Consequences of an Affair Pt. 02

Ling made the transfer from her office wheelchair to her powered travel chair, then powered out to her van, where she made another transfer into the driver's seat. Luckily for me, the power chair came apart with a couple of pins, into two heavy pieces. Under her direction, I stowed both pieces in her van, exactly where and how she said.

I could see that, if she were alone, she could have reached each piece by herself, assemble it and make the transfer from van to chair. She had to do all these transfers because she couldn't walk on her surgically-shortened legs. She kept falling over, even using 2 short canes and bent way forward.

Ling drove me to her house, up on Silvergate Drive, in Point Loma. I'd seen cars adapted to legless folks before, using all hand controls, and was glad to see the automatic transmission, power brakes and power steering. Her van had two big batteries, one a deep-discharge marine kind. All that helped. On the side of the van, there was a large door, with a power lift, which we hadn't used, this time.

Ling's house was, on the outside, a typical suburban single-story rancher. Nothing special on the outside, except for the ramps in front and in the back. She powered open the garage door and pulled the van inside. As I got out of the passenger seat and walked around her van to take out the power chair, she giggled and said, "No, don't. I have an in-home chair I use. Pick me up and carry me inside. I'll tell you how to do it. You'll like it. So will I."

She giggled again.

Ling instructed, "OK, Mike, pick me up with your strongest hand. No not that way, spread your fingers wide and put your hand right under my butt, so your palm is under my pubic bone. OK, now put your middle finger right on my butt-hole and push in. Little bit. Great, like that. That feels really good in my ass. Now work your thumb inside my pussy hole. Squeeze both together, like you'd be picking up something with those two fingers. Yeh, that's it. Wiggle-wiggle. Oh, fuck, that feels good. Now support my middle back with your other hand. Ahhhh, that feels so nice, you'd better get me into the house before I come and squirt all over your hand."

"Upses-Daisy!"

Somehow, I made it to Ling's back door, squeezing her two 'holes' as I was walking up the back-door ramp, which she opened with the pushbutton-code on her key ring.

Well, we almost made it. She came and squirted all over my hand and arm as I stepped through the door's threshold. Ling screamed in a muffled voice, having stuffed the hem of her dress in her mouth. Naturally, it was the front of her dress, so she was all but nude as I squished through the kitchen, then put her on the low couch in her living room.

Following more directions, I stripped her nude, got out of my own clothes and buried my raging hard cock so deep in her cunt that I thought it might come out her back. No licking, no kissing, no anything else but penetrating her sloppy-wet sex. I thrust and pushed, in-and-out, while she screamed out loud, thrashing around, her shortened legs banging against my sides. Her boobs bounced round on her chest, as she slid down to an on-her back position.

I banged her even harder, shouting that she was an 'Asian slut," and to "show me how a slut squirts." She did. Loudly. Obscenely. With filthy words of encouragement. "Fuck me, fuck me, come on guy, you can't hurt this little Asian slut with your big cock, fuck me. Harder. Deeper. Yeah, like that, just like that. Squeeze my tits, twist my nips. All the way up inside. In my ass, anal, that's right. I'm your slut. Fuck Me!"

I came inside her. She screamed, "Yes, yes, yes, yes. Fill me up. I can't get pregnant. We're both clean. Fuck me with your bare cock all the time. Slut! Fuck Janice, too, when she's off her period, 'cause I wanna watch."

She screamed some more, humping up at me, as my cock softened, but wouldn't stop grabbing at me or working her hips until I got completely soft and fell out. Not having half her legs, ankles or feet, she couldn't lock her legs around me, but she battered my kidneys with her thighs. I thought I might have bruises tomorrow on my flanks.

We both gasped for enough air to survive for a minute or so. Ling quietly said, "Damn, man, your wife was a fool to let you and that cock go. What was she thinking?"

