Peers

By Wilson Devereau

It was Friday and a soul-warming, brilliant June day, with the temperature in the upper seventies, a joyous cloud-jumbled sky, and a caressing sun blessing all on earth. It promised a glorious weekend.

So I decided not to drive the two miles to work.

That decision eliminated wearing my legs, although this was the day I should be wearing them--it's every other day, so I can keep my stumps in condition. But I sit behind a desk all day and walk on them only to go down the hall or to go to the supply cupboard for another form. Today I could do without. Today my chair and I would fly in the open air.

I started my adult life as a civil engineer, but that career was nipped in the bud, so to speak, and now I own and operate a successful insurance agency, and when I say insurance I mean every kind you can think of and perhaps several you can't think of. My biggest sales load is in auto and house, as you would expect, but it sure doesn't stop there.

So I dressed for the day: light blue shorts--the fact that they showed my bare stumps didn't bother me any--and a light yellow top. And I vaulted into my sports wheelchair and took off from my custom-made house and, pretending I was in a wheelchair race, zipped down the street. Downtown I had to slow down as there were too many people to whom I wanted to wish a good morning.

The morning's business went as beautifully as the day was beautiful and at lunch time I decided to go to a favorite restaurant about a mile away. Done.

It was on the way back, about a block and a half from my office that I saw down the street a wheelchair coming toward me. My first reaction was that someone had put up a giant mirror and that I was watching myself coming at me in the mirror. Then I saw that he wasn't dressed in the same colors, although he was clearly wearing shorts and I could see his bare stumps. I was immediately intrigued. No, fascinated is a better word. I am the only DAK in town, not the only amputee--there are two others, both AK's--and to find another coming at me was a lot to handle. I was really feeling roused by this.

Grinning at him just as he was grinning at me, we headed toward each other on a collision course, and when we met we faced each other with tremendous interest. In fact several townspeople stopped to watch us.

I reached out with my right hand and introduced myself. "Jonathan Springer, Springer Insurance Agency. What can I do for you? Hello, Mrs. Jacoby."

He took my hand in his firm grip and replied, "Marc Krispin, Bellweather Lighting, Indianapolis. And I'm doing what I came here to do."

I should explain that the small city of about 14,000 where I live and work is in Ohio about a hundred miles from Indianapolis.

"You came here to shake my hand?" I inquired with surprise. And then to a passer-by: "Dr. Tweneth! Beautiful day, isn't it?"

"That's exactly what I came here to do!" he said with a broad smile. "I wanted to meet the man I've read so much about. I figured we had a lot in common, starting with two stumps."

His answer startled me, because off-hand I couldn't imagine where he could have read about me. And what did he mean he figured we had a lot in common? He couldn't be referring--no! Impossible! I glanced down at his stumps peeking out from the legs of his khaki shorts and noted they were a bit longer than mine and far better made. A prosthetist would be delighted with those stumps. I wondered if he had had surgery to correct them as I have been considering doing for years now, but never got around to.

"OK," I said, and because I didn't want this guy to get away, I added, "Now that you have my attention, come back to my office and explain yourself!"

"I was beginning to think you'd never invite me," he said.

"Follow me," I replied and took off in the same direction I had been headed when we met. Heads turned as passers-by saw the two of us wheeling down the sidewalk, with me thinking a mile a minute about the man behind me.

He was handsome, well-built and perhaps ten years younger than I. I am 44 and I figured him to be in his mid-thirties. I wondered if he had the same problem with weight that I have--I even have a gym in my office where I work out almost every day maintaining an almost flat stomach and good arms. They take a beating with the chair.

At the office, I introduced him to my secretary who was wide-eyed at the appearance of another DAK in a chair. My secretary is not a young woman, but a young man, Avery Nielsen, an amputee who lost his left leg at the hip and who uses crutches--he's one of the two I mentioned. His mother and dad are friends of mine and the kid lost his leg in a grim accident when he was only 8 years old. I befriended him then--I've been a DAK for 21 years--and helped him pull himself together. In other words I helped raised the kid, saw him through high school, gave him a job when he graduated, and I'm helping send him to college next fall.

