All characters engaging in sexual congress within this story are at least 18 years old or older at the time that it happens. This is an original work of fiction, Copyright 2023 © by Christian Brooks. The author reserves all rights. This work is not to be published or reproduced without the author's express consent. Any references to actual people living or dead is purely coincidental. Literotica.com is granted limited license to publish this work under their own rules and guidelines that are available for viewing on their website.
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I wake and it's past 10 am. After I drain the morning dew, I decide to crawl back into bed to relax. It was a magnificent night, and I lay there pondering it. Recalling seeing Amelia the way I did and the things I did to Jenny. It was a really delightful night.
I hear the door sound that means Amelia entered my home. I contemplate getting up, but figure she'll check in here for me. A moment later, I'm staring at the ceiling as I hear her enter.
"Logan, please look at me."
I shift in bed, leaning on one arm to see Amelia standing near me at the side of my bed. She is wearing shorts and has a button up white shirt, hanging open with nothing under it. She looks sexy as hell, except for her facial expression, and that tells me she is frightened. "Amelia, what's going on?"
She steadies herself, then opens the shirt, exposing her luscious breasts. "Logan, last night I stopped you and I shouldn't have. Please suck on my breasts."
As tempted, oh so tempted, as I am, something is wrong and I cannot let it go. This isn't some gesture of passion, but one of guilt and something else I cannot place. I sit up facing her, and reach out to put my arms around her. Then pull her into a hug and onto my lap.
In my arms, head to my shoulder, Amelia cries.
While holding her tighter, I ask, "Amelia, what's wrong? You don't need to feel guilty for not doing what you don't want to do. I would never want to force you into anything. What you are doing now seems forced to me. What's wrong?"
She sniffles and takes a deep breath. Looking up into my eyes, she says, "That's just it, though. I wanted you to do that last night and thought I wanted you to do it this morning." She cries harder and buries her head into my shoulder.
I give her the time she needs. A few minutes go by before she can speak. "Logan, I know how you feel, and I understand what you would like, but would never take. I see what I sometimes put you through is almost too much. I understand all this because I feel the same. You know I love you, but I'm also in love with you."
Those words mean the world to me. I'm so overwhelmed I lose the ability to speak. Instead, I gently pull her head back and lean down to kiss her, but she stops me.
"Logan, I love you, but there are two big barriers that don't allow me to be with you. The first is fear. I fear that if we get together, and it didn't work out, that we would lose everything we have, and that terrifies me."
I laugh, and she looks at me with puzzlement. "Amelia, you will never lose me. It has always been us, and it always will be. If we didn't work out, I would still be here for you. And you for me. We can cry about our breakup together and badmouth each other to our faces. But you will never lose me. We have been through too much, and I don't think either of us can live without each other."
"You can really do that, Logan? We can really? Still be there for each other, even if we fail."
"Who are you kidding? How could we not be? Since before I can remember, it has been us."
She takes a deep breath and climbs off me to sit beside me. "OK. You saying that helps, and I believe you. I wish I could have had the guts to say this long before now. But there is the other question. With our mothers being who they were, I'm afraid..."
Our biological mothers were prostitutes, and that's coating it with sugar. Mine was a little older and worn down. I've only seen her when she was high on drugs. Fear of being like that has prevented me from ever trying anything harder than pot. Her mother was younger and, before she was pregnant, serviced the slightly more affluent crowd of white-collar workers.
Early on, probably at age two or three, perhaps younger, Amelia and I got grouped together. Her mother moving to where my mother service the less affluent and sometimes abusive. At first, we would only cuddle in a corner. But as we got older, things got scarier and riskier. We started finding hiding places, like heating ducts. Sometimes going a day or two before emerging for the scraps of food we could find and water.
Our biological mothers did nothing motherly for us. At the best, we were nuisances. At worst, we were targets for their meaner clients. We would always run and hide and we had several hiding spaces. Many times, the only barrier between all the things being done to our mothers was a metal grate or a thin wall away. And we held each other while we had no choice but to listen.
When I was ten, a well-dressed man came and bought me. I assumed for sex or other things. Later, I would find out how wrong I was. But, as it was happening, I thought that's what his purchase of me was about. Even as bad as my fears of what he wanted me for were, I couldn't leave Amelia there alone. So I begged the man to take her as well.
He made it clear he didn't want her. That if she were to come, she was my responsibility to take care of. And if I didn't do well, she would have to leave.
My benefactor wasn't as mean as I built him up to be in my head. He gave us a nice, gigantic home to live in. Fed us and made sure we were healthy. Once we were, he brought in tutors to teach us. Officially, he claimed just for me and I had to teach Amelia, but the tutors taught us both. Eventually, he even sent us both to community college.