I said, a bit sadly, "I don't believe she was 'thinking' at all. It was completely emotion and impulse. In the last 3 years, she listened to her divorced friends and ate up courses on Women's Studies at the University. She was always impulsive, but usually had it under control, but not anymore. The next impulse fed off the previous one. Just rationalized, justified, and excused, as she first lied to me, then lied to herself. She came to believe her own lies. Eventually, she lied about the lies she lied about."

"She said that I was too too predictable, too loving, too 'vanilla.' She said she wanted 'rough' sex, and that she needed 'a little excitement, a little danger' in her life. Her bad-boy lover, Jorje Martinez, was providing that. So she flew off to Mexico to join him at his drug-distributing rancho, as his American slut-mistress."

"She thought that she'd be back in a year or so, 'having gotten it out of her system' and that, when she got back—since she 'spiced-up' our sex life—we could get on with our married life and just forget all this ever happened."

"Of course, I knew better. Over the next months, she'd get the 'itch' again, and it would quickly become a steady stream of men in and out of the house. In and out of her lying cunt, too. No thanks."

"So I divorced her, filing as soon as she flew away. I gave her a lot of money and paid off her credit cards. We have no kids."

Ling said, "What now? You get the house sold. You've turned off your phone, so you won't get begging calls from your ex-wife. You gave her a lot of extra money. So what about you? Where do you go from here?"

I grinned, kinda exhausted, because I'd just come twice. I said, "Ling, it looks like I'm staying here. I'd like that, very much. But I can't fuck or make love all the time. For instance, I need you to follow me out to La Mesa, to trade in my old car and get a new one, maybe a Jeep with 4-wheel drive."

Ling asked, "I can understand why you're selling the house, because of all the bedroom stuff. Why the car, though?"

I twisted my face in recent memory, saying, "Because Connie had sex in the car with Jorje. It has sperm-stains on the side and back seats and it stinks of spilled sex-juice and tequila. I'll get it washed, vacuumed, cleaned and detailed first, but I gotta get rid of it, soonest."

"What to do next? I haven't the faintest idea right now. I'm not hurting for money. Why don't we explore some options while we eat, over the dinner I want to take you to, as my date, tonight? That is, after you take a bath or shower, get cleaned up and sleep a little."

"You'd probably better get dressed in something, too, because you're totally naked and oozing cum down your thigh."

Ling preened her naked boobs a moment, then realized what I just said.

Her almond-shaped eyes got big as she wondered, "You really wanna take a legless woman in a wheelchair out on a date? Tonight? In public? Mike, you are the strangest dude I've come across in a dozen years. I knew you were something else, when you walked into my office a month ago, to ask me to sell the house you were living in, with your wife still there, in that house."

"You remember what you did, then. It was cool and foggy, that day, and I was a little chilled. I shivered, just once. Before I could call Janice to get my jacket from the closet, you ran out to your car and got two soft wool blankets, which you put over my thighs and around my shoulders."

I chuckled, as I remembered, "Well, OK, but I also remembered that you leaned forward, so that the blanket could drop down your back, and the front of your silk Chinese dress fell damn-near off. You weren't wearing any bra and I could see both your boobs and, I, uh ..."

She giggled again, and said, "Five seconds to flip off all three of the 'frogs' that held my top on. I really liked doing that. But then you looked for the office chair that had the lowest seat and moved it around to my desk, so that your head wasn't towering over me. That was really polite."

I kind of said, "Uh, well, uh ... oh shit, busted! That way, I could look up under your dress hemline and look at your thighs, there in the shadow, under your dress and the white wool throw I'd put over your lap."

Ling laughed out loud, saying, "Mike, did you ever wonder just how it was that the white wool throw you put over my leg-ends suddenly didn't cover my leg-ends or even up about half-way up my thighs?"

I covered my hands over my eyes, as I said, "Oh, damn, busted again."

She giggled, but then said, more seriously, "But even with all those hints—and I know that you recognized that you could have had me that morning—you were still faithful to your cheating slut-wife, right up to our little cock-suck, a couple of hours ago."

