Letters to the magazine "Penthouse"

Forum rules
Communication only in English!!!
Messages in other languages will be deleted!!!
Post Reply
User avatar

Topic Author
admin
Администратор
Posts: 4253
Joined: 25 Oct 2016, 22:49
Reputation: 1009
Sex: female
Has thanked: 262 times
Been thanked: 3697 times
Gender:
Ukraine

Letters to the magazine "Penthouse"

Post: # 4146Unread post admin
28 Apr 2017, 14:30

Art and Amputees

H.C.'s sexual experience with his one-legged aunt (June) brought back fond memories to me. For my own first sexual intimacies were also a family affair with a woman amputee, my stepmother.
My real mother died when I was eight and a year later my father married his bookkeeper, who was a very beautiful 27-year old spinster. Our new stepmother proved very kind and affectionate, and my two younger sisters and I soon learned to love her almost as much as we had our own mother.
My stepmother's left leg had been amputated a few inches above her knee, but she wore her artificial leg only part of the time, mostly when doing housework. More often, we saw her on crutches and sometimes she would hop around the kitchen or bedroom balanced on just the one leg. She never tried to hide her stump from us and would even joke about it at times. She gave birth to two daughters, but always treated her stepchildren and natural children as equals.
I was 17 when my father passed away and my stepmother began calling me the man of the house since I was the only male among six females. He left us well provided for, and we continued as the same tightknit family, with my stepmother supervising his business.
About six months after my father died, I knocked at my stepmother's door in my pajamas to tell her goodnight, as I always did. To my surprise, she invited me in and I found her sitting up on her bed, on top of the blanket, wearing only a sheer nightgown and reading a book. She was sitting up against the backboard with her one leg drawn up close to her and the book resting on her upraised knee. Her nightgown wasn't pulled down and, with her knee up high, it was formed into an open-ended tent through which I could see her stump resting on the blanket, plus the underside of her full upraised thigh. To my shock and embarrassment, I realized she had no panties under her nightgown, for I saw a bushy mass of light brown hair matching the color of the hair flowing onto her shoulders. I tried to avoid looking, but she seemed absorbed in her book, though I kept stealing glances up to the junction of her leg and stump.
She asked me to sit down beside her on the bed and, putting her arm around me, she began complementing me on the way I hand taken over my father's responsibilities since his death. She spoke softly and fondly of my father and started talking about "other responsibilities" of his that she hadn't yet mentioned. She whispered "A woman needs a very special kind of love that only a man can give her", and hugged me tight. "Your father knew all about that, but now that he is gone, I think you should learn about it, too." Then she kissed me and added, "after all, you're the man of the house".
I sat in stunned silence as my stepmother suddenly stood up next to the bed balanced herself on the one leg and, to my shock, pulled her nightgown up over her head and tossed it aside. I was afraid to look, but she said it was okay and I was "old enough to know the facts of life". She was twice my age, but still very slim and beautiful, despite having had two children. Her breasts sagged a little and she had big, dark brown nipples instead of the pink ones I thought all women had. With her hands on her hips, she balanced herself on her leg with her thigh stump twitching back and forth in space.
She smiled down at me, amused at the embarrassed way I was trying to conceal the bulging erection that was forming. "One-legged women look a little different, I know," she said, lifting her stump for a second. "But it's a difference that your father appreciated and I hope you will, too. Watch."
My stepmother began to hop on one leg in a big circle round the bed from one side to the other, watching my reaction all the time. Her breasts flopped and bounced wildly with each hop and her stump was jerking around in a broad arc even more than when I had seen it waving around when she played ball with us at the beach.
She approached my side of the bed a bit out of breath, snapped off the light and lay down next to me. I was in a cold sweat wondering what to expect next, and hoping none of my sisters would wake up and find out where I was. Soon, I was aware that my stepmother was pressing her body against my thigh and rhythmically rubbing the stump of her leg back and forth. She told me to slip my pajamas down and soon I could feel her hand gently on my pe nis, guiding it into the fluffy, soft mass of hair I had gaped at moments before. We began rocking in unison til she whispered: "Remember, take it slow till you get used to my stump."
That evening was the start of a regular intimate relationship that lasted until I went off to college. I'd wanted to continue living at home, but she insisted it was time "I left the nest and flew on my own." I began to have affairs with girls on the campus, but found it a trifle less satisfying when my partner had two legs.
One weekend, my stepmother revealed she had started dating a widower who had just moved into town. So we decided to end our relationship. We kissed and embraced like mother and son, and I never again shared her bed.
But she knew I had developed a taste for amputees and gave me the phone numbers of a couple of girls my age who had each lost a leg. She had met them on visits to her artificial limb makers. She'd jotted down a brief description of each girl--left leg off below knee, right leg off at upper thigh, etc. Next to one girl's name was "no stump, but very cute."
A year ago I married a one-legged girl (though not one on my stepmother's list). I first saw her hopping past me at a swimming pool. She was wearing a bikini and a little five-inch stump was waving around where her left leg should have been. When I told my wife about the old relationship with my stepmother, she was very understanding, but laughingly promised that if it ever started again, she would break her wooden leg over my head!

