Cold Steel

Colder than a brass bra in Alaska. Damn I can't wait for summer. Of course then I'll be dying for winter again. Weather is all messed up these days. As I walk through the mall, seems every man, even a few women, is staring at me. I love the attention I get. Always been an attention whore and I play my looks up to squeeze every last drop out of people. These days, I'm not so bad looking for a 43 year old chick. I giggle at the thought of myself as a 'chick'.

After college, I caught on to what guys wanted to see, how to get their attention. I pretty much already knew, just I refined my skils. When I was home during holidays, my Dad, my Uncle, both of them were always trying steal a peek up by skirt, my nightgown, down my blouse. I'd flash them, they'd get a boner, my pussy would cream, we'd all be happy. They had no problem letting me sit in their laps. I could feel their hard cock poking up against my ass. When Mom or Auntie, weren't in the room, I'd reach down and touch it through their pants. I loved the feel of a hard cock through cloth. They didn't want me, I didn't want them. We all just wanted the thrill of peeking without being caught. A few times I could have sworn that even Auntie peeked at me. When I sat in her lap, I think she was just too timid to try touching me. Oh I believe she wanted too, very much so. Once I let my hand slide slowly across her breast, even lingering for a moment longer than necessary, but she never took the hint.

I'm sitting in the food court remembering things, in a time not so long ago. I must have been about 38, maybe 39, could have been nearly 40, that wonderful day. Some days just standout in one's life more than others. I didn't mean to meet Ben. It just happened. I remember the day so much more than when.

I looked in the window of a store, not to see what they have, but to check out the reflection of myself, to admire how I looked. Sounds snobby, stuck up. I know. I hear that from people. Sometimes beauty like mine can be a curse. Some days I dress a lot more casual just to not be so obvious, not to stand out so much. Doesn't seem to help much.

The reflection is nice. A tall woman, slim; lovely cream colored short sleeved sweater, not buttoned up far; skirt that ends just above the knees on long slim legs, bare, no stockings; and heals, not high, but enough to highlight my calves. Nice arms, nice hands, long fingers, nice nails. What I'd really like to do is hike my skirt and show my pussy to my reflection. I love to stand in front of a mirror and flash myself. Just the tiniest thought of doing that makes me moist between the legs.

Ah, a shoe store. Bet I could have some fun in there. Just inside the store, I grab a loafer from the shelf, hold it in my hands, turning it this way and that. Not bad looking, but probably would never wear such a shoe.

"Would you like to try that on?" I know the 2 guys were fighting over who would help me, I heard them talking as I picked it up.

"So you're the lucky one today." I sat in a chair and held my foot out for him to remove the shoe.

"What size?"

"Don't know. Maybe you could be a darling and measure?" Just let the sultry tone work its wonders.

John, that's what his name tag said at least, for all I knew, they had traded name tags, held my ankle and removed my shoe. His glaze was on me, not my foot, not my shoe, not the loafer. His hand almost missed my shoe the first time he reached for it. His hand shook with my ankle in his grasp. He put my foot in the measuring gadget and moved the little knobs around on it.

"Be right back."

"I hope so John." I said in the most sensual voice I could muster. He stumbled over nothing and almost fell.

He returned with 2 boxes.

"I'm Cindy." I held my hand out.

"Enchanted." What a silly response. Just a boy, maybe 20, not good at guessing ages, not all that bad looking. He smiled as he shook my hand, his fingers lingering over mine as he started to let go. His voice breaking up a little even though he only said one word. Maybe that was all he could get out. 'Enchanted' my ass, probably too many English Lit. classes.

He lifted my foot. I moved it a bit to one side, my knee a little higher than it needed to be, just enough he could see up the inside of my thigh. Though he could not see all the way up, I knew he had a great view. The poor boy was frightfully shaken and couldn't get the loafer on my foot.

"Need a hand dear?" I moved the other foot some as I leaned forward a little. Now he had a clear shot to my pussy plus he could see all the way down by sweater, nothing inside except my breasts, and erect nipples that he probably could also see.

"T t ta thanks." Some guys are too easy. Never grow up.

I reached down and took the loafer from his hands, touching his fingers, the back of his hand, stroking it a little, and slipped it on my foot while carefully spreading my legs a little more.

