t3m19870312 发表于 2019-8-11 00:26
保罗很快的脱光衣服。安德莉雅将拐杖“喀啦”的朝地板上随手一丢，勉强用她膝盖微微后伸的好腿站着，紧紧 ...
更新重头戏
预告下回完结;P
楼主高产新文，支持
lzmzzq 发表于 2019-8-11 01:24
楼主高产新文，支持
多谢支持;P
戏份很足 楼主辛苦
本帖最后由 t3m19870312 于 2019-8-12 08:09 编辑
保罗一直到下午6点钟才醒过来。此时安德莉亚早已不在床上，稍早落在地板上的一双拐杖也不在那裡，整个屋子内都不见她的身影，当保罗穿好衣服，开始寻找着她的踪迹。对于她的不告而别，并没有留下任何字条，也没有明确的解释，令保罗很困惑，他在客厅等了半个小时，希望安德莉雅能够回来。然而她却始终没有出现，于是他只好摸着鼻子离开了。当下保罗只感到被遗弃，同时觉得非常失望。离开安德莉雅庄严富丽的家后，他惊讶地发现到黄铜门环上刻有“理察森”这个姓氏。保罗回想起他们刚认识时，安德莉雅有提到说她的姓是米德。他耸了耸肩，心想也许她在离婚后，又改回了她的娘家姓。
保罗回到家后，发觉自己仍希望安德莉雅能以某种方式联繫他，儘管他也晓得她并不知道自己的地址或电话号码。他决定在隔天回到她家去拜访。但整夜保罗却辗转难以入睡，他的脑海裡先想到了安德莉雅那美貌出众的身影，虽不幸因罹患过小儿麻痺症，让腿脚留下残疾而外观差距颇大，但这对保罗来说却是充满了无比的吸引力：先别提残疾程度较轻主要用来走路，而膝关节微微像后伸的右腿那足弓塌陷、脚趾也严重变形没什么美感的右脚，另外那条严重残疾又细又短、瘫软无助到完全不带一丝抵抗力、看上去楚楚可怜的短小左腿，以及那只袖珍玲珑、柔软娇嫩的小脚丫子，握在手裡的绝妙触感，特别是上头那一根根无力蜷曲的脚趾头，血液循环不良的整条残腿，使它们含在嘴裡就像是一粒粒刚从冰箱拿出来的葡萄一般，上头也丝毫没有任何难闻的异味；还有当两人在做的时候，她那尖锐高亢绵联不断、听上去直让人感到销魂的阵阵叫床声，这独特的体验令保罗久久难以忘怀。然后是关于亡妻萝娜可能会对此的想法等等。毕竟，安德莉雅是保罗在这35年的婚姻生活以来，除了已故妻子之外，第一位发生亲密举动，同时也是第一位腿脚不便的残疾女性。
第二天，睡眠不足的保罗被门铃给唤醒。他睡眼惺忪的起了床，穿上睡袍，迅速的走向前门。有两名男人以及他新买的书柜出现在门廊上。他让他们把他这件作品搬进他的书房裡。
当他们离开时，其中一名送货员转身说道“对了，亚当斯先生，贝琪˙理察森小姐有吩咐，要跟您说记得检查顶层的架子。那裡有一个信封是给您的。”保罗关上门，迅速前往这件出自他手工製作的战利品，看看那裡是否有些什么。果然，他发现有一个信封被贴在顶层的架子下方。它前面简单地写到“保罗”。他意识到这也是出自于萝娜的笔迹。他打开并展开它，发现上面写了比她第一封信还要多的内容。
给我最亲爱的达令，
如果你正在读这封信，那么想必一切都按计划进行了。 除了书柜，我还为你准备了另一份礼物。 保罗，我很抱歉，因为你需要我，所以我永远无法对你的慾望需求做出反应。 多年以前，当你向我们倾诉，你被残疾妇女所吸引时，最初我对此感到厌恶。但随着时间的推移，这种感觉变得圆润，因为我偶尔会亲眼目睹，你欣赏那些戴着支架和拐杖步行的残疾女人。 但是在我偶然发现你最私人的照片之前，我不知道这个吸引力对你来说有多强烈。 我很抱歉，亲爱的; 我不是故意窥探你的隐私。然后我也找到你浏览的一些网站。 我感到非常内疚，我无法做出回应，因为你只是需要我 - 接受和理解。
我透过创造梦想基金会而认识了安德莉雅。她是一名志工，我们一起做了几个项目。 起初我下定决心，确保你永不会和她见到面，但当我被诊断患有末期癌症时，我起了个主意并决定接近她。保罗，身为残疾人的安德莉雅非常了解你的癖好，她同意在我去世一周年之际，来创造让你的“梦想”得以实现。实际上这整件事，是由古董店的贝琪精心策划的。她是安德莉亚的妹妹。她在昨天你来到店裡的时候，同时通知安德莉雅，好让她展开接下来一连串的行动。请不要因为整个事件的上演而感到生气...这是出于我对你的爱。
我希望你能和安德莉雅度过美好的时光......她是一个很棒的女人。 但协议是，是否继续这段关係必须由她自己决定。 为了保护她，你们会在贝琪的，而不是安德莉雅的家裡度过一个下午。 她知所以离开了你，是因为我们的协议提到，她会在与你邂逅之后，花时间考虑各方面的全面情况。 安德莉雅答应我，除非她出自真诚地对你感兴趣，否则她不会主动“诱惑你”。 同样地，我也请求你不要继续与她保持关係，除非你不光只有对她的残疾会激起你慾望的方面，而是对她整个人感兴趣。保罗，我希望你的“梦想”是一次不可思议且难以忘怀的体验。我再次强调，请你知道我是因着爱你而做出这件事，并且也是出自于身为妻子的责任感。毕竟我必须努力，确保你有机会找到我永远无法提供的满足感。这是我所能给你最好的礼物。