In my private office, I got behind my desk--the executive defense position?--and took charge.

"Well, Mr. Trispin--?"

"Krispin, with a K," Marc answered with a smile. "Anyway, it's Marc. Uh, with a C. My family figured I would need something to occupy me for the rest of my life--such as explaining my name. They didn't know that I'd become a double amp and would have enough to fight without screwy spelling. Please call me Marc."

"Delighted, Marc. And call me Jon. If I hadn't used my last name for the agency, no one would know what it is. I'm Jon to everybody. So clear up the mystery. You've read about me. Where, how, when, why, who and what?"

Marc laughed. "About six months ago, a friend of mine who works at a big ad agency in Indy as a newspaper checker--she and two others read several hundreds every day checking for the agency's ads--found an article about a DAK with a champion insurance agency. She forwarded the article because she figured we had something in common. As I said, we have at least two things in common. Maybe three others. Even more. Who knows? There was also a picture of you. I looked at that picture and said to myself `I'm going to meet that guy.' It took six months but here I am."

I remembered the article, but I'd had a lot of local publicity and it had never, as far as I know, gone beyond the city limits. "I remember the article. And I suppose you saw others?"

"No, but she said there had been others she hadn't thought to forward. I lied when I said I had read them all."

"Yes, but you were coming down the street. I thought I was going to smash into a mirror! That can't just be a coincidence."

Marc smiled. "Who said it was a coincidence? I drove into town, located your office, and found the main street and there you were zipping along, obviously headed for the office, or at least in that direction. I parked two blocks down, transferred to my chair in record time, crossed the street and succeeded in waylaying you. The rest will be history."

I heard that "will be" and wondered what he was driving at. Also his implication that we might have three other things in common was gnawing at my curiosity bone which was stirring in its fundament.

"I know that Friday or no Friday you have an afternoon of work ahead of you," he continued, thoroughly in charge of the situation, "and I too have an afternoon of work to do." He brought forth his wallet and extracted his business card. "I have three calls to make this afternoon. I have no idea how long they'll take, but I'll be back here."

"What time?" I asked and then added. "Why don't you have dinner with me? There's a lot I'd like to talk about."

"Delighted," he answered. "There's a lot I'd like to talk about, too. Perhaps more than you would expect. But I'm beginning to suspect that you'll enjoy it. Here's my card. I'm calling on three customers--well, two customers and a potential third."

I took his card. "Bellweather Lighting. You sell light fixtures?"

"Not exactly. I sell lighting. We begin before the structure is built. We design lighting and two of our buildings are in the construction stage and a third I'm going to try to sell the guy on using us for design." He looked at his watch. "I have to go. Where shall me meet? Here? And what time?"

"What time will you be finished?"

"I'll be through about--well some time between 4:30 and 5."

"Come back here. I'll take it from there."

He leaned forward, we shook hands and he found his way out. I heard him tell Avery he was happy to meet him. Then the door opened and closed and within seconds a breathless Avery came sailing in.

"Who is that guy? How did you meet him? Golly Moses! You know what? You look like twins! Where's he from?"

I knew I was going to have to explain everything, so I did. Avery was all ears and question marks. When I finally got him informed to his satisfaction, he went back to work and I did the same. I had a lot of cleaning up to do to put the week's work in order, so time went fast. At five, Avery stuck his head in the door.

"Is it OK to leave? This Marc guy hasn't come back yet. Do you think he left town without stopping by? I hope not. I wanted to see him again. He's pretty cool stuff. Golly! You really look like twins."

"Why do you say that? Because we're both DAK's? Both in wheelchairs?"

"No, I mean, you guys look alike. You both got great builds, you're both good looking, you're both smart. It's weird! Just like you were twins."

At that point the front door opened and Avery whirled around letting my door stay open. I heard them greet each other, Avery's voice spiked with sounds of hero worship. Then he called to me "Mr. Krispin's here! I'm leaving now! Have a good weekend!" And I heard him leave just as Marc wheeled through the door.

"Well, Marc! How was your afternoon? Don't tell me, I can read it. You sold the potential customer and construction is going great guns and as planned on the two projects under way."