The letter headed "Tee for Two" (June) describing the girl on the golf course who masturbated with the shaft of a golf club has prompted me to write about the most ingenious and simple method I have ever witnessed. By accident, I saw a one-legged woman rouse herself to a throbbing orgasm using the handle of one of her own crutches. It wasn't a wooden crutch, but an elbow-high tubular metal crutch with a projecting rubber-covered handle like a bicycle handle grip and a U-shaped piece at the top that fitted round the user's forearm.
I was checking an old parts list in a deserted section of our company's warehouse where old records and storage files were kept. I heard a woman's moans coming for the other end of the supposedly locked warehouse, so I went to investigate. I could see a woman's head bobbing around between two stacks of files. It was the boss's secretary, an old maid in her thirties who was still attractive but embittered about the amputation of her left leg.
I tiptoed closer and was astonished to see her standing on her one leg in front of a table with her dress up around her hips and her short stump visible. One of her crutches lay horizontally between her full leg and her stump, so she reminded me of a woman riding a broomstick. The handle of the crutch was inside her and the top stuck out behind her.
Her left hand was leaning over the table for support and her right hand gripped the front end of her crutch. Using the edge of the table as a fulcrum, she was working the crutch up and down like a jack handle.
As she approached orgasm, her body began shuddering and her stump jerked around violently. When she climaxed, her whole body was shaking and she started hopping around. Afterwards she removed her crutch, sat down and calmly wiped off the handle with some tissues.
I stood there with an erection, wondering how I could capitalize on this one-legged secretary's secret sexual cravings. I soon discovered she often visited this deserted part of the warehouse at the same time for her secret self-gratification. On four days in succession, I watched her masturbate till I worked up enough courage to barge in on her and take my chances. I thought she might fire me on the spot, which she had the power to do, but I didn't care. To my surprise, she said, with her usual crisp tone that it was a shame to mess up her crutch handle when there was an able-bodied fellow like me standing around doing nothing.
Suddenly her dress was up and she was stretched out on some low files. She looked so ludicrous as she told me, "Hurry, I've got to be back for a meeting in 15 minutes", but I followed her orders to the letter.
After that, I became her secret in-company stud and enjoyed every minute of it, I admit. A couple of weeks later, I found a $20.00 raise in my pay check and a note on the boss's stationery commending me for "increased initiative". When I left the company a year later for a better-paid job she was almost in tears. But it was fun while it lasted.

While my wife, who is legless, does not hang from willow trees like the girl D. H. W. of Decatur, Ga., knew (October), she has proved to be an exciting lover. I met her three years ago when my company transferred me to a new regional office where she worked as a receptionist. It was over a week after meeting her at work that I found out she has no legs because she used a regular office chair and a desk concealed where her legs should have been. She says this helped her get dates since many guys would not bother to ask out a girl they saw seated in a wheelchair. Some of them backed out or dated her only once when they found out. But there were a few like me who were fascinated by her lack of legs. We married about 6 months after we started dating.
My wife's lack of legs is the result of a congenital deformity. She is 24 and, having been legless since birth, she has adapted well to her condition. Since her legs were not amputated, but just failed to form, her stumps, which protrude just a short way out of her panties, are not scarred. She has a rather elaborate prosthetic device which fits her lower body and allows her to walk.
After nearly three years of marriage, I'm still turned on by the way she handles her legless body. We enjoy bathing together. She has large breasts (40D) with big dark nipples and areolae. It is very exciting to watch her swing her nude, legless body into the bathtub with her beautiful breasts bouncing. In keeping with the current trend she does not wear a bra.
We have a child of six months. Those of your readers who are turned on by female amputees would probably flip their lids at the sight of a pregnant one. As you can see, there's a lot to be said for being married to a legless woman.

Following a car accident about 18 months ago, I lost both my legs. Unfortunately, my husband does not find my stumps exciting. Though we had a good sexual relationship before the accident, he has been impotent in all attempts since. He recently told me that the sight of my scarred stumps turns him off, and he did not think he could ever obtain an erection with me again.
Since I am only 26 and do not relish the thought of never having s*ex again, I am considering a divorce. Most men have thought me attractive in the past, and I still have a good figure.
I hope you will continue to publish letters from men who find amputees like me attractive. I know that reading such letters in your magazine has helped my morale.

Is Carol E. of Dallas, Texas (December), by any chance kidding when she asks if many men feel attracted to female amputees? Not only should she research the columns of Penthouse Forum for every month of 1972--except July--to get an idea of the variety and intensity of men's interest in female amputees, but I can personally assure her there is an unknown but large number of us who feel that a woman's stump is a fascinating asset to her desirability, while possession of two stumps would, in algebraic parlance, raise the factor exponentially!
I have been married for years to a one-armed girl who still bewitches me. I have also had the pleasure of knowing intimately more than one stimulating stump, and I am not unaware of the charms of a double ration at the same helping. There are many eligible young men who would love the company of a legless chick not only in bed but in all activities. As I recollect, in the October issue you published a letter from a New Jersey group called Ampals formed to encourage social contact between amputees and non-amputees of the opposite s*ex. I am sure they would be able to help Carol feel reassured of her desirability as a woman, and at the same time gladden the hearts of many of their male members. At 26 years of age and with her stated combination of two stumps and 46-25-36 figure, Carol could have her choice of men, age 18 to 80, rich or poor, he-man or bookworm and any size, shape or type she wanted.

