I entered the house quietly, and found my lover sound asleep on the couch, a frown creasing his brow. Of course, he'd worried about me. I knew he would. If I could've spared him that, I certainly would've. I positioned myself beside him carefully, so he'd get the full effect, then bent down and shook his shoulder to waken him. "Hey, Babe!" I called softly.

His blue eyes flickered a few times, and he sat up with a startled gasp. "Oh, my God!" he exclaimed. "What have you done to yourself?"

"Broke my legs," I said. I moved to the other end of the sofa and sat down heavily, and with my hands I lifted first one leg, and then the other, and rested my feet on the coffee table, displaying the casts. The lady had done an excellent job fixing me up. The plaster was thick, heavy, and sexy, and my lover was staring. Somewhere between dismay and attraction, I thought.

"How on earth -- ?"

"I fell asleep at the keyboard, and when I woke up I thought I'd head right home, but - " I attempted a sheepish grin. "I slipped and fell down the subway stairs. Couldn't stop myself, and then there I was at the bottom, with my legs all twisted up under me."

"How long will you be in the casts?"

"They didn't say, exactly. Probably six to eight weeks. The fractures weren't too bad, but there  are several, and they've got to be immobilized. These are walking casts, though, so I'll still be able to get around and help you out."

"Oh, no," my man protested. "You're in worse shape than I am now, and I'm putting you to bed!"

"All right," I agreed meekly. "Just let me hit the bathroom first."

"You need help?"

I shook my head, and hoped it was true! No need to fear, though. I handled my business just fine, gave my family jewels and my ass the once-over to make sure no traces of grease remained, and crutched into the bedroom, where he was waiting for me. I eased myself onto the bed and dragged my heavy legs up, overdoing the exerted panting just a wee bit for effect. He propped my legs up on pillows and patted one of my knees.

"There! You'll do now, won't you?"

"Mmm," I answered sweetly.

"Are you in pain?"

"Not really."

"But you will be, before much longer."

"Maybe. They told me I could just take Tylenol."

"Didn't they give you a prescription for anything stronger?"

I shook my head. "They assured me I wouldn't need it."

"Idiots!" my man pronounced, disgustedly. "Well, if worse comes to worse and you can't stand it, I have some pain meds left over from the last surgery, and I'm perfectly willing to share."

"Thanks, Babe."

He settled himself on the bed beside me, his casted leg stretched out awkwardly, and he stroked my hair, which, thank God, had been washed free of all traces of plaster. "I'm so sorry about your legs, Love. Of all the rotten luck, and talk about bad timing! Have you thought about how we're going to get food into the house, or laundry done?"

"I'll hire a maid," I said, "or a houseboy, if you prefer."

He laughed, bent down and kissed my lips. "You're all the houseboy I need, don't you know that?"

"You still love me, then?"

"Fool! Of course I do!"

"And do you think I'm sexy, even with my casts?" I asked, leading him.

"Oh,  very sexy! You could probably pull  that off, even if you were in a full body cast."

'Hot damn!' I thought.  'You should've seen me a few hours ago!'  But I had the wisdom to keep my mouth shut. Maybe, if I played my cards right, we could have a lot of fun with plaster sometime in the not-so-distant future. "I think you're real sexy with yours," I said, a little shyly. "Especially now that they took off that horrible toe contraption."

"Yes, that was quite a sight, wasn't it?" He turned slightly, lay back flat on the pillows. "The cast doesn't bother me much now. I'm pretty well used to it. Pity there's another operation coming, though."

"Just one more," I reminded him, but I didn't think it was such an awful prospect as I envisioned him in traction again.

"Yes," he said, and went on as if he'd read my mind. "Then traction for four weeks, and my leg in plaster for two months." He sighed. "Such a long time, and I still don't know exactly how it's all going to turn out."

"Whatever happens, you'll still be you, and I'll still love you madly. In fact, I wouldn't mind loving you madly right now."

He laughed, and I could tell he thought I was joking.

"No, really," I insisted. My legs don't hurt that much, and there'd be nothing like a good fuck to take my mind off it."

His smile cranked down a few notches.

"I thought you said I was sexy in my casts." I turned slightly, displaying them at a better angle, and his eyes traveled up the length of them to where they disappeared into my cut-offs.

"How far up do they go?" he asked.

"Wanna see?"

He swallowed a couple of times, still staring at my legs. "Yeah," he said finally.