"Was that my mind, my physiognomy or my body language you were reading? Maybe all three. Yes, you read correctly. Everything worked well."

"I assume you've been in town before, since you have clients here."

"Wrong assumption. I bribed the salesman to let me take his place today. My job with Bellweather is designing, not calling on customers. Today I had less of a personal problem than I anticipated, thanks to you."

"What do you mean by that?" I was getting more and more curious about this attractive guy.

"Whenever I go where I know I'm going to meet a lot of new people, I expect the worst. You've probably lived here so long nobody notices you're in a chair and don't have any legs. I don't have it that easy, but today two people thought at first I was you. And when they found out I wasn't, they weren't at all put off by my chair and no legs. They're so used to you they don't notice. Each and every person I met asked me if I'd met you and told me without prompting that you were a great guy and that you were one of the best businessmen in town. I began to get jealous. You've got this town in the palm of your hand. Did you know that?"

I had to smile. "Matter of fact, I did know that, Marc. And I'm glad you found out. Now you can't accuse me of bragging should I just happen to let that information slip."

He laughed. "I knew I had to meet you. This in the greatest day in my life!"

He looked at me in a very special way and I confess I felt that look all the way down to my balls. God things were going fast! I had lived such a reclusive life I had forgotten what it was like to be turned on like a light bulb! "So, let's get out of here and get home. I've ordered dinner to be sent in later. Meanwhile we can loosen up with a couple of drinks. You do drink, don't you?"

"You mean there's another way to start dinner?" Marc said with mock seriousness.

I laughed and I kept thinking `God! What a wonderful guy!' "No, there isn't. And if there is another way I don't want to hear about it. There is a problem, though."

Marc tilted his head. "Let's hear it."

"I live two miles from here, but I didn't drive, I wheeled it. About twenty minutes. You drove. So you go back to your car and I'll wheel home and I'll meet you in about twenty minutes. Now--the way to get there. Go down to the next corner--"

"Whoa! You ride with me."

"What are you driving? A lift van?"

"No, I'm driving a two-door coupe with an enormous trunk. Put your chair in the trunk and sit up front with me. Let's go!"

He turned and headed for the office door. I called out, "Hold it!" He stopped and spun around. "I put my chair in your trunk and you drive around and pick me up off the street?"

"Yeah. I see what you mean." He smiled a smile that made me want to eat him head to toe. "Logistics. You get into front seat. I take chair to trunk, fold same, stow same. Put self behind wheel as usual, stow chair behind seat as usual. Acceptable?"

I laughed with enjoyment at his way of being so mock serious and so charming at the same time. He laughed with me.

And that was the plan of action that we executed.

At home, we rolled our chairs up the ramp to the front door. I put a key in a box in the wall beside the door and the door opened automatically.

"Holy catfish!!" Marc said. "By golly I've never seen that before. Is the rest of the house like this? When you want a shower, do great robot arms come out of the wall, remove your clothes, hose you off, suds you, rinse you and then rub you down with towels until you're dried off?"

"Yes," I said earnestly, "and you want to take a pee, a great hand reaches out, unzips you, pulls out your pecker and a recording tells you to let fly."

"And then that same hand," Marc continued, "plays with your pecker until you're hard and then jacks you off. Then another robot picks you up and puts you to bed. What a world we're living in! All our muscles atrophying from lack of exercise except that big hard muscle between our legs." We were both laughing and enjoying our vulgarity as we entered the house. "What happens when you forget your key?" he added.

"You go back and get it. To open the door from the inside, you punch a button. To close and lock the door from the outside you use the key. You can't lock yourself out, unless you lose the key. Inside to close the door, you push this button." I went to the wall near the door and pushed the button and the door closed.

Inside Marc was really impressed. Everything is built for me sitting in a chair, even if, as is the case every other day, I'm standing on two prostheses.

"Not only is the house totally accessible in every nook and cranny, but it is also an exceptionally handsome house. You must have had a decorator," Marc observed.

"Wouldn't dream of it. I picked out the furniture, the draperies, the wall coverings--everything is my own doing, so if you don't like it, go to hell."