永远全心全意，为你付出一切的萝娜
正当保罗思索着信上所写的内容时，电话响起了。而他却无法接听这通来电，因为此刻他的情绪不堪重负，以至于泪水不断的从他的脸上涌出。电话响了五声后就转接到答录机，他立刻从裡面听见了一个熟悉的女人声音，听上去夹带些许寂寞哀怨的情绪，且用令人感到怜惜的语气幽幽的说道：“保罗......请问您在吗？我是安德莉雅。我好需要…能快点再和您见面唷......”
全文完
本帖最后由 t3m19870312 于 2019-8-12 08:10 编辑
t3m19870312 发表于 2019-8-12 05:47
保罗一直到下午6点钟才醒过来。此时安德莉亚早已不在床上，稍早落在地板上的一双拐杖也不在那裡，整个屋 ...
又更完了一篇
可以好好歇上一阵了:lol
附上原文：
Paul pulled out of his garage and waited momentarily to make sure the automatic door closed completely. He then eased his old Mercedes 350 out onto the street and headed toward the highway. He was still perplexed about the call he had received the day before from a woman named Becky at "Casablanca" antique shop. It seemed that there was something there he had to pick up this morning; something that, she said, had been left for him specifically and could not be delivered. He asked her to explain, but she had been vague, saying only it was something his late wife, Lorna, had requested. His curiosity piqued, he was now headed across town to find out what was waiting for him.
The store was upscale and tasteful. Paul entered and asked for Becky. The woman behind the counter was she, and she seemed excited that Paul had shown up so quickly. She led him to the back of the store and stopped in front of a magnificent mahogany bookcase. Paul gasped.
He recognized the bookcase immediately as his own masterpiece, one he had hand-crafted years before and lovingly finished as a gift for his wife. It was easily the best work he had ever done and his wife, Lorna, had cherished the piece. But financial times had gotten tough in the 70's and the couple was forced to sell much of what they owned. The prized bookcase had been among the hand-made furniture sold. Paul and Lorna had both regretted the decision to let it go. But now,2005, here it was in front of him—30 years later, and seemingly none the worse for wear.