I unbuttoned my fly slowly, teasing him, and somehow managed to push my Levi's and jockey shorts down. Then I sat up and tugged them from my ankles, threw them on the floor and lay back. The casts were a mere inch or two short of my crotch, and I felt his hand rest on the top of one. Or rather, I felt his fingers near my sex and looked down to see that the palm of his hand rested on the cast. "Am I still sexy?" I asked.

"Oh, God!" he said softly.

"Turns you on, doesn't it?"

He drew a really deep breath and ran his hand over my plaster thigh. "I can't get over how fucking gorgeous you look right now!"

"How do you want me?" I asked. "Buns up?"

He nodded vigorously.

I removed my flannel shirt, then turned myself over, struggling far more than I needed to, and presented the twin globes of my butt. His hand ran over them, and touched the tops of my casts. I felt his lips move over my back, his tongue snaking out, licking me along the length of my spine as he shifted to get closer to my hole. He planted a love bite on each cheek, then started to rim me, nice and slow, loosening me up for the coming assault. He liked to be ridden rough and hard, himself, and so did I. We suited each other well that way.

The rimming juiced me up nicely, and he took a moment to lubricate himself with his own pre-cum, as he always did. Neither of us liked using grease when we had our own natural fluids available in such abundance. He straddled me clumsily and somehow managed to get in, but our casts made it a kind of comedy of errors, and he collapsed flat on my back, laughing, his sex still wonderfully hard within me, but not moving.

"Move real slow," I suggested. "Use some hip action and don't worry about the hard and fast stuff."

"O.K."

I must say, he got the hang of it real quick, and it took him forever to climax, since he couldn't move as fast as he would've liked to. I put my hands under me and caressed my cock, and felt my arms brush against the casts. Somehow, I still couldn't believe I'd actually done such a daring thing. Gone out and gotten both of my unbroken legs so completely and beautifully plastered. And the adventure with the cast lady! Well, it was something I felt a little disloyal recalling in that moment, but I had the memory, anyway, and I would always remember the way I felt in that body cast, especially after she'd extended it to cover my head. The thought of that totally helpless state of being made me feel weak with desire.  'Yes,' I assured myself.  'I'll gladly let her cast me again, and maybe, maybe I can do it for him. Let him see me like that and just do me, and do me, and do me!'

My lover and I must've fucked a dozen times that first day, and in between sessions, while we rested, we massaged each other and admired the casts. Mine were good, but his was perfect. Nicely-molded, with no rubber heel to detract from its pure lines. Still gleaming white and unblemished. As mine were and would remain. I wished I'd only gotten one walking heel, though, so I could crutch around with one leg off the ground, like my lover did. I should have asked my new friend to leave it off the left leg, and he and I would've been symmetrically opposed.

Maybe it was a dumb thing, but it was so much fun being laid up with him, I did end up wearing my casts for the full six weeks. It was a pain taking time off from work and school, but no one contested it once they saw me up to my hips in plaster. My legs were obviously broken. What else could I do but stay home and heal myself?

My lover hasn't figured out that I faked it, by the way, especially since I'm still hobbling around on crutches. My "doctor" advised me to for a couple of weeks, just to make it look good! And I  am still a little weak from being immobilized for so long. All the same, I wish I'd had the nerve to keep those casts on for two more weeks!

And in the future? Well, who knows? My lover is having surgery again in a few weeks, and we'll certainly "play" a bit while he's stuck in the hospital with his leg in traction. Then he'll be home again, sporting a new cast, and when that's gone, he gets his leg brace and his walking papers, if you will! Whatever. He's still my man, and he's still beautiful and sexy, cast or no.

I wonder, does he miss seeing me in mine? Should I plan to be accident-prone for the rest of my life, just to amuse us both?

Hmm. I can almost see the next disaster coming! Another bad fall. Both arms broken. Or, better still, a shoulder! Then I could have a truly confining cast experience while still being able to walk and use my one good hand!

My "doctor" actually put me in a shoulder spica, with a stabilizer bar and everything, just for a lark, the day she took off my leg casts. It was fiberglass. Lightweight and colorful, but nowhere near as sexy as good, old-fashioned, white plaster. I wore it for four hours, though, and liked the shape and feel of it. Had no trouble imagining it in a plaster version, and me wrapped up snugly inside of it, telling anyone who would listen about the pain in my fractured shoulder, just to disguise my true contentment! And maybe I could have a broken wrist on the other side, too. Nothing fancy, just a short cast, with no thumb involvement, and I could even put it in a sling.