"God I love it!" Marc said with genuine awe. "There's a feeling of deep peace here. Is it the choice of colors? That's part of it." He paused and I let him look in silence. "It really is wonderful. I'd love to live in a place like this. It makes me feel different. I don't know--whole--at home."

What I had heard him say made me feel sublime. "You're the first person to see it from the right level. It's designed for viewing and living in from a chair." I was pleased with the success my home was having at that moment. I don't know why, but I felt it was important that Marc like the house. Probably because I wanted his approval. Having received it, I felt elated. And my balls let me know that they felt good about it too.

After a pause, I continued, "You've made me feel like a million dollars, although I have no idea what that would feel like. I'm really glad you like it."

He looked at me long and--was it longingly?--as if he were trying to convey an idea with thought transference. I broke the almost breathless pause. "Before I ask you what you'll have to drink, would you like to wash up?"

"I would love it, but I don't think I could manage a great big hand unzipping me and diddling my dong. Where do I go?"

"See that door? Down that corridor and you can't miss it. What'll you have to drink?"

"An ice-cold martini without olive and without twist."

"How lucky can a guy get? I ain't got no olives, ain't got no twist."

He smiled. I smiled and he started off that way while I started off toward the kitchen.

I was feeling intense about this man. Not only did he turn me on in no uncertain way, but he also had a profound effect on my mind and I was giving in to it--it had been so long since I had met a genuinely interesting person. And my stomach was giving me those adrenalistic signals that mean I'm longing for something, and my balls were telling me what it was. Then suddenly it occurred te me that there was another factor, perhaps the most important of all: he was a DAK like me. There was no need for me to explain to him, no need for him to grow accustomed to my appearance. I was relaxed and free in a wholly new way because I was with a guy who was exactly like me!

I had made our martinis and put them on a tray when he showed up at the kitchen door. After an intake of breath, he commented, "Even the kitchen! Did you design the house, too?"

"Down to the last nail. It was a helluva project. I think designing it was more fun than actually living in it."

"And that bathroom. Your choice: a roll-in shower with special chair for it, or a tub with seat and grab bars and an overhead bar to chin yourself with after you've used it to get in. Is there something you forgot to include?"

I smiled. "Yes. Hot and cold running maid service. Or a combination valet-masseur."

That brought from Marc another of those looks that went to my balls. I suggested we take our drinks and go into the living room.

I put the tray on the coffee table and we both vaulted out of our chairs onto the sofa. It felt great to get something else under my ass. I reached for my drink and he did the same. Raising my glass, I said, "Welcome to my retreat. It's a great pleasure to have you as a guest in the house." We drank.

Suddenly a thought occurred to me. "Good grief! I only just thought of this. Are you returning to Indianapolis tonight? That's quite a long drive."

"No. I thought I'd find a motel and drive back tomorrow. . .or Sunday."

"You mean you have the weekend?"

"Yeah. I don't have to be back until Monday morning."

"And you didn't check into a motel?"

"No. I can find one later."

"I don't think that'll be necessary," I said and felt like I was going to spring a boner, "I have a guest room and bath, both accessible. I'd love to have you stay. Spend the weekend. I suspect we'll find something to talk about. Did you bring a bag?"

"It's in the car."

"Let's get it now," I said and jumped back into the chair and headed for the front door. "Would you like to put your car in the garage?" I called over my shoulder.

He had got back into his chair and was following me. "No, I'll leave it out. It sits out in Indy all the time. I'm like a little kid--can I push the button?"

"Please!" He rolled over to it and pushed it and the door opened. "That is something else," he commented. He went out, unlocked the trunk, pulled his bag out, put it on his lap and was back in a jiffy. I pushed another button to close the door.

"I really appreciate this," he said. "I've thought of several things I want to talk to you about. I should have been making a list. They'll come to me." He put the suitcase down near the door to the corridor. I was back in the sofa and he returned to the sofa.

"One of the things I wanted to talk about is stumps," Marc began. "From what I can see of yours, they are different. But first, let me say this. You are the first double amp I've ever met to talk to on a one-to-one basis with one exception. That is when I was in the hospital. A DAK came to call on me, but he seemed more embarrassed than I was. He was on prostheses and used a cane and stayed about five minutes and left, never to return."

