He stopped kissing her when the edge of his hand brushed against the edge of the prosthetic. Even under the pants it felt different than her leg. He kept his gaze on her face.
“Are you sure?” he said.
“Don’t you want to f**k me tonight?”
“Yes, but…”
“You’ll see it eventually. I want you to see it, the prosthetic, and my leg.”
He nodded. “Does that mean I get to take those pants off you now?”
She kissed him again, hungry for him, then said, “With these pants it’s easier to take the leg off first.”
“Do you want me to… can I help you with it?”
She hesitated, then nodded. “All right.”
He pushed up her pant leg, the plastic and metal cold under his hand. The top was a sort of cup for her real leg to sit in and straps to hold it in place. He needed one hand to support her and two for th