"That's nice John."

"It sure is Cindy. Prettiest one I've seen." I knew he wasn't talking about the loafer, not even close. He was staring right at the other end of my leg. Doubted he had ever seen a pussy or even knew what they looked like.

I wiggled my bottom a little in the chair, just enough to make my skirt ride up a little. I reached down and pulled on the bottom part of the skirt some. An excuse. At the same time I touched my pussy with my fingers, just enough to get some of the moisture on my finger tips. I put only one in my mouth. "Hmmm." I moaned deeply.

I held my hand out towards him, a finger I had not licked pointed out. He looked around, afraid, no one near, and he kissed that finger. He said nothing.

"You know John, I don't think this shoe looks right on me."

"Maybe you can show me something else ... I mean maybe I can show ..." He stammered.

"I understand John. Yes maybe I can ... another day."

I took the loafer off and put my shoe on, stood, and walked toward the door. Just before I walked into the mall, I turned and waved to the two guys who were carrying on an animated conversation. Wonder what it was about? Te He.

Windows were great for seeing someone staring at me without looking directly at them. Oh I'd caught a lot of great looks that way. Even a few people touching themselves while watching me. God, that would make me hot. I know most people think I have a different guy every night, or could if I wanted. And I could. But that's not what I want. I just want to show my pussy. Know that probably sounds strange. Desperate maybe. Depraved even. To me, pleasant.

Shop after shop, store window after store window. I would catch my reflection in some windows. 'Who's that hot looking slut?' I wondered quietly to myself. 'Bet she has a fine looking pussy.'

A travel agency had posters of the Caribbean in their window. 'Bahamas $399 with hotel', 'Jamaica $270 plus airfare'. I stood and dreamed.

"Bet you'd love to lay on the beach in Jamaica? Maybe a tall rum punch in hand."

I pop out of my day dream, look up. Handsome stud of a guy he is, could almost be my son if I had one. My heart flutters a little. I look straight into his eyes, I like guys as tall as I am. Great features. Nicely dressed from what I can see. Right now I'm spending all my time looking in those ocean blue eyes of his. 'Fuck me baby! All day and all night.'

"Bet you'd look good laying next to me on that beach." I wished.

"How about if you come in and we can talk about how many tickets to buy?" Was he coming on to me? You bad boy.

He walks ahead of me. The small place is empty except for the two of us. Nice ass, a real Kevin Costner kind of ass. Like to have my hands on that chunk of flesh. Any time, anywhere. I look at his arms, his hands. Holy shit, his left hand is a hook. My heart goes into serious overdrive. A man with one arm is my most personal, hottest fantasy. Fuck me, Fuck me, all day long stranger. I am so weak kneed, I can barely walk. Quick get me to a chair. Some nights I sit for hours looking at pictures of men with one arm and masturbate the whole time. Now I'm going to be face to face with a real one, not just a picture. Holy shit. Keep beating my heart.

I come out of a dream state just in time to see him motion to the chair in front of his desk and then sits down. The arm with the hook rests in his lap, the other on the desk.

"Now what is your favorite color of sand? Or maybe we could match the color of the water with your eyes?" I can tell he is flirting. I like that.

"Jamaica sounds lovely. Maybe one of those singles resorts? Lots of bare tanned skin on hot young virile guys."

He moves some papers around, leaving the hook laying in his lap. "I've been to a few. Lots of freedom. No kids. No need to cover up as much. Good food."

"Sounds lovely. ... You don't have to hide it ... your other arm. I don't mind."

"Thanks." He laid it on the desk, close to my hand. "So many people find it almost offensive."

I reached over and put my thumb and forefinger around the metal tip. "That's a shame they do." I stroked it a little, like a small cock, as my eyes went back and forth between his face and the hook. Nothing was said for a few moments.

He shrugged his shoulder, the hook opened a little, I slipped my finger tip inside and he let it close.

"Bet this baby might feel good on other parts." I wanted him. If I could, I'd just push everything off the desk and just fuck him silly right here.

"Maybe I could close early?"

"Like now?"

"Maybe?"

I didn't even know his name. I didn't care about anything else. "Do we have to go far?"