"Did you have lots of problems?" I asked quietly.

"No, Not with the amputations, I didn't," he said which surprised me. "The problems I had were with people. You want to hear my story?"

"If you don't mind," I replied.

"I'll make it short. It started about four years ago. For over seventeen months my doctors and I fought a severe infection in my lower left leg and knee and a mixture of osteomyelitis and complications in my lower right leg and knee. I was on crutches the entire time and in pain the entire time. I begged my doctors to remove my legs but they kept saying they could save them. Meanwhile I suffered pain to the point where pain tablets did nothing for me. I got to the point where I couldn't do anything, I couldn't work, I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. You see, one of the problems was that I was allergic or had bad side effects to the antibiotics. The docs gave up finally and literally put me out of my misery by removing both legs. They agreed to make the perfect stumps for prostheses and I think they did. You can see the ends, would you like to see the rest of them?"

"If you don't mind, yes," I answered, quite moved by his story.

He unbuttoned and unzipped the fly on his shorts, and then stood up on both arms and said, "Pull my pants off, would you please?" I did as requested. He was wearing a bikini type of underwear that was bright turquoise. He filled it exceptionally well.

His stumps were like perfect cylinders of flesh each ending in a perfect hemisphere. "Do you have prostheses and do you wear them much?" I inquired.

"I have and I don't. I sit at a drawing board all day and I hardly need them. When I do wear them I'm slowed down. I can't get up easily--oh well hell! you know what I'm talking about."

I scooted over to him and touched his left stump, producing an involuntary reflex. It also produced a reaction in me. Both stumps were magnificent pieces of constructive surgery. "Marc those are beautiful. I don't blame you for not wanting to hide them in a socket. They certainly make mine look like amateur night, but then my amputations were traumatic, and the doctors who worked on them did the best they could with what was left."

"An accident? No warning?"

"None. I told you I was an engineer and I was involved in a very big project. On my second day there, things did not go as planned--I won't try to describe the horror of it--but anyway I came to in the hospital without any legs."

"I've heard from other amps that the reaction to traumatic amputation is devastating both physically and psychologically. You must have gone through living hell."

"You could call it that, yes. It happened twenty-one years ago. Incidentally, how long ago were you finally put out of your misery, as you so aptly said?"

"It's not been quite two years. And these years have been sheer heaven compared to the pain I went through for a year and a half before that. Do you mind--I'd like to see your stumps, if it's OK."

I unbuttoned and unzipped and raised myself up on my hands and he pulled my shorts off. I was wearing boxer underwear. "Pull my underwear off, too," I said. He did so.

My cock was swollen, a fact he seemed to note but without comment. He reached out and took hold of my right stump and felt it, and that made my cock swell a bit more. He noticed that and pulled his hand back.

"You're sensitive, aren't you? Your stumps seem to have ridges and valleys--they're very uneven. Could you have them rebuilt?"

"I've often thought of it, but it's not that important. Like you, I find the wheelchair faster and easier, specially when trying to stand up from a sitting position. But as I think I told you, I wear my prostheses just about every other day to keep my stumps in order--it gives them exercise--and I wear them on special occasions."

Marc looked at my crotch and said, quite seriously, "You're very well endowed."

I looked at his bulging bikini briefs. "Speak for yourself."

It was at that moment that the doorbell rang.

"Oh shit!" I exploded. "Help me get back into these shorts." We scrambled and finally got my shorts on and I vaulted into the chair and sped to the door. Button pushed, the door opened and the delivery man said, "Here's the dinners you ordered. That'll be twenty-five ninety-five, please." I pulled my wallet from my shorts pocket, gave him two twenties, got change and closed the door after him, the large box on my lap. I headed for the kitchen. "Come on out with me and bring the tray. We'll make us another martini."

The box holding the dinners was quite warm, but I figured that if we dawdled too long over another martini and the dinners got cold, I could heat them up in the microwave.