Becky handed Paul a note and he immediately recognized the handwriting as Lorna's. His wife had been dead now exactly one year today. He opened it with trembling hands.
My beloved Paul, this is my gift to help you remember me. I found your bookcase last June and bought it back. Becky will help you get it delivered to the home it should never have left. I thought the one year anniversary of my passing would be a good time to remind you I loved you with all my heart. Take care of my gift and never let it go again. Your loving wife,
Lorna.
Paul felt tears welling up and he apologized to Becky. She explained that she had worked with Lorna in the months before her death to plan the gift. Lorna's instructions were that Paul was not to be notified until exactly one year after she died. She was also instructed to never reveal the cost of the piece to Paul.
Paul knew Lorna had paid with her own money. Lorna had inherited a large sum from her grandfather just a few years after they had sold the furniture. There had always been an understanding between them that that money was Lorna's to spend as she pleased and that Paul would support their day-to-day lifestyle. He had provided for the two reasonably well but Lorna had often paid for lavish vacations and spectacular furnishings for their home.
As her passion, Lorna was also very involved with the local chapter of the Create-A-Dream Foundation, which granted the fantasy wishes of dying children. She had left all she had—almost a million dollars—to C-A-D when she died. By their mutual agreement, she left Paul nothing but her share of the home and their possessions. The couple had no children, and Paul was glad there were no offspring to fight for their mother's money.
Paul arranged with Becky to have the bookcase delivered the following day and left. He found his hands shaking on the steering wheel. His wife was uniquely creative and that was clearer now than ever. He read the note again as he drove and fought hard to keep his emotions in check. Lorna, how wonderful you were to me, he thought. He lovingly reminisced about his wife and their life together. How angry he still was that cancer had stolen her from him just as they neared retirement age. He had not seriously considered dating or even trying to meet anyone else in the last year.
Paul had entered the northbound freeway heading back toward home and was picking up speed. The sky was gray and rain was predicted. Suddenly he was confronted with an astounding sight. A late-model Cadillac was parked off the highway on the shoulder. A short woman of about 40s was raising the hood. She was exceptionally well-dressed, wearing a blue blouse and jacket, nude stockings cover her legs with a matching knee-length pleated skirt, Knee-length for her right leg, he noted. That was because her left leg was significantly shorter and the left knee was not even visible.
The woman wore Victorian-style "granny" lace-ups with a modest heel on the right foot. But Paul noted a build-up of at least 3 inches on the sole of the left coupled with an elevated, wide heel. Even so, only the front edge of the lift was contacting the ground, her foot stretching downward to accomplish that. Black forearm crutches hung by their cuffs as she raised her arms with the hood. The rubber tips dangled and swayed above the pavement with her movement.
The woman was brunette, with raven-black hair, well-coiffed and shoulder-length. She was pretty, though showing her age slightly in the lines of her face. Other than her atrophied leg her figure was nearly perfect with a thin abdomen and pert, firm breasts. Her right leg was actually rather shapely. The image Paul drew as he approached was of a monied lady who had probably had polio. As he slowed his car he could feel hormones flooding his body and the old passion for handicapped women ignited anew. He knew he had no choice but to stop and offer to help. In fact, he would have done so no matter who it was. But this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to help a disabled damsel-in-distress and he eagerly pulled the Mercedes over behind her car.
Paul exited his car as the brunette placed her crutches on the ground and began to maneuver herself back toward the driver's door. She walked by first extending the crutches in tandem and leaning into them as she placed some weight on the short left leg and stepped normally with her right leg. She then leaned right and swung the crippled leg in a semi-circular motion until it reached its mate. Then straightening, she repeated the process. It was an awkward walk and did not seem to fit her elegant persona. Paul preferred a full swing-through gait in the women he had admired all his life, and he found himself vaguely wishing this woman used her crutches that way. But, catching and reviling himself for such thinking, he called to the woman.