"As far as you want." He paused, looked at my face, again. "No. My place is a block from the mall."

"Almost too far. I think I can wait." I stood. He stood. My back to the door. I grabbed his real hand and pushed it under my dress and pressed his fingers into my uncovered pussy. "You've made me that wet." I was sopping wet, gushing, dripping down the top of my thigh.

"My name is Ben."

"Cindy."

He flipped the 'Open' sign over and locked the door. We walked side by side, his hook with my fingers around it as if it were a real hand.

In the front door, he stopped and looked at me as if asking 'are you sure?'. I just looked straight into his eyes, kissed him quickly, and pulled on his hook. "Where's the bedroom Ben?"

We sat on the bed, next to each other. I could tell he was a little uncomfortable. "I don't mind." I kissed his cheek, I kissed his hook. "Really, I don't."

He seemed to relax and started to unbutton his shirt with one hand. I reached over and finished, then pulled it off. I glazed at his upper body, his smooth muscled chest and stomach, the way his arm fastened on, the cables for moving it, for opening the hook. He started to remove all the hardware.

"Leave it for a while." I didn't explain. I pulled my seater over my head. Lifting his hook, I rubbed it across my nipple, it was cool, almost cold to the touch. "Feels nice." I pushed my skirt off and put the hook against my pussy, over my clit. "Yes."

"I can't believe it."

"Please do. I love this part of you. I want to know the rest too."

I unfastened his belt, his pants, and pulled them off along with his shoes and socks. His hard cock was like a large tent pole in his boxers. "Something needs attention." I laid my head on his thigh and stroked him through the cloth. "Feels so nice." I pulled the elastic band down and let the cock appear. A lovely cock with a large smooth head. I laid looking at it, occasionally touching it with a finger tip, my tongue, just taking time to savour it, to feast my eyes, my senses.

Ben laid back. I slid his boxers off. He took his arm off. I looked up at him, looked at how his arm ended between the elbow and shoulder. "We can play with the hook later." He covered the end of his arm as if to hide it. "No need to keep it covered, it's part of you."

For the rest of the day, we made love in all manner of ways. Every part of our bodies was explored. He used that arm in all the ways I'd so often dreamed about. This man was such a considerate lover. I felt more satisfied than I'd ever felt before. We rested, drained of all energy to do more. His arm stump stroked the side of my face. I looked into his eyes, I could never get tired of looking at them. Touched his stump with a few fingers and rubbed it gently. "I like this part of you, would love to see you not hide it in that hunk of plastic."

He was quiet as if thinking about something he might have trouble telling me, or maybe anyone. "Cindy ..." he started, then stopped, not just pausing.

"Ben, it's okay. Tell me. Is it about your arm? I'll understand. I promise."

"Well ..." he started again. I just looked longingly at him, stroking his short arm, cupping my hand over the end. "There're 2 things that I've always liked or wanted. One is attention." Another long pause. I was quiet and let him talk when he was ready. "Now this is the hard part." He held his stump more directly in front of my face. "I've always, I mean my whole life, wanted to be this way. Don't quite know why. Maybe because it attracts a lot of attention. Never cared why. Just knew I had to be this way."

"How long ago?"

"Last year. It's everything I expected."

I kissed him. "My turn Ben. Don't worry. I think you'll be pleased. I hope so."

"Sure Cindy. You're the best thing I've ever met."

"Well I like attention too, a lot. Always have. ... Also, I've always been turned on by pictures of men with one arm as well. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw your hook. Maybe this is too much to share so soon. Hope not." I paused for a moment like when he'd tried to tell me something difficult. "I like to expose myself to people. ... In fact just before I saw you, I'd been exposing myself to a guy in a shoe store." I could see his expression change a little. Not sure if it was good or bad. "I don't let them touch me or anything like that. I just get a charge, a serious rush, from showing someone, usually a stranger, my pussy." I tried to hurry though the next part. "I also go out at night with one arm tucked in my sweater." I slowed back down. "There, that's pretty much it, well there's maybe a tiny bit more."

"Haven't heard anything that would make me not want to be around you so far. Hell, if you can stand the fact that I wanted to have my arm off, how could I complain about anything you just told me?"