Your reader Carol E. asks what we think of making it with a legless chick and if many men are attracted to female amputees. I cannot answer for many men, as I have not taken an extensive poll. But we have six male commercial artists in our studio, and here is the result of my own small survey.
One of my colleagues is only interested in perfectly-shaped girls. Another prefers very obese women, while my boss really digs girls with permanent tattoos. One man likes his girls to wear leg braces. Two of us have been involved with amputee girls. The other fellow had known a girl who'd lost a leg, and another who had lost an arm.
Since adolescence, I have had a preference for amputees. I have known, to varying degrees, a girl missing one arm above the elbow, a girl who lost both legs below the knees, a girl who lost both legs near the hips, and a girl who is missing most of her fingers. Though I have a preference for amputees, I do not consider it a fetish in that I enjoy other women as well.
Carol shouldn't have too much difficulty meeting fellows at the beach or a singles bar if she wears some provocative outfits which show off her stumps. When you haven't got it, flaunt it, so to speak! I've seen two girl amputees in the same location at different times, one in slacks and wooden leg hiding it all, the other in a mini-micro on crutches attracting lots of whistles. It depends on the girl. Good luck, Carol!

Until recently I had not thought that being an amputee would hinder a person's love life except that limited mobility might make it difficult to encounter a sexual partner. I guess I was naive not to realize that this would be a turn-off to some men. Recently my roommate brought home a girl he met at a party. When he undressed her, he found that she had a wooden leg so he made her get dressed again and took her back to the party. When he told me about it, I couldn't understand why it had turned him off. While I was dwelling on his rejection of that girl, I realized that I was extremely sorry that it was my roommate and not I who had met her at the party.
I imagine quite a few men would be turned off sexually by a double amputee, but I feel that after they overcome their own psychological hang-ups, they would not even consciously think of the girls' lost legs. Personally, I 'm turned on by the idea of s*ex with an amputee and I am sure many other males feel the same way.


473-2

Before I was old enough to have an ejaculation I had my first sexual experience with a girl much older than myself whose right leg had been amputated near the pelvis. At her invitation, we had a rendezvous in the loft of a barn. She removed her panties, pulled her dress high above her hip and invited me to make love to her. I stared at the pink lips of her vagina and at the amputation. I must have disappointed her very much because she was really anxious, but with no experience I did not know how to make love to her.
Later, with her left leg dangling over the floor of the loft, she asked me to sit next to her and I felt her amputated side pressing against me. She took hold of my pe nis, which immediately hardened and, with her hand, gave me an orgasm. I vividly recall the marvelous sensation which had nothing to do with her amputation, though I fail to understand how anyone could be repelled by a legless beauty.

The problems encountered by Jane of Mobile, Ala. (February), since her amputation struck a sympathetic chord with me. I married my first husband when I was 19 and he was 22. He had a tendency to overindulge in alcohol whenever we went to parties. We had been married only 10 months when, returning from one of his drinking bouts at a party, he ran a stop sign. Our car was broadsided by another car on the passenger side where I was seated. The accident resulted in only minor injuries to my ex-husband. However, it was necessary for doctors to amputate my right leg above the knee, leaving only a five-inch stump. A week later, my right arm was amputated also, about two inches above the elbow. Thank heavens I am left-handed!
After my recovery, our first sexual encounter and those following were a disaster. He said the sight of my stumps sickened him and he could not get aroused. These were strange words! Our marriage didn't last too long after that.
Through a friend I obtained a job as a filing clerk, a job requiring only one arm. After three years I met a man who was able to accept my disfigurement and have since had five years of married happiness. Like so many of the men that write to you, he has a fetish for female amputees. When he returns from work he prefers to find me not wearing my artificial leg. To please him, I wear hot pants and a sleeveless top, allowing full view of both stumps. The circular movement of my stumps when I hop from place to place usually ends up in the bedroom. So don't worry, Jane of Mobile, you may still find a man who'll appreciate you the way you are now.

I am 27, and have been an amputee since I lost my left leg at mid-thigh when I was about eight. Probably because I've been an amputee for so long, I've never been shy about my lack of a leg. For the last four years I've been married to a man who, like many of your readers, is fascinated by the stump of a female amputee. As a result, I usually wear short skirts when I go out, allowing the end to show. When my husband is home, I wear short shorts so that my stump is fully exposed. I have never liked to use and artificial leg, and mostly I use a single crutch and, believe it or not, a good ol' peg leg.
When my husband and I go out socially I use a crutch. I have several, painted different colors to match whatever outfit I wear. However since a crutch is somewhat cumbersome when doing the housework or grocery shopping, I strap on my peg leg for such occasions. Probably many people think a peg leg is not very feminine, but it's practical for me. Besides, I always wear clothes which show off my very feminine figure (39-23-35). Because very few amputees use peg legs any more I get a lot of stares when I wear it in public, but they don't bother me, and my husband finds this exciting.
Sexually, I feel I can compete with any two-legged girl. Because my husband is so turned on by the sight of my stump, I usually begin our lovemaking by undressing slowly at the foot of the bed. Once I have my clothes off, I lift my stump so that it points towards my husband and I begin slowly to massage it. This excites my husband greatly, so he takes over and we go on from there.

