Rope and Veil

This is the third chapter of my story of Amelia and Alex. If you have just stumbled across this story cycle for the first time, please read Parts 1 and 2 first.

*****

"Alex, can you take time off next week? I've a long session booked at the clinic and it'd be useful if you came along. Save me having to repeat myself after, if you hear it too."

"Sure, what day?"

We were pretty certain we knew when Amelia had conceived, sometime during those weeks she went surfing. That made sense, our passion rode high during those days, what with the long ocean waves and the moving encounter with the old woman, her blindness and delicate touch. Sam too, and me. Amelia's men.

Amelia was always well tuned to what her body told her, she had to be; but somehow, I don't know, after those days she was even more focused and intense. Nights especially, she craved closeness and touch, and often during the night I would wake and find her head on my chest, her ear over my heart, and her hands cupping my soft cock and balls. She'd be fast asleep, but every now and then her arms and upper body would twitch and she'd sigh and shift in the bed. I was afraid to move, for fear of waking her. Her legs and feet were always still, but I would reach down to make sure they were warm.

I often asked myself, as she slept, "can we do this, Amelia?" I wasn't sure. A child? I sure as hell didn't know what the fuck I was doing. I hoped someone did, because Amelia hadn't done this before, either. She'd bluff her way through if she had to, I knew that, but good advice would be handy.

As it turned out, Mary the clinic nurse was a no nonsense midwife who didn't put up with precious women.

"Right, you girls are all here for one thing. You gotta learn that a baby is full of shit and piss and vomit, you're gonna get it all over you. Some days, you gonna be the same. Who here gets morning sickness? You got a head start, if you do."

"Tell me about it," one woman said, "I call it travel sickness. Every time I get up and move about, my gut churns. Jesus, it's terrible."

Amelia was lucky. Other than a few mornings, she had avoided sickness, and she was coming up for twelve weeks, a little extra roundness starting to show in her belly.

"You just won't believe what mix of foods some of you girls are going to crave," Mary added. "I've seen it all. I sure wouldn't eat some of it!"

"And you, honey," she said, looking at Amelia, "you got some extra things to look out for. When we're done here, I'll introduce you to Kara. She knows what she's talking about. We'll look after you."

Just from the way she spoke to these women, who would be her girls for the next six or seven months, I sensed a big heart behind Mary's big breasts.

"And I see you've brought someone along who had something to do with you being here." Mary looked at me, and why did I sense that her jury was out when it came to me? Perhaps she waited a while to get a measure of all the men who came along to her clinics. At least I was there.

"No, Alex is good, he does just fine." Amelia quickly jumped to my defence. "He does his best, anyway."

Ah me, the way Amelia looks at me when she teases me, when she says she loves me in her round-about way.

"We'll see," said Mary. And she winked at me, a laugh in her eyes, and I knew I'd taken my first step with her. The first of many, I thought, but who better to walk steps for. My Amelia.

Even as I thought that thought, I looked across at Amelia. Fuck me, there's her eyebrow, ever so slightly raised - your Amelia, Alex? I don't think so! She always knows what I'm thinking. I raised my brow in return. She smiled at my response, laugh lines spreading from her eyes. Even when she's tense, Amelia's eyes soften and she's beautiful.

So now I have to cope with two tough women. Three tough women later on, because I knew Amelia's mum Carolyn would come out from England to help. And knowing my luck the next nurse or therapist, whoever she was, Kara, would also take no prisoners. I was starting to feel superfluous here, seriously unqualified. What is it about women, that sometimes they don't need men?

Ah, so that's why Mary said Kara would know what she was talking about. The therapist moved into the room in her own wheelchair, her face framed by a mane of russet red hair, twisted high on her head in a coil. She reached across to Amelia, touching her arm in greeting.

"Hi, I'm Kara. You must be Amelia."

"Hello, yes, that's me. The pregnant Amelia. That one." As if to say, there are many more Amelias, but just this one, the pregnant one, here today.

Kara turned to me, her green eyes startling in their intensity.

"Hello, I'm Alex," I said, introducing myself. "I'm with Amelia." That was unnecessary; but then, at this point, so was I.

Kara quickly got down to business, and I learned about autonomic dysreflexia for the first time. Fuck, I didn't like any of those words and what they meant. I paid attention, I really did. In my way of trying to understand it all, I reduced it to mean jumbled reflexes with no feedback mechanism, where an irritation below the point of spinal damage could trigger a nervous response that the brain couldn't control. Amelia would have no control if something went wrong? Life threatening? Fuck that.

