Folding Newspapers

"Maybe you should let her know."

"Why, and have her hate me, or worse? Geez. That'd be the worst thing I could say. Hey, Mother, I wish you had one leg and I want to marry you. I'd never hear the end of that."

"How do you know she doesn't want it for herself, and is afraid to tell anyone?"

"I don't, of course. How many women actually want to be an amputee? I doubt many."

"I guess you are right about that. What if she secretly wishes...that you were missing a leg?"

"There's no way."

"What, that she wishes that, or for you to lose a leg?"

"Either. I've watched you enough to know my life wouldn't change that much if it happened. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad."

-oOOo-

It was dark as usual when I drove to the grocery store to fold newspapers. Mother had been busy when I got home from school yesterday so that I never had a chance to spend time with her. Probably just as well because I had a million inappropriate questions for her.

I was the first to arrive. There were piles of newspapers waiting for each of us, so I grabbed the bundles with my name on each. About halfway though the first bundle, Connie walked from her car and started moving hers.

"Hey, Connie," I said.

"Hey, Bruce. What's up?"

"What was that crap with Harold the other morning? You know, about his mother having one leg. Did she really put it under a train?"

"Yeah. Last year...it was in the newspaper."

"Why?"

"The article claimed she had some made up disease called BIID. Some shit about how it was like being trans, only you believed you had a limb that shouldn't be there instead of having the wrong gender. Isn't that a load of horse shit?"

"Wow. You think that really happens?"

"Got me. You should ask his mother or ask Google. Google knows everything." She laughed. "And the part about them fuckin', I just made that up."

"That was my next question. Do moms and sons have sex?"

"Hell, yeah-h. It's called incest. Happens all the time."

"Did you and your father do it?"

"I'd have cut his balls off if he tried that with me. Maybe I'd have let Mom do me." She laughed. "I don't mess with guys, you know."

"Right, lesbian."

"Got it." She continued to fold, and so did I. "You going to check Vera out?"

"Harold's mother, why?"

"You seem interested. You ever know a chick missing a leg? I did. It was nice, but she took up with another broad."

"What was so nice about it?"

"Something about not having anything in the way on one side...so much better access to her girl-parts."

"I can see how that'd be."

She laughed. "Bruce, have you ever seen any real girl-parts, or are you just remembering the last Playboy you looked at?"

"Sure, Connie...I've seen plenty girl-parts."

The conversation ended far too quickly as more people arrived to fold newspapers. I kind of knew about where Harold lived. I needed to meet the woman.

I finished loading my folded newspapers into my car and started to get in. I looked back at Connie, then Harold. I was happy she had not said anything to him or out loud to everyone about our conversation.

-oOOo-

It was Friday, and Glenda had plans, so I did not see her after class. I did drive by Harold Wilson's house in hopes of seeing his mother, Vera. His car was gone, but three women were out front. Two had all their limbs, and one was missing a leg. All were somewhat attractive, not pretty by a long-shot. Vera wore short-shorts, the pants leg so short and still none of the stump showed. Her belly spilled over the waistband a bit. I guess the rumor was true about her being an amputee. There was no way to stop, or even slow down. My only look was too quick, and I could not even drive around the block for a second helping. Did not matter. The image was seared into my mind, every detail. Maybe she was not every man's fantasy, but she was now mine.

Was Harold really sleeping with her? He was my age. How would anyone know about that? What were the three talking about? How did they feel about the reason for the amputation?

I reached into my pants and made a few strokes. Was it the idea of her wanting to be an amputee, or just that she was one? Something excited me, first Glenda Drake, now Vera Wilson, oh, and the instructor with one arm. So many amputees, all of a sudden. Wow.

-oOOo-

I was sitting at my desk getting a head start on my homework, but failing to be the least bit productive, when Mother knocked on the door jam.

"What'cha doing?" she cooed.

Her blouse was mostly unbuttoned, her short pants showing off her long legs, her feet bare.

"Thinking about you, about Father playing golf tomorrow." I chuckled.

"I was thinking about that." She sat on the edge of the bed, crossed her legs at the knee. "I'm not sure it's such a great idea."