I was unaware of the sexual significance of an amputated leg on a woman until my wife lost her right leg above the knee in an accident about a year after we were married. That was three years ago, and our mutual sexual pleasure since then has far surpassed the relationship we enjoyed when my lovely was a normal two-legged woman.
When she first came home from the hospital with a stump of a thigh where her right leg had been, she was afraid I would find her repugnant and would no longer want to make love to her. But just as soon as the doctor pronounced her stump fully healed. we resumed our lovemaking and were both amazed to find that she was just as good a s*ex partner as before, if not better. She quickly got the knack of maneuvering her body with just the one leg and found that her stump was very sensitive to physical contact, especially against my body. Her stump became almost like a third hand and even now, when she embraces me while standing up, she expresses her affection, if she is not wearing her artificial leg, by pressing her stump against me while we are standing close.
Of course I was used to seeing my wife nude in the days when she still had both her legs. But the first time I saw her hop across the room on one leg without a stitch on and that little thigh stump waving around in space next to her crotch, I almost blew a fuse. I quickly invited her to hop back to bed and lie down for a quickie before I went off to work. Whatever sexuality she possessed as a two-legged woman seems to have at least tripled when I see her hopping around nude with just one leg now. I don't understand the phenomenon, but I know every guy who has a one-legged wife or girlfriend that I've compared notes with feels the same way.
As for my wife, she signals her interest in having relations merely by giving me a couple of nudges gently with her stump against my hip or groin, if I haven't already taken the initiative. Without her uttering a word, I get the message.
She has excellent muscular control over her stump and can move it to any position easily. She especially enjoys having me massage her stump after she has unstrapped her wooden leg and quite often when I start running my hand up and down her stump inside her skirt, I discover she has also removed her panties. I challenge any husband to resist a gold-plated invitation like that.
But don't get the idea that being married to an amputee is a s*ex-for-the-asking deal. On the rare occasions when she's not in the mood or it's the wrong time of the month, my wife merely swings her right thigh stump across her crotch and it's as good as a chastity belt.
My wife has got over her self-consciousness and last year she accompanied me to the beach in a bikini. She can still swim with her leg off if I help her in and out of the water. She was by far the prettiest girl on the beach and I could tell by the interest she was attracting that plenty of guys had bedroom eyes for my wife despite her stump. I let them eat their hearts out. for she is as faithful as any man could want.

You can include me among your growing number of readers who are intrigued by the sexuality of women amputees. My interest goes back to my high-school days. I had a strong crush on my English teacher, Miss F., a tall, beautiful woman of about thirty who limped on an artificial leg. At first I thought my feelings for her were motivated strictly by sympathy.
But one day Miss F came to school without her artificial leg on, walking on one leg with a pair of crutches. She told us her wooden leg was being repaired for a few days. That first day, every time she went up to the blackboard on her crutches or limped around the classroom on them, I felt myself strangely aroused by seeing just the one leg below her knee-length skirt.
A few times when she stood at the blackboard addressing us, I could see the left side of her skirt bulge out momentarily as something moved around inside. I realized it must have been her stump, and the thought of Miss F swinging her hidden stump around inside her skirt gave me an erection.
Later she gave us a quiz, during which she walked up and down the aisles on her crutches. When she stopped next to my desk to check my aisle-mate's answers, I relished the chance to steal close-up glances at her one leg and the legless left side of her skirt. Suddenly that side of her skirt bulged way out in front for a few seconds, and I watched her fingers reach down and rub the bulge through the cloth to relieve an itch on the end of her stump. Then the bulge disappeared as she lowered her stump inside her skirt; and she limped off down the aisle. How I wished for the gift of X-ray vision to probe the mystery inside one-legged Miss F's skirt.
That night I enjoyed a masturbatory orgy as I imagined how Miss F. would look as she undressed herself for bed. then I fantasized my pretty one-legged teacher inviting me to help her into a bathtub and letting me see and feel her naked stump, breasts, and other forbidden areas.
The following day at school I tried to avoid looking at Miss F as she limped along on her one leg and crutches, for fear I would get an uncontrollable erection that I couldn't hide from my classmates. Our class was half girls, too. But somehow I managed to keep my self-control throughout our English class.