Martinis made, we trundled back to the sofa, putting the tray on the cocktail table. I was still wearing my shorts but not my underwear, as Marc was.

"Do you do much exercising?" I asked. "Your upper body gives the impression that you lift weights or something."

"Yes. I go to a gym that's connected with a hospital. Mostly patients. People in wheelchairs but no amputees. In fact I don't know any other than the ones I met while getting fitted with prostheses. Do you know any others? Oh, what am I saying? Of course, Avery. I see amps now and then shopping and stuff, but I don't have any amp friends."

"There are only Avery and another who are amputees here. Oh I heard there's a man who lost an arm, but I've never seen him. Otherwise, we're a rare breed. It's quite a treat to meet someone like you. I really am indebted to you for making this trip."

"Well, so far it's not been made in vain."

His remark piqued my curiosity. "So far?"

Marc laughed. "Oh Judas! That remark was rife with implications." He looked at me and the smile faded to a look of--what? pleading for me to understand?

I told myself to take the plunge. "I think I know what's on your mind. You came here hoping you would find a friend. And I've been hoping since we shook hands on the street this noon that you had found what you were looking for."

Marc looked at me for several seconds before he swung himself over to me and put his arms around me and kissed me lightly on the mouth. "I think you're about the most wonderful person I've ever met."

"It's mutual," I said and, my arms around him, we fell back on the sofa in a super clinch which lasted a long time. When we broke the clinch, we had explored each other with our hands and I had sense enough to remark, "We have all weekend to make love. Let's not rush things, but enjoy the anticipation of it to its fullest."

"Thus spake Solon, the wise law-giver, right on, as usual."

Having separated we went back to our martinis and casual conversation which, naturally, got on the subject of prostheses and we had a ball, dishing prosthetists and surgeons while blessing them for being so kind to us.

We made another martini and then I warmed up the dinner and we sat at the dining room table which I had set for us while the dinners were heating. We ate in style and comfort, not talking much. I can't speak for him, and don't know that he may have been thinking, but I loved looking at him and thinking about his lovely body and I couldn't get my mind off those stumps of his. They turned me on and thinking about those stumps thoroughly erected me. I'll confess I was a bit surprised by this and immediately thought of Avery and wondered why I had never been turned on by him.

After dinner we both cleared the table and I stuffed things into the dish washer and got it going. Then we went back to the living room.

"Want an after-dinner drink?"

Marc smiled. "No, thank you much, but I couldn't handle it. My mind is on something else." And he put his hand down over the bulge in his turquoise bikini.

"I've had a hard-on all through dinner just thinking about your stumps," I volunteered. "I really don't want to wait any longer. I'd like to take a shower with you and then hit the sack with you."

"What are we waiting for?" We headed for the bedroom where we stripped in a matter of seconds.

In the bathroom I asked, "Do you want to sit on the bench? It's moveable."

"Where would you sit?"

"In the tub."

"Can we take the bench out? I want to be with you. I want to scrub your back."

"Sure we can take it out." I lifted the bench out and put it to one side. Then I grabbed a bar on the other side of the hub and swung myself in. Marc did the same.

I turned on the hand shower spray and got a good mix of hot water. My cock was swelling in anticipation. I glanced at Marc's cock and was pleased to note that his was very well along and rapidly growing to a handsome size. Then it suddenly occurred to me that Marc had said something about having things in common, our stumps being two of them.

"Marc, do you remember when we were talking in the office and you remarked that we had at least two things in common and then you said that we had three more. What were you referring to?"

Marc grinned and looked into my crotch. I looked into my crotch to see what he may have meant by looking there; and then, of course, the sun came up and illuminated my dense brain. I reached out and took hold of his cock and balls--quite a handful--and grinned back at him. He took hold of my hard dong and balls. And we sat there grinning at each other, hanging on to each other's cocks and balls.

I released him and asked him to turn around, and I scrubbed his back and reached around him and soaped his chest and played with his tits and scrubbed his stomach and reached into his crotch from behind and soaped his cock and balls and then I started on his beautiful stumps.

