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Mother and son take on City Hall.

" She laughs, looking at the raging erection.

-

Joan slams down the shot of whiskey. The glass sits hard on the worn wood of the bar where mostly men drink to get drunk. "Another," she tells the bartender wiping the glass he just finished washing.

"Where's your buddy?"

"Roger's not my buddy. We work together. That's about it."

She takes a long look at the slim bald man filling the glass. He has an earring in one ear and a tattoo of a peg leg peaking from the shirtsleeve. He pushes the glass towards her and leans on one elbow, the towel draped over his shoulder.

"Nice tat," she coos before sampling the drink.

"Yeah. Did you ever know anyone that wore a peg?"

"Nope." She stares at his face imagining what that would look like. "You?"

"My old man had a friend that did when I was a kid."

"Bet that made you think of pirates." She chuckles then sips.

"Man, I never forgot the way that sounded...the tap, tap, against hardwood."

"Hell, if you had one leg." She sips. "You could get a peg."

"I do and I did."

"Whoa, really?"

"You should get a hook and we could be a team."

He laughs then wanders off to satisfy a few customers need for drink. His feet hidden below the backside of the bar, she can't see them or tell if he has a limp.

"Arrg matey, need more grog?" he teases, sounding like a pirate.

"How much of the leg?"

"'Bout half the thigh...enough to wear a prosthetic leg."

"Ever just use crutches?"

"Yeah...often." He fills her glass then smiles. "On the house."

"My name is Joan."

"Pete. Nice to meet you."

"You bet. I've noticed you, but I didn't know about the leg."

"Would that have made a difference?"

"Sure-e." She chuckles then chugs half the drink. "More grog, captain."

"That's a nice stump you have."

"It's a long story, sometime I might tell it to you...if we're alone." She nibbles her lower lips. "And naked."
"Joan, my lovely, 'that' could be arranged."

"I figured. When can you work me into the line of beauties begging to be with you?"

"Ha. Fat chance that happens."

"Why, 'cause of the leg?"

"Yeah, they run when they see my stump or even learn I just have one leg."

"Fools...I wouldn't."

"But you have a stump, you probably understand."

"Does it matter? Besides, I think a man with one leg is sexy." She takes his hand for a moment.

-

Joan rests her head on Pete's thigh and wipes a glob of jism from the corner of her mouth before fondling his stump. He fingers her slit and toys her bud, still pecking kisses there after another climax.

"Whew," she sighs. "You can do that again, anytime." She parts her thighs more and takes the come-covered head in her mouth for a moment.

"I have a feeling we will." He laughs.

"Good. I never get enough."

"Music to my ears. I love the way you taste."

"Talk about music...." She snickers then wriggles her slit against his mouth. "You can have my pussy all you want." She takes half the shaft and works her lips tightly along it.

He fills her with fingers, pumping and drilling quickly. "Oh god, oh god," she begins moaning repeatedly as before. Her hand strokes him casually, letting her own pleasure take priority. She turns her head and screams into the stump as another climax overtakes her.

"Give a poor cripple a break," she teases, still letting her lips kiss the end of his stump.

"You promised me your story."

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"Well, confess." He chuckles. His hand rubs the top of her thigh then the other. "Hmmm." He rubs again.

"Don't tell me you want them off."

"I bet you've dreamed about that."

"Maybe I have."

"Hey, it's okay."

"How much should I have off, then?"

"If we were married and I was rich...." He chuckles.

"Yeah, go with that dream for a moment."

"Well, then all of each or maybe a bit of a stump on one side and all the other."

"Think of how nicely your mouth would fit down there with no thighs in the way." She laughs.

Joan reaches for her foot then pulls it behind her neck, locking it behind the shoulder.

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