After school I had a temporary job taking inventory in our school's basement book-depository, where all books for the entire school district were stored. I was alone, crouching between the stacks checking some titles, when I heard someone coming. Peering through the open stacks, I could see it was Miss F, and she headed into the stack next to where I was crouching. I kept quiet and watched as she took a few books off the shelves and examined them, unaware that I was in the next stack. After a few moments I saw her slip her crutches out from under he arms so she could bend over and reach a lower shelf. When she straightened up again, she didn't replace her crutches but merely leaned back against the shelves and balanced herself on her one leg while she looked through a book.
After a moment she put the book aside and scratched her stump through her skirt as I had seen her do in the classroom. She noticed that the nylon on her one leg was baggy at the knee, and she suddenly pulled up the right side of her skirt so she could adjust her stocking. She was wearing a white panty-girdle, and I was starting to breathe faster as I watched her rearrange her stocking top in the back and front garters, and also pull her nylon tighter around her one visible thigh. But then I caught a glimpse of something next to her stockinged thigh as her upraised skirt flapped around. The something was white and moved around.
I was looking at the stump of Miss F's amputated left leg, just barely revealed as she fiddled with her right stocking and garters. I strained to keep silent and carefully changed my position on the floor so I could get a better look into the stump side of her skirt. Her stump was about two-thirds as long as her full, stockinged thigh and not covered by anything. I was congratulating myself on my good fortune, when Miss F finished adjusting her nylon and dropped her skirt. Her stump was hidden again.
But then, as if in answer to my prayers, Miss F switched her attention to the left side of her skirt and hiked it all the way up to her girdle. I could see every inch of her stump now, and I could scarcely contain myself when I saw the stump suddenly swing up by itself and point upward at about a forty-five degree angle. Miss F put both hands around her stump and began massaging it slowly, closing her eyes as she did to indicate how soothing it felt to her.
For what seemed like ten minutes, Miss F stood there on her one leg with her skirt up while she massaged and examined her stump of a thigh. She even wiggled it around and did a few high kicks with the stump to exercise it. I got so carried away watching this scene that I knocked over a book. Miss F heard it, dropped her skirt and peeked under a bookshelf to see who was in the next stack. When she saw it was me, she said nothing, but straightened up and started to hop out of her stack and into mine. She didn't use her crutches and hopped along easily on her one leg by leaning on shelves as she went.
Before I knew it, she was in front of me, balancing on her single leg, demanding to know how long I had been watching her. When I confessed to seeing everything, she reacted in the strangest way. She pulled up her skirt again and swung her stump straight out in front of her. Then she took one hop and jabbed the end of her stump lightly into my stomach. She stood there silently, rubbing the tip of her stump against my shirt front and belt buckle. A sad sort of a smile appeared on her face and she said, "if you enjoy looking at the stump of a woman's leg so much, how do you like the feel of a stump?"
I was too stunned to answer, but she seemed to detect my sexual arousal. " My God," she blurted, "you actually like my stump, don't you?" She eased back with her stump but held it upraised in front of me while she picked up one of my hands and placed in on the inner side of her stump. "Let's see if you're man enough to excite a poor one-legged woman." Miss F then began stroking my hand up and down her stump thigh and rubbing my fingers into her girdle crotch. I was too dazed to do anything but let her push my hand wherever she wanted to. I was sweating profusely and seeing double through hazy eyes.
Miss F was holding my hand between her leg and stump and vigorously rubbing it against her panty-girdle crotch, when suddenly she clutched me to her and embraced me tightly. I could feel a shudder going through her body and heard her gasp, "My God, My God!" several times. I didn't know it at the time, but she had orgasmed through the action of my hand.
When it was over she let her skirt down again and asked me to get her crutches from the next stack. Her sweetness disappeared, and she commented that if I wanted to graduate with honors, I would be wise to forget the incident.
I could scarcely forget it, but after that she was very cool to me and never permitted me to be alone with her. If I smiled at her amorously, I got only a blank stare in return. Once when I lingered after class, hoping to catch her alone and perhaps get another peek at her stump, she rebuffed me with a curt "go find a one-legged girl your own age."
Eventually I did find several girl amputees my own age, and I plan to marry one of them. But I will always be grateful to Miss F for introducing me to this unique and most pleasurable aspect of sexual pleasure.