I could see her breasts trying to escape the blouse. Why would she dress like that if she did not want me? I sat beside her, our hips touching, our lips near. She sighed. She was reconsidering. I could have said something, but I kissed her instead. I wanted whatever I could have. A kiss was better than nothing.

Her tongue slipped between my lips, explored casually, in no hurry. Our heads moved about looking for different positions, different sensations. Her hand held the back of my head. She didn't want to stop. I let her have control.

She rested her head against mine, played with my tee shirt, ran her hand underneath, rubbed my chest. She breathed deeply several times then pulled it over my head.

"I'm weak. Stop me." Her voice was soft, quiet.

I cupped a bare breast, held it a moment, then rubbed my palm over it. She did not push it away, or try to stop me. Instead, she moaned.

"I, ah...this is so wrong." She sucked my mouth, her tongue ravaging my mouth. "I need you as much as you want me."

We had longer than the other day, and she took her time showing the ways of her body. Thanks to Glenda, I understood it all. We enjoyed forbidden pleasures. Despite our relationship, I loved her in all the ways I loved Glenda.

-oOOo-

Two hours later she and I shared a shower. It was my first with a woman, and I hoped not the last. We took turns washing the other - everywhere. I remained too excited. She pushed me inside, and we had sex under the falling waters. We washed each other again.

It would be half an hour before Father returned from work. We dried each other, enjoyed glistening flesh, dewdrops, flavors of natural juices.

"Have you ever known an amputee?" I said, hanging the towel up on the towel hanger.

She rolled some deodorant under her arms. "That's an odd question. What prompted that?"

We walked into her bedroom, and she started to dress again in different clothes.

"Harold, one of the paper guys, has a mother with one leg. I was just curious."

She buttoned the blouse up to the top button. There was no use giving Father any ideas. We went to my bedroom so I could dress.

"No, not really."

"Okay. What would that be like?"

"I guess amputees get used to walking with crutches, learn new ways to do things. Some have pain, I guess. Have you seen her?"

"After I heard about her, I drove by where he lives...and she was out in the yard talking with two women. She really was missing a leg. How would you feel if you needed to have a leg amputated?"

"How would you feel if I did?"

"Not fair. I asked first." I laughed.

"If it was needed, what choice would I have?"

"I told you about the teacher with one arm, and now Harold's mother...well, ah, I've never seen so many amputees in such a short time." I fastened my jeans, zipped them up. "You'd still be beautiful." I pulled my tee shirt on. "How would dad deal with it?"

"That's a great question. I don't think very well based on a few times we've seen an amputee at the mall. Once I asked and he told me he would try to accept it. The second time wasn't much different. I get the impression that he might leave me. That's common when the amputee is the wife. Women seem to stay with the guy when he loses a leg. Odd." She sat on the bed, looked at me, then her feet. "You said that I'd still be pretty."

"Sure."

"What about Harold's mother, was she pretty?"

"Not really, but without the leg there was something exciting about her. I don't know what that was about." I rubbed my crotch. "She had a belly that was hanging over her shorts. I, ah..."

"Maybe it's no different from the reaction to a naked breast, or hair color. People find different things erotic. There's no harm liking stumps or big bellies or other features."

"Maybe. I don't think so. I don't know."

"What if I lost an arm instead?"

"I've thought about that. I think I found Harold's mother more interesting than Ms. Carmen."

"I see."

"Mother, thanks for being so understanding."

"Thanks back at you. I'm enjoying myself, although it's still wrong."

"Maybe that's what makes it so good."

"Uh-huh."

The front door closed. Father was home. Mother ran her fingers though her hair, straightened her clothes and hurried to greet him. I sat at my desk replaying the conversations - all of them.

-oOOo-

My dreams were filled of Glenda, Vera, and my mother as amputees. There, they were all close friends. Vera had explained the reason for the amputation and Mother went to the same surgeon. Father had divorced her, as expected, and now the four of us lived together, and I made love to all of them. It was a fantasy, but I could not stop having the dream. I probably had it three or four times during the night.

Father left to play golf before I got up. Sometimes he would leave early and have breakfast with the other men. That is what happened this time.

Mother was undressed when she sat on my bed, then slipped under the covers. We were both ready.