"Can I help?" he ventured, trying to sound as normal as possible.
"Damn thing died on me again," she returned. "I've had this car in the shop twice for this same thing. They obviously don't know what the problem really is, although they're certainly charging me to get it wrong." She was fuming now.
"Did you just now break down?" Paul asked.
"No. In fact, I've been sitting here for over 45 minutes hoping a policeman might come by or something. I just now decided to get out and raise the hood. I guess that was the right thing to do. Thanks for stopping."
"You don't have a cell phone?"
"I have one and I normally never go anywhere without it. But this day—of all days—I left it home. Not very smart of a crippled girl, now is it?"
Paul felt another surge of excitement simply at her use of the word "crippled." It was a politically-incorrect term these days that perfectly described the women he was so attracted to. In spite of himself he began to think about how he could maximize his time with this lovely thing.
"Can I call Triple-A for you? Or, do you need a lift?" He blushed slightly as he realized the unintended double-entendre of his question. She didn't seem to notice. "I'd be delighted to take you anywhere you need to go."
"I was supposed to be at a luncheon with some girlfriends. I was already over 30 minutes late and I've been here for almost an hour. But, if you could take me to the restaurant where we were meeting I might be able to get a ride with one of them back home. I'll call my garage to go get the car later."
"Sure, no problem. I'd lock your car if I were you. And...I'll put the hood back down for you." Paul was sliding easily into the role of Sir Galahad. "I'm Paul Adams, by the way. What's your name?"
"Andrea Mead." And thank you so much for stopping to help. Andrea Mead was making her way slowly to Paul's car as he pushed the Cadillac's hood down. She was holding her keys and turned momentarily to aim the keyless remote at her car to lock it.
Paul tried not to stare as she first opened the back door of his car and placed her crutches on the floorboard. She closed the door and took two small steps to the passenger door, lurching heavily to the left without support. After opening the door she plunked herself down and sat facing outward, then turned and lifted her thin left leg into the car with both hands. Andrea then brought the other leg in and closed the door.
By this time Paul was in the driver's seat once again and waited patiently while Andrea closed the door and put on her seatbelt.
"Quite a process, huh?" she said with a smile.
Paul took a breath and decided to be as frank as she seemed to be.
"Did you have polio?" he asked, trying to sound simply curious.
"Oh, yes. A gimpy girl since I was three. That's the last time my legs were the same length. I used to walk without the crutches when I was in my teens and twenties, but I screwed my back up in the process and have been back on the sticks ever since."
"You don't like to use a wheelchair?"
"Hate 'em. Always have. I worked hard to learn to walk at all, and as long as I can, I will. Now...let me give you directions to the restaurant." And she proceeded to guide Paul across town.
The two rode in silence for a while. Paul was fighting to keep his composure. He had never been this close to a disabled woman before and he was wildly excited. He had an erection that continued to strain every time he stole a glance at the short leg in the big shoe. He marveled at how the little leg supported Andrea at all; it didn't seem to be much bigger around than a normal arm. Yet she didn't wear a brace. Amazing, he thought.
The day had started cloudy and it began to sprinkle as they drove. Then, upon approaching the restaurant it began to rain in earnest.
"I'm sorry, but I don't have an umbrella," said Paul.
"Don't worry about it, I'll make a run for it when you park."
Paul stopped the car as close to the door as he could. He then went around to the passenger side of the car and retrieved Andrea's crutches as she lifted her leg out of the car. She slipped the cuffs onto her arms and, to Paul's astonishment and delight, broke into a full swing-through gait and made her way into the Italian eatery quite quickly to escape the rain. She put no weight on her short leg in this mode; it just seemed to be "along for the ride." Paul hoped he could hide his reaction and jammed his hands into his pockets. This was some woman, he thought!