I write to add my comments to the interesting correspondence in your columns headed "Monopede Mania". I am a monopede and as a result have become a student of that abnormal sexual interest in amputees and cripples.
I am a one-legged woman. I come from a good family and hold a graduate degree. I have a good job, but I make just about as much money working as an occasional prostitute. On the whole, I have found the experience to be interesting and enjoyable. Now in my late twenties, I am unmarried and, I fear, likely to remain so. Having been without my right leg since childhood, I have compensated well for the physical handicap; I am skillful at walking with one or two crutches, a peg leg or an artificial limb. But the psychological handicap is harder to deal with; a one-legged woman in unable to forget her mutilation or the painful difference between her and normal women.
I became involved in prostitution at the urging of a business acquaintance, who put it to me frankly that he would consider it a great favor if I would accommodate him on a purely business basis. He was obsessed by amputees and this frustration was beginning to have an adverse effect on his life. He loved his wife and family and wanted only to get the monkey off his back. I was no virgin, though my s*ex life had not been exactly crowded. I was in no sense promiscuous. This man was decent and attractive. He made no pretense about his intentions, so I consented.
It is a blow to a woman to find the most sensitive and painful fact of her life becoming the source of her attractiveness, so I can't say the experience turned me on. On the other hand, it was not unpleasant or humiliating. The man was considerate and there was a little part of me that enjoyed the attention. This man was the first of my steadies; soon there were more.
The effect on my first client of my "therapy" was dramatic and he reported to me a Renaissance of his s*ex life at home. He comes back to me about once every six weeks, Others without families or with less commitment at home come oftener, and there are two who are very special to me, normal men who come to me as a woman rather than an amputee. Sad for me, they are both married. I never take more than two or three men in one week, never more than one in any twenty-four hour period, never a man whom I dislike and never a "quickie." I feel a genuine affection for my steadies; they are nice people. Most of them are prosperous--I am expert in their needs and command high prices.
Recognizing that I am being well paid to be an amputee and a cripple, I have made a study of what appeals to the monopede maniac. Each man has his special tastes, of course, but what I learn from one helps to provide variety for the others. Much is made of prosthetic devices, and I have an understanding with each man that if he pays for some special device, I can use it with my other clients. Other than that I take great care never to give out any information concerning any of my clients, some of whom know each other but others of whom remain anonymous.
It was a problem for me to overcome my feeling of repugnance at exploiting the sexual appeal of my handicap, and once in a while it still overcomes me, but mostly I have adjusted to it well enough to often enjoy the love-making that goes with it. There is, of course, much foreplay, not much of which I can enjoy, but my men are good lovers, and I often enjoy real orgasms with them, They like to see me walk and of course they want me to hop so they can see my breasts jiggling up and down (they are reasonably large, but they don't "flop") and my stump swinging. I have learned that my lameness is sexually exciting and I have learned to exaggerate it in certain ways. Being in first-class physical shape I can do a fetching one-legged dance and also a crutch dance. This is usually in the nude, of course, unless the client wants me to wear some item of clothing that he finds exciting.
One client has paid for a special foot for my limb that I can wear with a four-and-a-half-inch heels. He loves to see me teetering around on them with long, black stockings and garter belt.
Prostheses interest my clients, the more so, I have noticed, if they include some leather harness with formidable lacing. I have a pair of boots such as are worn by double amputees when they walk on their stumps. The left boot laces up tightly to hold my leg and foot folded back, so it appears I have a knee-length stump. My real stump being very short and small, I sometimes walk with this boot and a pair of short crutches, and other times with a boot that extends my stump to knee length. The left boot is painful and I do not wear it for long. That act fills me with horror, but some of my men love it.
One of these prosthetic devises actually turns me on. It is a special stump socket that one man thought up. He fastens it to his left thigh so I can put my stump in it, and then we walk three-legged together. This gives substance to my eternal fantasy of walking with two live legs, and I fantasize I am walking around our vast estates with my loving husband. I have padded out the weight-bearing saddle on the stump socket and can masturbate myself with it while we walk. I love it dearly.
Most of my clients are passionately interested in my stump, the exceptions being my two normal men and one who concentrates on my remaining leg and foot. (He is still classified as a monopede maniac, since he is uninterested when there are two legs and feet.) My stump is undersized, misshapen, scarred and ugly. I wince when I look at it and yearn for a leg in its place, but to them it must have a great charm--they want to caress, lick, bite or "massage" it. One man likes to hold it tightly while I struggle to move it, and all are delighted by any genital contact with. it. I have found that my stump's s*ex appeal is heightened by something tied or laced around it; I have a tiny corset of black leather for that purpose, though I leave the stump's scarred and ugly tip to protrude.
In a limited way, a stump can be an asset in lovemaking. As I sit astride a man's right thigh, facing him with no leg to come between us, I can come very close to him and use my stump to caress his genitals. I enjoy this and can become excited by it.
But being one-legged is a great handicap in bed. I fantasize about locking my legs around a man's body while he fucks me long and hard. I also dream of sitting astride my partner and taking charge of the action from the superior position , but both of these actions are totally impossible without another leg.
I have my moments of depression and loneliness, and even repugnance for the acts that I perform for the sexual gratification of my clients, but these are becoming fewer, and my life is ordinarily pleasant and interesting, Without exception, my men treat me as a lady and not as a whore, and take trouble to let me know they find me attractive as a woman and as a person. It has done wonders for my ailing self-image and I love them for it. Nevertheless, my dream remains that of being a wife and mother, and having a loving husband who sees me as a woman and not as an adjunct to a hideous stump. I keep my hopes up and in fact, receive an occasional proposal of marriage.
My hope is that this letter will add something to the valuable documentation of this and other similar sexual aberrations that Penthouse has made possible. This service to science and mankind has revolutionized the lives of some people by making it plain that they are not unique, perverted or immoral. I have come to understand my clients and their problems and to take pride in the professionalism of the service I perform for them. I feel that there must be a good many others like me.