I needed to go to the bathroom an hour later. I probably should have gone before we started. We both got up to go.

She was sitting on the bed with one foot under the hip, rubbing her knee, then along the thigh a few inches above, and back over the knee. It looked like she was rubbing a stump. I couldn't stop the erection from forming.

"Does this excite you?" she cooed.

"It looks like you're rubbing your stump."

"I know. Nice, isn't it?"

I nodded, continued to watch, get more erect.

"It should be shorter, don't you think?" She grinned.

"Are we just playing around?"

"Maybe. Would you like that?"

I nodded several times.

"I could wrap a bandage around it so it would stay folded."

She walked to her room and back, then wrapped the folded leg with a wide elastic bandage. She stood, balanced on the single barefoot.

"Well?" She grinned, rubbed the knee.

"Beautiful. Do you have any crutches?"

"No. Should we get some?"

"Yes. Can you do that with clothes on?"

"Maybe, let's see."

I went to her bedroom and returned with jeans. Sitting, she pulled them on leaving the empty pants leg to dangle free. Again she stood, hopped a few steps, almost fell, regained her balance, and stood in one place.

"What do you think?" she said.

"I think you should get rid of the leg...have a shorter stump."

"How short?"

"How about all of the leg?"

"At the hip...a disarticulation? Yeah."

"If Father leaves you, I'll be proud to be with you."

"You'll find a girl your own age and that is exactly what should happen."

I almost cried. Glenda had said the same thing. Why? Why could neither woman understand I could be happy with an older woman? Why did I need to find some young girl that just wanted to do girl things?

"Girls are so immature. I'll always want someone older."

"Always...forever, that's a long time. You will always be changing your mind about the kind of woman that excites you."

"Yeah...one leg or none." I laughed. "Ten years, no twenty years older."

She sat beside me, kissed my mouth, pulled my hand onto her stump. "My, my. You seem intent on this. How long have you known?"

I was not ready to tell her about Glenda. I had looked at most of my friend's mothers over the years and wondered what they were like, had my share of fantasies about each. My teachers had invaded the same fantasies as well. Maybe Glenda was my first amputee, but I had seen a few. I even had my share of fantasies about them, and looked online to see if I could find pictures. Boy, had I found pictures. Wow.

"This didn't just happen overnight." I kissed her, fondled the stump, knelt down and kissed the stump.

Her eyes closed; the head tilted back. "Oh, yes, yes, my stump," she moaned.

"I'm so glad you decided to have the amputation."

She kissed me a few times. "Yes, I was surprised how willing he was to do it for me."

"Despite there being nothing wrong with the leg?"

"He didn't care. All he wanted to know what how much of a stump. I told him I didn't want any thigh."

"So your lover could have full access to you."

"Oh, yeah-h, so you could. That's right."

We made love. She kept the bandage on, moaning about how great it was to have one leg. I had a feeling this was more for her own pleasure than mine. Maybe it was a desire she had for a long time. Maybe she shared something with Vera.

-oOOo-

It started to rain. Mother received a text message from Father that he was coming home early. Did he know what was happening here and just wanted to warn her? I doubted it. We made the bed and everything looked normal.

I was curious about Vera Sullivan, but there was no way to meet her. I closed the door and went to the web site where I had found the pictures of many amputee women, some chubby like her. I indulged my fantasies for half an hour or more. Would my mother really become like one of these women?

Now, that I knew what Vera looked like, it did not take much to find a few pictures of her. I even found a site where women modeled and sold sets of pictures in all manner of dress. She was alluring. Obviously, someone had used plenty of makeup. Her stump was at the hip. It was neatly done, just a faint scar, smooth, few puckers and wrinkles. It was far neater than I expected from having a train run over a leg. Maybe some doctor had re-amputated the leg.

Vera used the name Francis. Using the Google picture search, I found the newspaper articles I had heard about reporting the accident, which was on purpose and not an accident according to more recent articles. Quotes from Vera mentioned BIID and how it had been a lifelong problem for her, that she wanted others with the illness to know they were not alone.