His thoughts shifted momentarily to Lorna and the wonderful gift she had given him this morning. He suddenly felt guilty because of his attraction to Andrea. Lorna knew of his fetish for crippled women but had not been able to discuss it openly with him. The one time he had surfaced it she seemed to be baffled by his admission and he never brought it up again. Worse, she had once admonished him for "looking perverted" when she caught him staring at a polio woman walking on crutches through a shopping mall.
That had been over 20 years ago. Since then Paul had had to satisfy himself with a collection of photos of disabled women he had started when he was a teenager and occasionally added to over the years. In the late '90's, the internet had introduced him to other men who shared his rare fetish and who provided their own picture collections online. Lorna knew nothing of these activities.
Paul winced at the thought of how his wife would feel about his current situation. Nonetheless he followed Andrea into the restaurant and as she looked around he heard her mutter, "Damn. They're already gone. I'll bet they wonder what the hell happened to me."
"I'm sorry, Andrea. I'll be glad to take you home," offered Paul.
"You know, I'm hungry and frankly I could use a drink after all this. And you've been wonderful to help so much. Please let me treat you to lunch."
Paul protested weakly. At least he hoped it sounded weak because he wanted nothing more than to spend time with Andrea. Fortunately for him she refused to take "no" for an answer and asked the hostess for a table. Paul watched the stolen glances as Andrea made her way across the room. He was thrilled to be with such a fabulous female and his guilty feelings were melting quickly.
At the table Andrea ordered a vodka and soda; Paul decided to have a scotch-on-the-rocks. The two toasted and drank and launched into an animated conversation about everything. Paul learned that Andrea was divorced and had no children. That she worked part-time as an art teacher at a local college. That the part-time employment was for fun because she had been provided a handsome settlement in divorce court. That she liked to drink. The two had another round, then another. Andrea ordered a fourth drink but Paul demurred out of a sense of responsibility and fear of a potential DUI. After an hour they left for Andrea's home.
The neighborhood was beautiful and the house was palatial. Andrea poured two more drinks and invited Paul to sit on the couch next to her. She then stunned and thrilled him with her next question.
" Paul, would you massage my little leg and foot for me? It gets so strained and tired and a little massage makes all the difference." She was already unlacing the built-up shoe and Paul reached over to help pull it off her foot. He marveled at the nylon tiny foot that drooped so her toes reached just below the calf of her right leg. He reveled in taking this leg and foot lovingly in his hands and massaging them for her.
"What do you think of that poor little thing?" asked Andrea.
"I think it's wonderful. Absolutely wonderful." The alcohol was blurring Paul's normal lines of inhibition badly. "May I kiss it?"
"You want to kiss my leg?" asked Andrea with a giggle.
"Yes. And, if you don't mind, I'd love to suck your toes, too."
Andrea seemed astonished. "Go ahead. Permission granted."
With that, Paul kissed Andrea's atrophied leg passionately and easily got all the toes of her miniature foot in his mouth. She moaned with pleasure." I've never had anyone suck my toes before. And I never thought anyone would want to suck those bad toes! "She lay back on the sofa to allow him more opportunity to explore. All the pent-up sexual energy from a year of mourning roared to life and Paul found himself caressing, kissing, and undressing Andrea.
"Let's go to the bedroom. Now." She commanded rather than suggested. Andrea was naked now, except her panties, sexy garter belt and nude stockings . She retrieved her crutches from the floor and Paul almost gasped as he watched her swing herself to the bedroom, her short leg flopping and bouncing freely as she went. She was a vision of incredible beauty to Paul.
Paul undressed quickly. Andrea stood on her good leg and hugged him, reaching down to massage his straining manhood. The two kissed deeply and Paul took the initiative to pick her up and place her on the king-size bed.