I had the honor of meeting a co-worker who was doubly handicapped, being extremely near-sighted, and missing the left leg just above the knee. Without glasses she couldn't recognize my face at two feet. In spite of this, she was an attractive girl, with an above average figure. During working hours she always wore a pants suit or slacks. After a dozen dates or so, we spent one evening at her apartment. She had prepared a nice meal, we listened to some music, relaxed later to some TV and had a good rap session. Toward the end of the evening, she excused herself--to change into something more comfortable, she said. Ten minutes later she came strutting out of her room wearing a dress that ended well above the knees, an exceptionally high heeled shoe and a trim-looking peg leg. She paraded in front of me with a grin, showing off a beautifully shaped leg and the peg leg, which was nicely fitted to her stump. She could see my surprised look and was waiting for my comment. All that came out was "Wow!" She told me that she occasionally dressed this way just for a change. It was most appealing to me to see the combination of a curvy leg with a spike heel and a peg leg. We ended up in the bedroom where she stripped to a stocking with the high heel and the peg leg--still wearing her glasses. A short time later everything came off. On our later dates we spent more time in the apartment.
Unfortunately, my company transferred me and it's now too far to travel to see her.

I was recently introduced to your magazine by my current boyfriend when he brought me a stack so I could read the letters you have published about men who prefer women amputees to those who still have their arms and legs. He happens to be one of those men and is frank and open about it. While I am attractive and have a good figure (39-26-36), he admitted that he was attracted to me primarily because I have no arms and only one leg. I was born without arms, but a car wreck eight years ago was responsible for my being one-legged.
For twenty years I managed very well without arms, using my feet as other people use hands. Never having had arms and hands, I didn't miss them, although as a child, I was subjected to the cruel tormenting that children inflict upon other children who are different. I soon learned to dress and feed myself, and learned to write in school by holding a pencil or pen with my toes. I was a curiosity at school for a while, but the other kids soon got used to seeing my feet up on the desk writing or holding a book. At one time I had a set of artificial arms, but I could do more things with my feet so I rarely wore them. When I outgrew the arms, they were not replaced. I learned to type in high school, hunting and pecking with my two big toes, and was good enough to get a typing job in a typing pool after graduation. Now, with only one foot, I do have problems doing things for myself, but not much more than someone who has had an arm amputated.
As I reached my early teens, I had resigned myself to not having a social life and was very surprised when I was approached for dates. I wouldn't have believed a boy would want to date a deformed girl. Happily, I was wrong and was asked out as often as any of the other girls. It was not long before I discovered that my lack of arms was one of my attractions. While going through the adolescent stage of necking and groping on the back seat of cars, I found that my dates devoted as much time to my empty, armless shoulders as they did to groping for my budding breasts. I enjoyed their attentions in both areas, but couldn't understand why they liked to feel my shoulders so much.
The way I used my feet and legs was a unique experience for my dates, since I grew up in an era when girls wore full skirts that reached to mid-calf, and effectively hid legs. Also at that time a "nice" girl didn't let a boy touch her anywhere below the waist. I would have my date pull my skirt up over my hips to clear my legs and have him sit between them. Then I could hold him around the waist with one leg and reach my other foot up to hold him at his shoulder or neck. I always wore shorts over my panties to maintain some decorum, but in such a contorted position, he could not help touching my exposed thighs. Since I never objected, my legs were thoroughly stroked, examined and played with. I am sure I left many a young man extremely frustrated, as I was virgin until I was twenty.
I celebrated my twenty-first birthday with a party, a car wreck and having my left leg amputated a little above mid-thigh. I was quite despondent and bitter for a while. Not having any arms in the first place, losing a leg was a little too much. I finally got over my self-pity and found that my friends were still my friends.

I know that any man who dates an amputee does so because he prefers amputees. From my experience, a man either likes a stump or he doesn't. I have never dated a man who didn't care one way or the other. I also know that most of the men I date do not care for my false leg because they like to see and hold my stump. However, since I can't use crutches and refuse to ride in a wheelchair, I have to wear it whenever I go out. If he wants, I will let my date take my leg off at the first opportunity. Once, I let a fellow take it off while we were in a movie. Unfortunately, we misjudged the time and he was attempting to strap it back on me when the picture ended and the lights came on. It was very embarrassing to be caught in a crowded theater with my skirt up around my waist and my date fumbling with the straps of my artificial leg. After that experience, I have made sure I kept my leg on until we were in a more private situation. If I am entertaining a date in my apartment, I don't wear the leg at all and just hop if I have to move around.
I guess the main reason for this letter is in response to the two legless girls who wrote you not long ago and are now very unhappy about their future prospects. My advice to both is--circulate! Don't be a recluse just because you don't have your legs any more. Don't try to hide your stumps or pretend you still have legs. Go into any place where men hang out, usually a bar, and you will find many more men who will like your stumps than those who won't I know from experience and I have amputee girl friends who agree with me. My roommate is one legged and says her dates like her to wear a peg-leg or crutches. When I lived in California several years ago, I knew a beautiful girl with no legs. Although she had artificial legs, she seldom wore them. Instead, she straddled a padded peg, strapped it to both her stumps, and walked with crutches. Her skirts were just short enough to allow the ends of her short stumps to show. She always had plenty of male attention. Another girl I once knew was, like me, born without arms. She got the attention of every man by walking up to a bar, ordering a drink in a stem glass and then standing there, balanced on her left leg, while she held her drink with the toes of her right foot. Of course with her looks, figure and long shapely legs, she would not have had any trouble getting men in any case, but being armless didn't detract from her appeal at all.
Finally, one last thing for Jane of Mobile, whose leg-stumps turn off her husband. He can't help the way he feels about your stumps any more than the men who will like them. It is beyond their control. Get your divorce and get back into circulation. You won't have any trouble finding a man who will love you, scarred stumps and all.

I feel sorry for those married women who lost a leg and then found they lost their husband's love as well. But it was fortunate that some were able to remarry to men who appreciate the sexual significance of a one-legged woman's stump. I was lucky enough to be married to such a man when, after only seven months of marriage, I had my right leg amputated in an auto accident. It's off near the knee.
After my stump healed I wanted anxiously to learn if my husband would want to have intercourse with a wife who was now one-legged.
I didn't have to long to wait, for the instant we got home from the doctor's office after my stump bandages were removed, my husband gently took away my crutches and carried me to the bedroom. In a flash he had my skirt up, my panties down, and my one remaining leg out to the side so he could enter me.
That was three years ago and our marriage is growing happier by the minute. My husband is utterly fascinated by the stump of my right leg and begs me to wear the shortest miniskirts so he can see my stump swing while I'm getting around the house on my crutches.
I wear an artificial leg for just my housework, and I make sure I am wearing it when he returns from work each evening, For his greatest pleasure is to unstrap the leg and slip it off my stump, leaving me balanced on my one leg and leaning against the hall table. Then he gives my stump a welcome massage, which I love, and helps me hop to the studio couch for a little before-dinner lovemaking.
My one leg is still shapely, especially with a nylon on, but my husband is intrigued by my stump. He fondles it at every chance and is thrilled when I rub my stump against him in bed.
Other men seem to get excited by seeing my stump showing below my skirt, too. But I'm always faithful since I couldn't ask for a better husband.

