The friend, 30-ish, was definitely masculine-lesbian in appearance: close cropped dusky hair and a very hard, bitchy expression, which only changed when gasing into the eyes of the object of her devotion.

The latter was getting alarmingly rounded (boobs the size of footballs) and wore heavy black-framed glasses. She walked on forearm crutches. On the beach, she wore a one-piece swimsuit with the addition of a towel wrapped around her waist to cover the stump. This disguise wasn't very efficient, and I got more than an occasional fascinating glimpse of a scarred and flabby piece of flesh which seemed to be constantly twitching.

My then-wife, who knew (but disapproved) of my devoteeism was in a bad mood throughout the holiday. I knew why, but didn't dare raise the subject. She finally let it out of the bag: she was jealous of me looking at 'the two dykes with the three legs'...