Driving back home, she was quiet.

"Did you know about the autonomic dysreflexia thing?" I asked, worried about her response.

"Yes. It's something they told me about, back in the spinal unit. The thought of being pregnant, and possible complications, was light year's away from me back then. But they told me what to watch out for, as it can happen any time. Kara's just reinforced it, how it's a risk for a pregnant woman like me."

Amelia turned to me. "It's OK, I can handle it. You know about it now, too. But for fuck's sake, you're not to treat me like I'm a broken doll. I'm not. Plenty of women get complications through a pregnancy. This is just a special one, for when you've got a fucked up spine like mine."

"There's a big risk, though, isn't there, of shit going seriously wrong?"

"Yes. Yes, there is. It's a risk." Amelia reached over and ran her fingers down my cheek, touching them to my lips. "It's why I had to be sure."

"Sure of what?"

"You, Alex. I had to be sure of you. I can't do this by myself."

***

Amelia beguiles me. She's put her hooks in, and I'm bound to her.

My first binding, it seems long ago now, was the day she revealed her ropes to me, her luscious breasts, her scarred legs, and the power of her will. When she unravelled her ropes and enticed me onto her body, my come spilling onto her belly because she could feel my length there and my heat, I began a new learning of a woman's body. Amelia was gentle with me, patient, as I began to navigate her world.

Slowly I've learned the places on her body where her feeling begins and where it ends. If I was a cartographer I might have mapped the curious coast line that surrounds her, but after a time there was no need. I knew her flesh like the back of my hand. Or I thought I did, until Amelia's shape slowly started to change, new curves forming as the baby quickened.

As the weather grows a little cooler we settle into a new night-time routine. I get myself done in the bathroom, brush my teeth, take a piss, and then slide into the cold bed first.

"Alex, I'm a pregnant woman. I'm delicate and precious. I can't be expected to get into a cold bed. Warm it up for me, my darling."

"The fuck you are. Just get yourself sorted in the bathroom, and haul your ass in here."

"But Alex, I get so cold."

I don't believe her, but of course I do it, knowing how she loves to slide into a warm bed and have my body wrap around hers. Amelia always wears pajama bottoms and socks to keep her legs and feet snug, even though she can't feel them. I can feel them, and always make sure they're warm. I heat up her side of the bed, then move to my cold side as she slides herself into the room. As I shiver (the sheets are cold) I love her.

Amelia's breasts are bare when she comes to our bed, because that's where her heat is. As the air cools her nipples harden and my eyes widen at the sight of them. Then my eyes narrow, my gaze is intense and her nipples are hard. It's a race to see whose hands get to them first, hers or mine. If Amelia's palms are on her flesh, it's my fingers that lace over the back of her hand and thread between her fingers, eager for the softest touch of breast and the hard tip of nipple, rolled between her fingers.

If it's my hand that cups her breast first, her smaller palm holds my hand to her heart, and her other hand reaches for the back of my head and her fingers run through my hair. Amelia pulls my head towards hers, and we kiss. Our first kiss is always slow and soft and gentle, full of wonder, it's always a reminder of our very first kiss. We don't believe each other, that the other is real, and our slow kisses are proof. It's as if we're young, just teenagers, always in our first wonder at each other.

"Oh Alex," Amelia sighs, "is it you?"

Is it me? Sometimes I feel strange and disembodied, as if I'm seeing us both from a distance, through a veil, a darkness. Reality shifts, and Amelia is in the bed and I am behind her, spooning her body. My cock is already hard at the thought of her.

With an earlier woman I would have placed my cock between a clench of thighs, and her pussy would have heated and wet my shaft. An earlier woman would have sunk her cunt down onto my cock, but Amelia can't do that. She needs the heat and length of my cock hard against her back, against her skin. She feels me there and gently pushes her body back against mine.

She lies on her side, and I have one arm under her neck, my bicep a pillow for her cheek. My left hand is outstretched, and Amelia holds it, her fingers laced between mine. My other hand is cupped and her breast fills it. I love its weight and the impossible softness of her skin. My lips touch her neck and her fingers grip.

"Amelia."

"Yes, Alex? What is it?"