If I had not seen Vera, I would have never known. I would thank Connie but if I did it would show I was interested, and she would probably tell everyone. I would never be able to show my face at the grocery store again, and I would have to stop my newspaper route. Of course, Harold did know about Vera and at least Connie knew, probably most of the others did, and Harold did not take much heat for that. Did everyone know what they did together? How do you approach someone about that. Harold, is it true you sleep with your one-legged mother. What's it like, you know, to bang an amputee that's also your mother. How does it feel to know she wanted the leg off. Is it something you want as well.

Father had not returned so I told Mother I had something to show her. "That's Harold's mother...Vera," I said, pointing to one of the sample pictures she was selling.

"Shit, she's pretty nice looking." Mother tapped the screen. "Would you like it if I had a belly like hers?" She rubbed her flat stomach, probably having never had an ounce of fat anywhere. "There, look at her holding that wonderful roll of belly fat. Whoa."

Her reaction surprised me a little, but I said nothing. "And here are two newspaper articles. The first is from just after the accident, and the second more recent when she went public about something called BIID."

"I've heard of it...when you think a limb should not be there."

"Yeah. Do you think people really have that?"

"They liken it to being transgendered, you know, when you think you are a girl but have a boy's body."

"There is a trans girl at school. A bunch of guys give her a bad time although she looks like a real girl."

"That's mean." Mother sat down at my desk and began reading the articles. "How'd you find these?"

I blushed. "Once I knew what she looked like, I looked at this site that I stumbled on that has pictures of amputees. From there I used Google to find other places her picture was located. That's how I found the modeling site."

"Dick Tracy would be proud." She continued reading. "A train...that's a bit drastic." She read more. "Then, she found a surgeon to revise the stump, remove some more."

"Overseas it said."

"Yes, a Dr. Ruiz. Did you Google her?"

"No."

Mother did the search I had failed to do. "She's in Cartagena Colombia, had BIID herself, had an amputation, and now does amputations for people with it."

"Maybe you should go." I grinned.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" She rubbed my crotch. "God, Bruce, you're hard as a baseball bat."

"I guess I am." I laughed.

"What will I do with you now?"

"Too bad what we did this morning is wrong." I laughed. "I really liked when you had the leg bound up."

"Me too," she whispered, hoping I would not hear.

The front door opened, and we hurried to close the computer windows filled with stuff about amputees and about Vera.

-oOOo-

I did not have any time alone with Mother for the rest of the weekend. Sunday afternoon I slowly drove by Harold Sullivan's house. His car was gone. Vera was working alone in the yard, ratty jeans, old tee shirt, belly visible, running shoe. There was no way to approach her. I drove past, cursing myself for being too chicken to do what needed to be done. I did not think she had seen me, so I circled back around, and ten minutes later made a second pass, this time even slower.

She looked nothing like the modeling pictures. If I did not know better, I would have sworn they were two different women. She looked haggard. I thought about the phrase love over comes all and how that might apply to her. I looked up just in time to brake before hitting a slow moving cat. The tires squealed some. The cat meowed loudly and hurried to the curb.

Vera grabbed her crutches and walked quickly to the cat. "Shame on you, kitty." She pushed it with a crutch tip. The cat ran under the porch. "You okay?" she said to me, walking closer.

I took a deep breath, looked her over, found that looks did not matter in her case. "Yes, ma'am. Is your cat okay?"

"She's got to learn to be faster, or she'll get run over one day." She rested a hand on the opened window sill. "Yes, she's fine." She smiled. "Can I get you something to drink? Least I can do for missing the cat." She laughed.

The last thing I wanted was to be there when Harold returned, but I really wanted to speak with Vera, especially now that I knew she modeled.

"That'd be nice. Are you sure I'm not putting you out?"

"My son's gone for the night. Some company might be nice."

I knew I was running the risk of being found out. She would tell Harold about the visit, and he would say something one morning while everyone was folding newspapers. Right now, nothing would have stopped me from getting out of the car once I finished parking closer to the curb.

She was waiting on the sidewalk to the porch, holding two bottles of beer when I closed the car door. She handed me one and grinned. Introductions were made. She used the name Vera as I suspected she would. I said nothing about knowing Harold, and especially nothing about the rumors of them sleeping together. For all I knew, it was just a lie as Connie had last said.