled my pants down and loosened my leg, sat on the bed and pulled my pants off, got out of my shorts and--stripped naked--hopped to the closet and grabbed the crutches. What a strange sensation! I hadn't used crutches for years! Within seconds Richard came out of the bathroom. He didn't see me at first, then he looked over in my direction and froze in his tracks.

"Oh my God!" he muttered under his breath. "Oh my God!"

Slowly he started to undress while he stared at me as I stood there. He pulled his shirt off and dropped it on the floor, peeled off his undershirt. Dropped it. Then I turned and walked on the crutches to my bed and turned around again. His pants were on the floor and his shorts were jutting out with the burden they were only partially concealing. I stood still and let him stare. Shoes, socks and shorts on the floor, he came over slowly to me. He was beautiful to watch: those gorgeous legs and that lovely big curved cock.

"It's what you've been wanting to see, isn't it?" I asked gently.

"Ye-e-e-s," he said faintly as he slowly knelt and, thrusting his arms straight overhead, placed his hands which were very warm, on my stomach. Looking down at my stump, he slowly brought his hands down so that they barely touched my flesh causing me to tingle with excitement. Then he brought his right hand over to his left and the two gave my stump the same kind of slow, barely touching massage. It was incredibly exciting sexually and I reacted accordingly.

I lifted my stump so that it stood straight out in front of me and he continued his massage, barely touching my flesh. Then he put his hand under my stump and leaned in and licked the bottom of it, the sides, the underside which he reached by forcing my stump up against by belly, then again he worked his way over to my balls and onto my stiff cock. Then he pulled my cock over and laid it against my stump and began licking both stump and cock so that the intensity of sexual pleasure made me quiver. I collapsed onto the bed, dropping both crutches to the floor and he followed me there, lying in reverse, his face buried in my stump and balls while he continued to lick and kiss them. I wasn't idle. I had that handsome instrument of his in my mouth and once more was transported to the realm of pure love.

We endured for about two hours until, out of spunk, we just lay there together, our naked bodies touching. A few hours later he woke me and put my hand on his hard and throbbing cock. I took care of it. Another couple of hours and he was back again, hard and throbbing. I took care of it. When we woke with the daylight, I took care of him again. Then as we showered together, I did it again. I began to understand that life with Richard would not be easy.

Needless to say, the convention was a great success. And all the ones we've been to after that have been successful, too.

And that's how Richard and I became partners. Not in business, but in life. He is still happily married and loves his family. At ten years of age Moxi Co. is prospering. Richard and I go to all the conventions we can--about three or four a year. In between times we see each other outside the office only now and then, and when we do, it's never anything special.

But on the convention route, we're something else. I once kept track of how many times in twenty-four hours I helped him, satyriatically speaking. The total was twenty-one. Of course at least a third of that figure was stump-created. As far as I'm concerned, that's a record. Anyone claiming to have beat that record is going to have to prove it to both Richard and me. Personally.

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