"Nothing. I just like saying your name. Amelia. It's always you."

"There's three of us now, Alex. Can we do this?"

"Of course we can, lovely girl." My lips are soft, my voice is softer. "Of course we can. We're Amelia and Alex, and a tiny one." It's a song, our lover's song.

We lie together like this for a long time, my hand gently pressing against Amelia's breast and nipple, occasionally stroking a fall of hair from her cheek. My heat is along her spine, but there is no urgency. Some nights, we fall asleep like this, Amelia and I, soft and slow.

My hand drops to the little mound of her belly, which is beginning to swell, a new shape for my hands to learn.

"What's it like?" I ask, "your body changing?"

"No different, I can't feel anything noticeable, not yet anyway."

"You're fining down, I think. Some parts of you seem thinner. Your little belly mound though, it's gorgeous. See, it fits my hand, perfectly."

Amelia holds my hand to her belly, resting our touch there for a moment. Then she takes my hand lower, placing it between her legs. Even though she cannot feel my touch within her sex, her fingers follow mine as I slowly stroke her softness. I don't try to press between her lips, it's just a delight to feel her petals, her delicate skin. It's so soft, and our fingers touch her centre together.

"My skin there, Alex, it's so smooth. My fingers feel me just as you would. It's the same softness as the head of your cock, and your lips. My cunt lips are like velvet."

My cock pushes against Amelia's back as she talks of her cunt, the idea of her sex always tightens my arousal. She arches her back against me, in recognition of my response, but doesn't change the slow slide of her touch alongside my fingers. I cup her sex, the palm of my hand against her mons and my fingers curling over her lips. Her hand covers the back of my hand, holding me to her quiet centre. Sometimes, too, we sleep like this, my hand covering her silence.

Amelia shifts onto her belly, stretching her arms above her head, taking my hands with them, stretching me out long behind her. When she does this no words need to be said, usually, but tonight she whispers, "cover me, let me feel your weight upon me."

I lie on her, my cock hot and hard against her back. Reaching back, I separate her legs just a little so there's a small gap between her thighs, and her ass is exposed. She can't feel my balls there but I'm aware of her heat. My cock rides the crease of her ass cheeks, and she feels the heat of my shaft on the lower part of her back. I lower the weight of my chest to her body, and once again stretch my hands out to find hers.

"Fuck my back slowly, Alex, let me feel your wetness on my back, when you come."

We are reversed, Amelia and I. I bring my wetness to her, when I spill my seed on her skin. We've learned to judge the pressure between us, and I slide, slide upon her skin, my cock shifting between us up and down her back, up and down. Amelia whispers and sighs, her soft songs weaving endearments and enticements into my mind. She urges me higher up her back, and I sweep above her, my cock stroking long lines of heat between us. I arch my back and my chest loses contact with her body.

"No, don't leave, come back darling boy, come back."

Amelia turns her head to the side and her cheek is flushed and her lips are full, slightly parted. They're so luscious, I have to kiss them and suck them into my mouth, they're like berries, sweet fruit.

I'm fucking her back long and hard now, and a heat is filling my balls, I feel them from deep inside me, as if they are swelling. Oh fuck, Amelia, feel me slide over you, feel my long heat, my long thrusts the whole length of your back. Feel me now.

"Ah Alex, that's it, that's it, your cock's on my skin, so hot, so hard. Fuck me, beautiful man, fuck me, let me feel your bursts, your wetness. That's it, nearly there, nearly there, oh fuck, so close, I can feel you, so close, closer baby, nearly there. Oh fuck yes, Alex, fuck me fuck me, my back, my skin. Oh soon, baby, soon."

Fuck, Amelia's voice urges me on, she's pulling long streams of come from deep in my spine, just her voice, her song, her cry. I'm urgent now, so close.

"Yes, that's it, so close, so hot. Fuck me long, Alex, so long, so hot."

Her voice catches as she senses the urgency of my sweeping cock, longer, harder strokes on her skin, ah Christ, and my back arches.

"Yes, my beauty, there it is, there it is, come for me Alex, come for me. Fuck me now, lovely man, my boy, let me feel you spill all over my back. More, God, more. That's it, baby, all wet and hot between us. Ah, Alex, there it is, all of your cream, just for me."

With a long moan, I jet come between us, hot and wet and creamy between the skin of my belly and the flesh of her back, my cock throbbing to the sound of her voice. Amelia's low, sexy voice whispering songs of love and crooning gospels of lust between us, and we feel my wetness between us.