I took hold of his stumps and made him turn and face me while I lifted each stump in turn and soaped it top and bottom, caressing each with my hands while his cock was swollen to the bursting point. Then I gave the soap to him and turned my back to him.

He scrubbed my back with tenderness and reached around and played with my tits and scrubbed them and my chest and my abdomen and then he took hold of my hard dong which was standing straight out and pushed it against my belly and held it there while he scrubbed my balls with his other hand. His touch was so gentle and so sexy that I kept thinking I was going to blast off at any moment.

He swung me around and gave my stumps the same caressing soaping I had given his and he got me so hot I thought I would explode. I've never felt anything like it before. Twenty-one years later I discover that my stumps are built-in aphrodisiacs--just touch them and I'm ready for love! Talk about erogenous zones! You know, if the general populace knew what I was feeling, they'd rush out and have their legs cut off just to get in on the extraordinary sensation. It's addictive. I didn't want it to stop.

When he stopped, I grabbed him in a tight embrace and we sat there tongue-fucking each other until my cock was hurting with being so very much harder than usual.

I'd had sex several times before I lost my legs, and only once after that. He was not an amputee and apparently didn't like amputees since it was obvious he didn't really want to look at me because I don't look right. He saw me completely nude and uncovered just once and threw a sheet over me. I remember knowing his problem and swearing that I'd never do it again. And I hadn't until now.

But this was something so wonderful it was overwhelming. I was with a man who was like me so we could enjoy everything without having to worry about the other guy's reaction. It was heaven on earth. That's a cliché but I now know what it means.

We decided to stop the showering and get dry and go to bed to continue other matters. After toweling each other off with lots more cock and ball play, we arm crutched into the bedroom and got up on the bed. And again fell into each other's embrace.

My memory of the evening is confused as to sequence, all of it simply adding to the overwhelming joy the evening gave both of us. Probably the greatest single thing we did was to discover that 69 held endless excitation, because we could simultaneously make love to each other's stumps. I started on my left side and he was on his left side, my right stump at his mouth and his right stump at my mouth.

I learned that stump-loving is an art in itself. I caught on very quickly and tongued his stump all over while caressing it with my hand. When he reacted with my tongue at a certain place on his stump, that's where he was most sensitive and I concentrated on that. I kissed that area, sucked it, licked it, and I could tell by the way his cock contracted hard each time that I hit home.

He had also discovered this technique and my cock was trembling and contracting from the stimulus he gave my stump. It felt like I had been taken to the edge of orgasm and left there permanently, just about to explode.

When I thought I couldn't take it any longer, he muttered something about the other side, so I rolled further over on my left side and ended on top of him. Not stopping there I continued to roll to the other side of him so that I was on my right side making love to his left stump and he was on his right side making love to my left stump.

I applied the same technique of gently touching his stump and licking it all over to discover the nerve endings that would do the job. I found the place deep inside his thigh, so I kept my head buried, his balls in my hair over my forehead. I took hold of his cock, felt its gentle curve and felt it contract each time I tongued that spot inside his thigh. He, too, was permanently on the edge of blowing his wad.

He had located the most sensitive area on my left stump and it was directly behind and about one inch above the bottom of my stump. It was far more sensitive than my right stump and my cock was having muscle-contractions which I expected to literally drive me out of my mind.

We finally had to give that up as it was exhausting always to be on the edge of blasting but not doing it. So starting in on each other's balls, we chewed and sucked for a long time, and relaxed a little before we worked up the shafts of each other's cocks and popped the heads of cocks into our mouths. The sudden hot wet mouth we each felt caused us both to shoot almost immediately which was surprising and not what either of us wanted. But it did teach us to take it easy on the stump-loving, because that's what had built us to that final explosion.

When Avery called us twins, he couldn't have known what we were learning about each other. We did have upper bodies which were very evenly matched, and we both were DAK's, but his stumps were longer and better shaped than mine. Our cocks however were the same size. Different but the same size.

I am uncut, but my foreskin does not cover my cockhead when I'm hard so I look cut, and he is cut so they have the same appearance. My cock sticks straight out in front and so does his, but it has a slight upward curve. We didn't measure, but they were the same length.