"Thank God, she's gone, because I was just about to scream with lust and desire."

We had a few moments of silence, while I looked at my new lover. I got myself off her low couch (low, because of her having half-length legs) and then knelt in front of her. I asked, "Ling, please pose for me. Move your legs apart, as far as you can without straining. Push your boobs out some. Let me see you, nude and leaking stuff out of your woman parts. I really like what I've seen and I want to see more. Pose for me. Pose like a a woman who loves to have sex. Forgive me, Ling, but pose like a slut. Please?"

She laughed, as she thrust her golden-tan boobs out, reaching up to pull and tug at her nipples. She twisted her body on the couch and spread out her short leg parts, opening her body to my gaze.

With more laughing, she said, "You're afraid you're insulting me. Well, you're not. Not after what you did in my office, then carrying me into the house and then pounding me into sexual jelly on my couch, in my own home, right where I wanted you for the last month. You want me to look like a well-fucked woman, oozing our sex-juices out of my pussy."

"OK, guy, I'm your slut. I like saying that. I like being that. I like to hear you say that. Most of all, I like—no, I LOVE—doing slutty things with you inside of me. Any hole. The only time I won't sex you is when I'm with a client, buying or selling a house. You please me. You can tell, especially when I say, right out loud, to your face, that I'm your slut."

She finished, "You've seen enough for a few hours, so take me to dinner with you. Take me again when we get back. You're ordered to help me get dressed. Hands on my just-bathed, slutty body would be greatly appreciated."

"I gotta warn you, I don't eat much, because I've got a lot less body to keep up with and I have to sit a lot. Otherwise, I'll get way too fat. Back after I had my car accident, I had a dietician and we agreed on an eating plan, to suit my new body needs. So it's gonna be quality over quantity. One little lobster tail instead of two big ones. Same way with drinks and wine. That kind of thing."

"Oh, yeah," she added, "I get bombed really easily with beer, wine or liquor, and then I get horny. Ya wanna fuck a drunk, legless, horny woman?"

Dumb question.

Showering with Ling only took 4 times as long as I would take, alone. Why? Because she was not quite 4' tall, so I had to reach way down to insure I got all the semen out of her body and wash her tits, 5 or 6 times. She probably had the cleanest boobs in town. Also, because my cock, even though it was soft, was right there in her face and so it had to be sucked, fondled, etc.

Dressing was accomplished with application of a white raw silk blouse, French cut (1st button 'way down there, 2nd button even lower, boobs nearly exposed, nipples hard) and a leather skirt, which brushed the floor, split up the front and back. There was no point in doing stockings, as she had no garter belt to put on and no socks or hose would fit over her leg-ends (which I refused to call 'stumps').

Ling refused to wear bra or panties. Something about 'easy access,' she giggled to me.

Over dinner, as she sat in her power chair, I casually asked her, "You're I.H.Ling. What do your first initials stand for?"

She answered, "If you laugh, I'm gonna cut you off from sex for, oh, hours and hours. My full name is Ima Ho Ling. I was adopted, with the name of Ho Ling. My Dad and Mom thought it was 'cute' to stick me with the English word 'Ima". Just like the girl in Galveston, TX, whose family name was 'Lear,' so they named her 'Crystal Shanda.' "

"All 4' 10" of me, 103 lbs. soaking wet, I fought my way through elementary-, middle-, high-school and college, with literally everybody laughing when I had to say that I was 'Ling, Ima Ho.'"

"When my folks spit up and divorced, I was 19. I ran away and established myself as I. H. Ling. The car accident took my lower legs. Insurance and disability paid for a lot. I did an unofficial mentorship in selling real estate, in Redlands, LA County. Moving to San Diego, I spent some more of that money for a down-payment on this foreclosed house and my education. Then I set up shop as an independent realtor, here in Point Loma. I became a damn good realtor, but I couldn't date much, because of the weekend hours I have to work, my handicap and my damn name. So there!"