I took a deep breath, let the breath out. "Well ... I wouldn't mind ... having an arm off too. There. That's all."

"Would you mind if I was along when you flashed?"

Damn, he didn't even puke. I was shocked. I'd never told anyone that much about myself. Too afraid. Get the straight jacket, the padded cell, the loony wagon.

"That could be a lot of fun. You could expose me, if you want. I know the other person would be so jealous of you with your fingers on my pussy, parting my lips, showing them all that wet pink skin, ... Ben, this has me pretty damn hot. You up for more fucking?"

We went to dinner together. Ben wore a short sleeved shirt without his hook so his stump was exposed. I sat next to him and watched the other dinners as they would watch him, watch how he would do things.

"Oh Ben." I whispered in his ear. "I can't believe how everyone looks at you. If I were you, I'd cream in my pants from all the attention."

He reached down and put his hand on my thigh, I looked at him and nodded yes. His hand slid up my thigh and under my skirt. I leaned my head on his shoulder as he let his little finger slide between my pussy lips. My hand rested on his chest. I knew this was a good way to distract others who might be looking. I moved my head and kissed him on the side of the face. A finger tip slipped inside me and rubbed my clit. "Give me a taste." He held a finger to my lips. I licked. "Very good."

"Your salads. Ground pepper?"

"No, hot enough already." I dabbed the napkin at my forehead. He smiled, and left.

The days were a whirlwind, a mix of great white hot sex, public displays of my pussy, even some of his cock, lots of loving on his marvelous arm, everything was like from a romance novel. He was so smooth in the ways he would reveal my pussy out in public, I swear, sometimes they wouldn't even have a clue what had happened to them. Boom! Pussy. Boom! Gone.

It only took a month before we started living together. Around the house, I sometimes went with my right arm tucked in my blouse or sweater. I am left handed after all. That would make Ben rock hard to see me like that. Loved that cock of his. Oh my, did I ever love to suck that monster.

We used something that would paralyze my arm. Couldn't feel it, couldn't move it, couldn't use it. The effects usually lasted a few days. I was in heaven those days. We'd been using it for about 6 months off and on, usually during weekends. Always wore off.

Well one time it didn't wear off. Maybe we'd just been lucky, don't know. Into the 2nd week, I still couldn't feel my arm. I wasn't very panicked. Ben reminded me how much he loved me, how nice we both felt it would be if the arm wasn't there. That sure seemed to be way it was going to be too.

At the start of the 4th week, Ben took me to his doctor friend. A week later, my whole arm was gone.

We never tired of our love making, our public sex displays, of him having one arm, of me having one arm. Always wonderful. At least for the next bunch of years.

Don't know what happened, but one day when Ben came home, I was sitting with my other arm tucked away. I had just slipped my arm inside my shirt and sat there watching TV. All the same feelings I'd had pretending before, rushed back. It was like a shot of dope. I felt so good. I don't know how long it'd been before Ben came home, a hour, two. Don't know.

"Well look at you!"

"Hi darling. Hope you don't mind?"

"Mind? Why the fuck would I? God damn, you're beautiful that way."

"Would you mind helping with things I can't do? Even out in public?"

Today, I'm sitting here in the food court at the mall, a year after the 2nd arm came off, waiting for Ben to get us some burgers. A guy a few tables away is watching me spread my knees. I'm so damn damp, so horny, and I can't even finger myself. Damn it Ben, get your ass over here and let's give this guy a fucking good show.

At last, Ben puts the tray of food on the table. The sun glares off the cold steel of his hook, that wonderful thing I like wrapped around my clit, my nipples. Just the thought sends waves of pleasure though my body.

He holds a drink cup up for me, I suck the straw. I look at him and mention the guy at the other table, the only other person here, how he's looking under the table at my pussy, how much I want Ben's hand to touch me Right God Damn Now! His hand slides up my thigh and begins to finger me. I was already having a pleasant orgasm, but now, God now, it is rumbling through me like a 4 locomotive freight train.

The stranger unzips his pants and strokes his cock, then shoots a load all over his underwear. He was sure ready in a hurry. I blow him a kiss. He zips up and leaves.

Ben holds the burger in front of my mouth, I can smell myself on his fingers. Can life get much better? Next week we're going to Jamaica.