When we finally got ourselves turned around so we could embrace, I put my arm under his neck and he put his under my neck, and we just looked into each other's eyes until we both dozed off to sleep.

I woke up because my arm was asleep since it was under Marc's neck. I pulled it out, Marc snorted, and I went back to sleep.

I have no idea what time it was when we started all that, but we didn't wake up until after eight that Saturday morning. He woke up first and when I woke up, he was sitting up and looking down at me. When I opened my eyes he leaned down and kissed me lingeringly, then sat up again. We smiled and I sat up and embraced him and he embraced back, but we didn't kiss, just held tightly to each other. I wanted never to let him go. I wanted to stay that way throughout eternity.

"I've got to tell you something," he said and my blood froze fearing the worst. I looked at his face and if what he had to say was bad, it didn't show there.

I swallowed hard and said "OK."

"This is going to be negative, but it has a happy ending. After my legs were amputated, I began to be treated like a nobody. I hadn't changed in any way except that I was no longer in pain and I was no longer on crutches. Oh, people were nice to me when they looked down at me in my wheelchair, and they ignored me nicely. But I was ignored because I was handicapped, a cripple, a nobody. The fact that I worked full time and more effectively than before made no difference. I was never invited anywhere. I was a social outcast. Then I read about you and you were a double amputee just like me, but you weren't a nobody, you were a somebody. So I decided to move heaven and earth, if necessary, to get here to meet you. And yesterday when I went to see those people, they didn't ignore me nicely, they listened to me. They treated me like I was somebody, too."

I took Marc in my arms and held him close to me.

Marc pulled back and looked at me with a smile. "Yesterday afternoon and last night you made me feel like a whole person and a real person. I want you to know this because it's some sort of miracle you've accomplished. I can never thank you enough."

I put my hand on his cheek and he took it and kissed my palm, so I embraced him again. He was shaking slightly. Our cocks were hard, needless to say. So we lay down and petted each other and I fondled his cock and he diddled with mine. We kissed and tongue-fucked each other while we jerked cocks, both of which were wet with drooling and then we reached our goal and we came all over our bellies and hands and it was messy and smelly and felt absolutely great.

We lay there in our comfortable sexy mess. "I would like to try to make you understand what you mean to me, Marc. Twenty-one years ago I faced the end of my life. I had a great career ahead of me, and then one miserable night I came back to consciousness in a hospital and learned that I was no longer a human being, only half an animal.

"I went through therapy and into depression that lasted four years while I lived at home with my parents. I was worthless and nobody gave a cotton-picking goddamn, and that included my parents. I don't know now how I pulled myself out of it, except that I read an ad about learning to sell insurance at home and making money moonlighting. I sent away for the book. When my parents found out what I thought I'd do, they were completely negative. They, too, had abandoned me.

"I rented a little cubicle of an office and started going to work every morning. This went on for three months before anyone came in. But some one did come in and I sold my first policy. I don't think I had any concept of what loneliness was until I experienced those three months.

"Living at home was unbearable. I was fully aware of my sexual orientation and decided that if I was going to do anything about it I would have to live somewhere else. So I moved to this town and lived in a rented room and sold insurance by mail.

"One year later I rented an office. I was still lonely because the move hadn't solved my sex problem. Later I had one fling, as I told you, and it was awful. Then you came along yesterday and changed my entire life. Twenty-one years later I've become a whole human being instead of half an animal. I'll never be the same again. Marc, I know this sounds impossible, but I don't ever want to be without you." We smiled at each other.

"And I think we better hit the shower," I added.

At brunch we got down to brass tacks. "Where do we go from here?" I asked.

I won't try to give you any more than the gist of what we talked about until almost 6:30 that evening, but it had to do with our lives from birth, with our future, with the fact that Marc had an excellent job--even for a nobody--in a city slightly over a hundred miles away, and the fact that I couldn't leave my own business.

We arrived at no final conclusions, but decided to spend all our weekends together. This has been going on now for two months and it looks like we might have a solution with Marc moving to my place and working in Dayton within commuting distance.

Yes, there is life after losing both legs. A good life. Marc and I can testify to that.

<MENU>