Their lovemaking was rawer, stronger, and more spontaneous than anything Paul had ever experienced. Andrea was fundamentally a very attractive woman but it was her leg, her crutches, her crippledness, that drove Paul's frenzy. And she seemed to know. She encouraged him to touch, caress, and kiss her little leg and foot.
After two hours of lovemaking Paul collapsed into deep sleep.
He did not awaken until after 6PM. Andrea was not in bed, nor was she to be found once he got dressed and began to search for her. There was no note, no obvious explanation for her absence. He was perplexed and he waited a half hour in the living room, hoping she would return. He left when she did not, feeling abandoned and greatly disappointed. Upon leaving the stately home he noticed to his surprise the name "Richardson" engraved in the brass door knocker. Andrea had said her surname was Mead. He shrugged to himself, thinking perhaps she had reverted to her maiden name upon her divorce.
Paul returned home and found himself hoping Andrea would somehow contact him, although he knew she didn't know either his address or phone number. He resolved to return to her house the next day. Sleep did not come easily as he tossed and turned thinking first about Andrea, then about what Lorna would have thought. After all, Andrea was the first woman Paul had bedded other than his deceased wife in over 35 years.
Paul awoke with a start to his doorbell. He arose, put on a bathrobe, and quickly made his way to the front door. Two men and his newly-acquired bookcase were on the porch. He had them bring the piece in and place it in his den.
As they left one delivery man turned and said, "Becky Richardson said to tell you to check under the top shelf. There's an envelope there for you." Paul closed the door and went quickly to his hand-crafted prize to see what might be there. Sure enough, an envelope was taped under the shelf. It said simply, " Paul" on the front. Lorna's handwriting again, he realized. He opened it and unfolded a much longer note than her first.
Dearest Darling,
If you are reading this all has gone according to plan. In addition to the bookcase, I arranged for another gift for you. Paul, I am so sorry I was never able to respond to you sexually as you needed me to. Years ago when you confided that you were attracted to disabled women I was initially revolted. That feeling mellowed over time as I occasionally witnessed you admiring women wearing braces and walking on crutches. But I had no idea how strong the attraction was until I stumbled on your most personal box of photographs. I am so sorry, darling; I did not mean to pry. And then later I became aware of some of the websites you discovered. I felt horribly guilty that I could not respond as you needed me to—with acceptance and understanding.
I met Andrea through Create-A-Dream Foundation. She was a volunteer and we worked on a couple of projects together. At first I was determined to make sure you never met her, but when I was diagnosed with terminal cancer I decided to approach her with an idea. Paul, Andrea was very understanding about your fetish and she agreed to create YOUR "dream" upon the first anniversary of my death. The whole thing was actually orchestrated by Becky at the antique shop. She's Andrea's sister and she started the ball rolling yesterday by notifying Andrea when you came to the shop. Please don't be angry that the whole thing was staged...it was done out of my love for you.
I hope you had a wonderful time with Andrea...she's a wonderful woman. But the agreement was that the decision whether to continue the relationship must be hers alone. To protect her, you spent the afternoon at Becky's house, not Andrea's. She left you because our agreement was she would take time after the encounter to consider all aspects of the situation. Andrea promised me that she would not "lead you on" unless she was sincerely interested in you. Likewise, I ask that you not continue the relationship with her unless you are interested in more than just the sexual aspect of it. Paul, I hope your "dream" was an incredible experience. Again, please know that I did this in love and out of a sense of wifely duty. I had to try and ensure you had a chance to find the fulfillment I could never provide. This was the best gift I could give.
All my love always, Lorna
As Paul reflected on the note the phone began ringing. He couldn't bring himself to answer it because tears were flooding down his cheeks and he was overwhelmed with emotion. After five rings the answering machine picked up and a voice he knew instantly said plaintively, " Paul...are you there? It's Andrea. I need to see you again soon..."
最后才解开题目啊:lol
normalren 发表于 2019-8-12 07:54
最后才解开题目啊
挺耐人寻味的一篇文;P
啊，感谢楼主
翻译的越来越好