All in the Family Ch. 07

-

Nicole sat atop Ian. He tightly held the younger woman's breasts and nibbled at the back of her neck, all the while listing to the excited sounds. He groaned with excitement every few passes of her pussy along his shaft.

"Yeah, Dad," Nicole would encourage from time to time.

"Your ... cock ... my, ah, ... cunt." She struggled to breathe, to get the words out. Her hands rested on his legs as she leaned forward for a brief respite, her hips still moving up and down. "Ah-h," she groaned to match one from him. Now they were in harmony, their muted groans coming together.

"Make Daddy cum, you little tart. I want to cum together."

"Fuck my slit," She begged, slapped her hips down harder. "Fuck your baby girl." She could feel his streams slamming deep inside her. "Cum Daddy-y," she encouraged.

-

Older with graying hair brushed straight back, Mark sat at the bar at Buffalo Pete's. The glass of scotch in front of him was about as full as when Tia had put it there ten minutes ago. Her hook caught his fancy. It had every time he'd been there. It was one of the reasons he went rather than going to a nicer place. He sometimes wondered how it would feel holding parts of him. He knew she had a wedding ring on and wasn't interested in him. He just watched. She had a wonderful ass and he often fantasized about fucking her pussy from the back so he could lean against the fine, firm, rounded hips. He sipped again letting the glass linger in his hand after the brown liquid washed over his lips.

Someone at the far end of the bar moved and he thought he saw Susan. He stared letting his hope build. They crashed quickly as he saw a woman he didn't recognize leaning very close to her. Their lips almost touched as they talked. "The noise," he tried to reassure himself searching for a reason other than they might be lovers. His next sip was larger. He gasped as a mild burn raced chased the sip. He could feel himself responding to the sight of them together. He sipped again.

Tia leaned way over the bar. He could see down her top to her navel and she grinned knowing he was looking. She sat a second glass of scotch beside the half empty one. "On the house." Her hook rested lightly over the back of his hand, the metal tip giving a light scratch. She glanced into his face.

"You never leave with anyone," she quizzed. The hook continued to tease the back of his hand as she glanced at Susan and the other woman. He looked at them too, then sipped a little of the drink. "You know her," she asked.

"Yeah. I kind of work with her."

"And you dig that she's ... missing her leg?"

"Yeah-h ... a lot." he slurred slightly, feeling the minimal start of the liquors effect. He looked into her blue eyes and then into her cleavage. "Great chest," he groaned softly.

The two halves of the hook parted then gripped his index finger. "Thanks. They're taken ... otherwise, you could play with them." She giggled. "You could have any woman in here, you know. I've watched you lately...."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Maybe you excite me." The hook shook his finger then let go. "I've seen you watch some of the women missing a leg. I know that's what you prefer ... not a missing arm. Maybe I should do my leg." She giggled. He grinned quietly then sipped his drink. She looked around and no one seemed to need another drink. She pointed at her nametag. "I'm Tia, like an idiot couldn't see that."

He laughed then introduced himself.

"You're a good dude, Mark. I know a few single women ... the kind you'd go crazy with." She chuckled. "I'll see what I can do." She paused and watched him. "Something that won't fuck up your job."

"That'd be good. I do have to work with her." He tilted his head towards Susan.

"Do you have a card ... a phone number?"

He pushed a business card through some condensation on the bar. "Can I have another look?" He smiled and leaned forward.

"Mark, ole buddy." She chuckled and leaned forward again, her arms pressing against her chest increasing the view. "They might get used your eyes on them." She chuckled again.

"Would that be so bad?"

She shook her head. His voice grew quiet. She pushed the card between the halves of the hook and waved it a few times. "I'll find you a stump that wants to be loved." She walked towards a voice demanding another drink.

Mark watched her ass sway with each step. He'd at least have something to think about while his hand was busy in his own pants. He finished the first glass and sipped from the second. Half an hour later, Susan and her lady friend were no long at the bar. He walked out into the warm evening - alone.

-

Marcus was tall, stocky like an athlete, and wore the same suit he had worn to work as he sat beside Debbie on the couch at Ian and Nicole's house. They're first meeting only half an hour old. He had one ankle resting over his knee and an arm casually behind Debbie's neck. Her long stump peeked from the skirt and her crutches lay on the floor beside the couch. They each sipped from the refilled drinks.

"Great leg," Marcus said, staring at Nicole's long bare leg stretched out in front of her. "Love ladies with one leg."

"Why thank you," she pleasantly said, wiggling her foot slightly and watching her toes flex.

"Loved her Mom," Ian started. "But...." He laughed nervously for a moment.

"Yeah ... tell me. Her Mom wasn't missing a leg and didn't know about my, ah, interest. She ran off with her boss. Debbie had just started college and lived at home. Talk about luck." He laughed and patted Debbie's thigh.

"She'd been gone a while when I discovered the pictures on his laptop," Debbie said. "Amputee women, mostly with one leg ... and younger ... nothing illegal mind you."

"Her Mom would have cut my nuts off if she knew."

Debbie continued. "We'd slept together a few times since she'd left." She pecked at his cheek a few times. Nicole nodded and Ian chuckled. "So one night, after some particularly great sex, I asked him if he'd like me with one leg."

"Had you ever wanted to be that way?" Ian asked.

"No, not really. I'd looked at Dad's picture collection. I'd even found the websites he'd been looking at. I thought about it some afterwards. Guess I began to think it wouldn't be so bad ... prosthetics were supposed to be fantastic and all...."

"She waited about six months," Marcus said.

"How's it?" Nicole asked.

"Sex with Dad, or having one leg?" Debbie teased.

-

The hospital gown did not cover either the prior arm stump, nor the new bandaged one. Tracey snaked up the hem and peaked at the Shelly's bandaged thigh ending just above the knee. She sighed and flipped the hem back in place.

"Frigin' bandages," Shelly moaned and moved the older arm stump a little.

"It won't be long." Tracey scooped a little strawberry Jell-o and held the spoon to Shelly's lips. "Thanks for making it so I 'have' to take care of you."

She held her arm stumps out to the sides, waved them in small circles, then lowered them. "Guess I could get a hook."

"What, and take care of yourself." Tracey groaned. "Babe, that's what I'm here for." She stroked her partner's thigh. "There's nothing I mind doing for you."

"Even wiping my ass?"

"Anything."

-

"Mmm," Selma hummed in her office at work, her hand roaming under her skirt over the hip where her right leg recently had ended in a short mound of a stump, but now was completely gone. No bandage covered the long scar where Martin had removed the stitches the night before. "Damn nice," she whispered, writing some notes on a page of a report.

"How are you feeling?" a female co-worker asked from the door opening.

"Great." She twisted her wheelchair around so it faced the door. "The stitches are out. It's still tender. Not the first time, so I know it won't be much longer."

The woman shrugged her shoulder missing the entire arm. "You're hubby does a fine job." She paused for a long moment. "I can't believe how many people around town are missing something. I don't go to the mall without seeing more than a few these days."

A tall man with well tanned skin, crutched up behind the woman, and put a hand on the armless shoulder. "Yeah, great isn't it? Soon, the whole town will be missing something."

"Do you really think so? Selma asked. "I almost hope not. I kind of enjoy being 'different'."