I fall to my side, still behind her, and take a long scoop of our cream between my fingers. I reach down to her belly, and spread our wetness there, on the little curve that is our baby. Amelia holds my hand to her belly.

"Goodness me, Alex, you're wet tonight, does my swelling belly turn you on?"

"Your belly, Amelia, your tits, your back, your cunt. Your mouth. Your eyes, every fucking part of you. Fuck woman, yes, you turn me on."

Amelia takes my fingers, my sticky fingers, in hers, and puts them to her lips. She kisses them, and takes the taste of me into her mouth.

"I love to taste your wetness, Alex, so nice. Your sweet come, just for me."

***

Amelia's cut her beloved hair, her red and rainbow coloured hair, cut it really short so the shape of her skull shows. Her hair is so short some of the scars on her skull ripple, the scars she usually hides.

"Why, Amelia, why have you cut it, your hair, your colours?"

"I'm changing, Alex. Everything's changing. Keep up, lovely man, haven't you noticed?"

"Well yes, I've noticed one or two things different about you, recently."

I play our games, her teasing me, me seeing her changes, me not seeing them. I catch her mood changes like a ball, casually tossed but sometimes thrown really hard. I've not dropped it, yet. I probably will, I guess, but for now I'm nimble fingered, quick enough not to let her drop.

"Are you going to grow it out, do you think?"

"Yes, I think I will. I might even find out what my natural hair colour is. It's been a long time since I've seen that, that's for sure!"

"How long does it grow? I've seen it coil down over your breast, but not longer than that."

"What's this, Alex? You getting a thing for girls with long hair? That red head at the clinic, she do it for you?"

Actually, I was thinking back to the girl I lost my virginity with. Her hair was so long she could sit on it. Best not tell Amelia that, though, I'm not so sure how she'd take that, my distant past when I travelled without her.

"If I do get a thing going for Rapunzel, I'll just have to wait for you, won't I? Your hair to grow long, I mean."

Amelia looks good, really good right now. It's as if she's paring herself back to her own natural self. She's getting a healthy bloom that some pregnant women get, when they just glow. Her breasts are fuller, firmer, and her cleavage divine. She's taken to wearing low cut blouses and tops, her breasts high and full.

"If I've got it, I might as well flaunt it," she said, looking up at me as I walk beside her. I'm shameless, looking down her cleavage as she wheels herself along. I remember the spin and turn of her wheelchair, that first day I met her, and I smile at the memory of her words. Going down, going down all the way? I guess the answer to that is yes. Just as well she fell with me. I think I'd have crashed without her. I don't know if I catch her or if she catches me.

Amelia's got an aura about her. People notice her glow, her pregnant radiance. She flaunts it. Women her own age see her belly, swelling now, fuller. It's obvious, even when she's sitting in her wheelchair, and Amelia smiles when she sees their double take, when the watching women fully register she's in a wheelchair.

Men see her too, and they're confused. They see the sexiness in her, and their eyes narrow as they look at me, and it's alpha male stuff. Their confusion shows. Wait, she can't be sexy, she's in a wheelchair; doesn't really short hair mean she's butch, or it's cancer or something? I stare them down - yes mate, you saw right the first time. Her tits really are that gorgeous, those really are her curves. She really is hot and sexy, she just can't walk. But she's not for you, pal. Oh no, this woman's mine.

Old women see her properly, and little girls are wide eyed and shy. The older women smile at us, and can see that the babe will be a good looking child, and they see our love for each other. Amelia might pretend but she can't hide it. I see her softness for me, and the old women see it too. Mothers don't stop loving their sons, and they recognise the look a girl gives her favourite boy. The same look a woman gives her man. The look Amelia gives me.

The little girls grab their mother's hands and whisper up at mummy. It's as if they can see the hormones surging around Amelia, swirling on the breeze. They look back, to see Amelia one more time.

We stop at a cafe, and I queue at the counter to order while Amelia goes to a table. As I wait in the line, I look across at her and my heart melts. God, she is beautiful, and I gaze at her. She's still, absorbed in her world, and fuck, I'm smitten, stupid, taken.

"Sir, your order?" The coffee girl interrupts my thoughts, sees me dreaming. She follows my gaze and sees Amelia. "Sir?"