She shed only a few tears, destroying no make-up, because she didn't wear any.

She added, brightly, "Then you showed up at my office and you didn't care about my legs, other than to drool over my tits and thighs and where they led, which was up to my pussy. But you proved, over the month, that you were ethical, still married to a serially-cheating spouse."

"Now you're free and Ima Ho Ling wants you ... not just your cock but all of you."

I said, very carefully, "You're not a Ho. I'd really like you to be a slut ... my slut. My cock wants you and so do I. But you're not a Ho. My full name is Mykail Tsarovitch McCorkindale. Mom was Russian and Dad was Scots. I fought my way through schools and college too, while getting the the nicknames of Scotty and Corky. 'Put a cork in it' or 'Scotty, beam me up' were the least of the things I had to put up with, according to what I thought were my friends."

"After I met and married Connie, I insisted on "Mike."

She said, "So you're Mike and I'm Ling, except when you're calling me 'slut,' which I hope you do a lot. Every time you say 'slut,' I get a tingle right in my pussy."

I gave her an evil leer.

She giggled again, saying,"We both have some 'history,' which we won't let interfere with us, right! Me with being called a Ho and you with that awful name and the public memories of your cheating slut wife. I'm handicapped and you don't care. You're huge, sexy, caring and I think a lot about that."

Dinner over, we left the restaurant and walked along the harbor path. Well, I walked and she powered along, with a faint whine from her electric drive. When we came to a bench, set along the path, Ling had me stop. She secured the power chair and had me lift her up to sit on my lap, facing me, her thighs on either side of my hips.

Right after she kissed me with lots of tongue, she said, "There aren't very many good things about being a double amputee, but this is one of the few. Reach down and pull down your zipper. Yeah, like that. Now get that big cock out, the one you've been trying to adjust for the last 10 minutes. Oh, yeah, just like that."

"Now guess what: your little Asian girlfriend, sitting on your lap, kissing you, doesn't have any panties on and so it's gonna go ... ungh, ahhh, oh, just like that, deep, hard, all the way in ... Oh God, it's in me now. I like it there. Now look down. You can't see anything, because my thighs end just at the hemline of my skirt, which is split right up the middle of the front and back."

"So, big guy, fuck me! Right out here in public. Remember what I said about 'easy access'. Your big cock is in my wet cunt. We don't need lube, I'm that wet. I'm your slut! I love to tell you that. I love to let you know how much I desire you and what you do to me. That's what sluts do. What a rush! Watch me stuff a handkerchief in my mouth, so I don't make a lot of noise. Fuck me! Let me do most of the up-and-down. That's it, work it, work it! Right out here. My arms around you. Kiss me deep. That's right, like that (gasp). Fuck your little Asian slut, while you watch the bay and I watch you getting off inside me. Fuck me!"

Ling twisted and bounced around, but never very much, so that my throbbing shaft inside her, covered by the leather skirt, never fell out of her sopping-wet cunt. I held her, and between kisses, whispered that she was 'my slut.' Her silk blouse lost one of its two buttons and her light-tanned braless boobs fell out into my questing hand. The nipples were so hard and stiff, they could have punched holes in sheet metal. She gasped and groaned, quietly. Her cunt muscles were massaging my cock from the inside.

I couldn't last and came inside my new partner, groaning and pretending I had a coughing fit, filling her cunt and womb with my liquid lust and love. In a trice, as my softened cock fell out, she reached under her skirt and inserted a tampon, ready and waiting, to absorb the excess flow of semen.

Somehow, we made it back to her home, where I carried her inside again, my fingers liberally coated with excess jism this time, and we both stripped, fell into bed and were drifting off into sleep when Ling said, "Betcha you never did that with Connie, back in the day."

I never did and Ling knew it.

END OF PART 2