Being an amputee myself, I detected a note of sour grapes from one-legged Mrs. S. F. who, in her [June] letter pooh-poohs the erotic appeal that many men find in a female amputee. She scoffs, too, at a one-legged woman who might exploit her stump to attract a man. Yet she grudgingly admits that her own stump is an "ironic dividend" that gives her husband "something to play with". I hope that's not her only concession to his sexual needs.
Obviously, no one enjoys losing a leg. But if fate has so decreed, why shouldn't a one-legged woman capitalize on the sexual advantage her unwanted stump gives her? When I lost my right leg at eighteen, it was almost the end of the world for me. But now, ten years later and a happily married wife and mother, I realize I could be lots worse off than having only one leg.
My husband is still just as spellbound by the six-inch stump of my right thigh as when he first saw me reluctantly take off my artificial leg on our wedding night five years ago. But now that I am no longer ashamed of my stump, I suffer the discomfort of my artificial leg only a few hours each morning, when I can do my housework with both hands free. Otherwise, I get around very nicely on my one leg and my trusty crutch, with my stump just hanging free and comfy under my skirt where I can massage it as often as I like--and where my husband can ogle it and fondle it as often as he likes.
Mrs. S. F. forgets that men see us differently and thank God for that! While I'm dressing in the morning, I personally feel like a lopsided freak as I hop around on the one leg with my homely little stump wagging so pathetically from the other side of my panties. But my husband devours my one leg with his eyes, and savors the view of my bare stump with no less relish that when he admires by breasts flopping above as I hop to the bureau for my bra. My little remnant of a thigh makes me an incomplete woman, but to my husband it makes me a more erotic s*ex object than I could ever be otherwise. Figure that!
After looking green with envy at your lovely Pets with their two lovely legs in those inviting poses, I feel so ludicrous when I lie back on the bed with my one long leg and my puny stump spread for my husband. But he doesn't complain, bless him, and says he loves the feel of my stump rubbing against him in bed, especially when I stroke it rhythmically up and down.
Since my stump is a bundle of interrupted nerves, muscles and veins, it can be an irritating source of odd sensations brought on by weather, nervous tension, overexertion or pressure of my artificial leg. The only way I can relieve those sensations is to massage my stump. But no matter how well I do it myself, it always seems so much more soothing when my husband's fingers are rubbing my stump. Of course, the physical relief I experience when he rubs my stump is different from the erotic pleasure he gets from the act.
On a female amputee, a stump can also be bothersome just before her period, because of changes in body chemistry. That's when I especially welcome having my stump massaged vigorously by my husband. And since he realizes that I may be "closed for alterations" in a few days, I'm not too surprised to feel my panties being slipped down before my stump rubdown is over.
To be a one-legged woman and still be able to sexually arouse and satisfy the man I love is one of the greatest personal triumphs I'll ever enjoy. Every night that my husband caresses my stump with his fingers or asks to have it rubbed against him while we are embracing, I say a silent prayer of gratitude for having such a husband.


Если нечего сказать по теме лучше промолчи @

.....бывают дни хорошие...
:angel:

User avatar

hhhford2
Интересующийся
Posts: 66
Joined: 31 Mar 2017, 16:45
Reputation: 0
Sex: -
Has thanked: 6 times
Been thanked: 42 times
Italy

Re: Letters to the magazine "Penthouse"

Post: # 4148Unread post hhhford2
28 Apr 2017, 18:35

Thanks to our too active admin who finds these beautiful stories. But .. where are all these women amp? :Search:
I don't know ONE!



User avatar

devartist
Posts: 5
Joined: 28 Jun 2017, 04:45
Reputation: 0
Sex: male
Has thanked: 6 times
Been thanked: 6 times
Gender:
Argentina

Letters to the magazine "Penthouse"

Post: # 7587Unread post devartist
13 Jul 2017, 19:58

Nice stories, i wonder how many of them were real? they seem too good to be true, but i enjoyed them anyway!
thanks a lot



User avatar

KnyghtRyder
Posts: 7
Joined: 01 Feb 2018, 18:50
Reputation: 0
Sex: -
Has thanked: 1 time
Been thanked: 14 times
United States of America

Re: Letters to the magazine "Penthouse"

Post: # 31873Unread post KnyghtRyder
13 Aug 2018, 18:24

Again, I just wanted to thank you and move this page to the top in the hopes there may be more where these came from.

I very much enjoy these articles as well as the ones you have posted from London Life. It's interesting to read both and analyze the cultural shifts between the two eras. Some things seem to akways remain the same, while others change with the times. It would be wonderful if we had a contemporary outlet for similar stories. Unfortunately, print is dying and with todays politically correct sensitivities; I'm not sure articles such as these would find their way into a medium of mass consumption.

In many ways a forum like this one is the modern equivalent for the 21st century. And in many ways this is superior, as it allows for nearly instant communication and interaction. The drawback is, at least in my opinion, that communication tends to be much more surface level and at times, argumentative. Additionally, everyone in this forum must already have at least a moderate interest in amputees. A massive publication like Penthouse, plants seeds and spreads awareness to those who may be previously unaware of what monopedes have to offer. With today's politically correct sensitivities I'm not sure articles like this would fly. There's certainly been a push for more amputees in media, but the general notion I perceive is that the stump in its natural form is something to be ignored instead of embraced.



User avatar

biotene
Posts: 9
Joined: 31 Jul 2017, 19:39
Reputation: 0
Sex: male
Location: New York
Ваш Знак зодиака: Стрелец
Has thanked: 38 times
Been thanked: 9 times
Gender:
United States of America

Re: Letters to the magazine "Penthouse"

Post: # 54813Unread post biotene
24 Feb 2021, 22:17

Thanks for the memories!! :Bravo:



Post Reply

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest