Amber The Babysitter Pt 11

Amber the babysitter 11

The following day, when I awoke, I felt like I had run a marathon. I was sore and achy and had a ton of sleep in my eyes. When I finally could focus, I saw the clock read 9:43. I rolled my head to the side and saw that Amber was not in bed with me. It is a very rare occasion that she is up before me. Even on days when we both work, she usually sleeps an hour, if not two hours, later than I do.

I rose from my bed, washed up, put on my robe and slippers, and wandered down the hallway toward the kitchen. I could hear Amber talking to someone, and as I cleared the hallway, I saw her sitting on the couch in her pajamas, bottoms, and tops, talking on her phone. When she saw me coming, she put her fingers over the phone speaker, looked at me, and whispered, "There's coffee."

I glided my hand across the top of her head as I walked past her and over to the coffee pot, pouring myself a big, dark, strong cup. I could hear her conversation, and I heard her telling whomever she was talking to about our night, our dinner, and bragging about her engagement ring. How shiny and beautiful it looked on her finger, and I smiled with pleasure, knowing she was bragging about getting engaged.

When she finished her conversation, she rose from the couch, walked towards me, and said, "Good morning, my love. How are you today?"

I groaned out because, as happy and excited as I was that we were engaged, I was still so tired and drained that I was not cognizant of the moments yet. Amber surely realized how exhausted I was because she "Aww'ed" at me as she kissed my lips and lightly wrapped her arms around me, rubbing my back.

"I have been up since early this morning. I have called my best friend, my college classmate, one of my ex-boyfriends, and I was just about to call my mom to tell her we were engaged." She told me.

I knew she was excited, just as I was, and undoubtedly full of pep, more than I was this morning. But I knew this kind of conversation was not something you told your parents over the phone. We needed to get ourselves together, shower, clean up, and take a ride to their house for lunch. After a long embracing hug, some time on the couch, and enjoying our morning alone, we got up, showered together, did our best to look presentable, and left the house. We stopped for a quick bite and pulled into her parents' home just before noon.

When we sat at the kitchen table, we told them we had gotten engaged, had both been on bended knees, and had matching engagement rings. I could see them lose color in their faces. They turned ghostly white. As much as they pretended to be happy for us, her parents were clearly disturbed about our engagement. But we stood firm and proud that we had decided to be wed.

After a while, her parents excused themselves and asked Amber to join them in the front room "alone" for a chat. I felt awkward and unsure as they all walked out of the kitchen, shutting the door behind them. Over the next five minutes, I could hear them trying to be quiet, but their voices got louder, the arguing got heated, and minutes later, Amber came blasting back into the kitchen, barking out to me, "Come on, we need to leave."

I cautiously and nervously stood up, followed her out the door, got in my car, and drove around for a while. As we drove, she screamed aloud, yelling and venting to me about what they had said and how they forbid this wedding. That their little girl wasn't some lesbian! They thought it was just a phase. That I was using her. Why would she marry someone 20 years older than her? That they wanted grandkids. It was a very tense and angry situation, to say the least.

After she cooled down, we stopped at my parents. The reception wasn't much better, but at least my parents didn't pull me into the other room and forbid a wedding.

When we got home, I called Nancy to let her know the kids could return anytime. When they came blasting through the door, they tried to act surprised even though they already knew I was proposing. I invited Nancy and her kids over for burgers, dogs, and a Sunday night movie as a thank-you for her help.

The time with the kids, Nancy, and the minor celebration we had lifted her mood that day. But, for the next two weeks, Amber was not the same. Even though we continued to tell our friends, other family members, and respective co-workers about our engagement, I could tell this weighed heavy on her mind. We got up each day and lived our lives, went to our jobs, came home, made dinner, helped with homework, and went to bed. Oddly enough, even though we were always together, sleeping in the same bed, bragging about our relationship, and showing off our rings. Amber and I had not had sex since the night I proposed. And that was concerning me.

The following weekend, when we were alone and sitting down to eat dinner, I could tell she was still having some deep thoughts about us--about what her parents said and about the reactions we had from mine--and I thought it was time to clear the air. I tried and tried to get it out of her, but all I kept getting was, "Nothing's wrong. I'm just tired. I have a lot going on with school." None of which were the truth.

After I washed up the dishes and we sat on the couch, Amber started crying. She looked me in the eye and said, "I'm sorry, Jill. I hate to say this, but I think I need to go home."

My heart sank. All of the air I had inside of me ceased to exist. I believe I stopped breathing. I mumbled my words. I couldn't even put together a complete sentence. I didn't know what to say. I didn't want her to leave, but if she was having regrets or second thoughts, then she needed to resolve them, one way or another.

"I love you, and I want to be with you, but I have to clear my head before we move further," she said as she rose from the couch, looking down at me as tears ran down her cheek.

I heard her in the bedroom packing. Minutes later, she came out, rolling her suitcase down the hallway--the same suitcase she had brought her clothes in when she moved in.

"Amber, wait!" I screamed.

"Why are you doing this? Why are you leaving? I don't want to lose you. We can get through this; we need to communicate." I cried out, begging for her to stay.

"Amber looked at me and said, "I love you, but I have to figure this out alone."

Amber slid her ring from her finger and handed it back to me. She would not let me touch her or hold her hand. She would pull away if I tried to reach out. She kept her distance as if I had said or done something to hurt her or betray her. I watched her turn her back to me, open the door, force her suitcase out, and walk away without saying goodbye.

I watched as she got into her car, reversed out of the driveway, and drove down the street. My feelings were in such flux that one second, I wanted to scream and yell at her as if I would say, "Fine, good riddance." Seconds later, I wanted to scream to her, "Amber, please don't leave," because I loved and needed her.

I cried for hours after she left. I felt an emptiness I had not felt in a long time, and those overwhelming fears I had throughout our relationship of her leaving me had just come to fruition. I was once again alone, left behind, and without the love I had come to know. I tried calling and texting her for over ten days with very little response. Time kept drifting on, each day rolled into another, and just over two weeks later, after still not hearing much from her, I slid my ring off my finger and accepted that she was gone.

I had pulled myself up from my bootstraps before. I had been left behind before. I got through it then, and by God, I would do it again. In actuality, the more she didn't respond, the more she was distant, the more she left me hanging, the more pissed off I got. But as boldly as I may sit here and tell you, "I am woman, hear me roar," I was an absolute train wreck.

I missed holding her body to mine each time I crawled into bed. I missed seeing her standing naked at the sink after showering while she put her makeup on. I could still smell her perfume in the house. I truly missed seeing her tits, her sexy waxed pussy, and feeling her wetness on my lips when I ate her out. Her reaching for my pussy when she was horny, getting me very aroused until she ate me out. I missed our conversations. I know the kids missed her. As much - at times - as I wanted to go over to her parent's house and drag her out by her hair, I was also not going to force us to happen.

My children's father came to pick them up the following Saturday afternoon. They must have told him Amber had left because just as he walked out, he said, "Oh, hey. Sorry to hear about you and your girlfriend." And he smiled at me very smirkingly, as if he was enjoying rubbing it in my face.

"Fuck You," I groaned out as I slammed the door on him and retreated to the sanctuary of my quite lonely house to start cleaning up. My blood was boiling. I felt red, flushed, heated. My heart was pounding in my chest. I was fit to be tied. About two minutes later, the doorbell rang. I figured it was fuck face coming back because the kids forgot something. I huffed and puffed, walking hard towards the door. When I whipped it open in a fury, ready to tell the fucker off again, there standing before me was Amber.

"What the fuck do you want?" I asked.

"Jill, I'm sorry." She spoke. "I know I haven't answered your calls or texts. I had to get my emotions together. I had to resolve my family issues," she added.

"So, what the fuck does that mean to me?" I asked, angered.

"I had to come to peace with our decision. I had to explain things to my parents. I had to let them digest this before we could move on."

"And you couldn't have done that from here?" I asked. "We couldn't have done that together as couples do. You fucking run out and give me my ring back and don't talk to me for three weeks. Then, show up and say, "Sorry." Fuck you, Amber. Go home to your parents; they clearly mean more to you than I do."

Her look was one of sheer terror, followed by sheer disappointment as I turned and slammed the door in her face. I heard her yell, "Jill," as I walked away from my door. I thought to myself, now you know what it feels like bitch.

Weeks went by without us talking, texting, or seeing each other. Each time she tried calling me, I declined the call. She tried reaching me through the kids on their cell phones. I had them block her number. I wasn't giving in an inch. When flowers showed up at my work, I refused delivery. If a package showed up at my door that I wasn't expecting, it went into the garbage can. I was not going to be mistreated, walked out on, and left hanging. I had that happen once in my life, by a man. I surely wasn't going to have it done to me again by a woman. Hell hath no fury as a woman scorned. Well, I had been scorned. I was undoubtedly one spiteful bitch.

That is until the night, when Amber let herself in several weeks later, crawled into bed with me as I was sleeping, and woke me up. As soon as I felt her there, instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her, like I had done a hundred times when she curled up next to me. But as I came back to consciousness, I almost jumped out of bed because I was shocked; she was lying next to me.

"Please don't throw me out." She begged. "I have to talk to you."

Amber instantly began crying. She balled, she screamed, she whimpered, and as time passed and she started to gain her composure, she begged for my forgiveness. She explained all the issues and concerns she had kept quiet during our relationship. She explained in depth the concerns her parents had. I almost didn't care and wished she would have left until she said two words to me that made me pause. Amid her rambling, she finally said, "I'm scared."

It grabbed my attention, and when I asked her to explain why she "was scared," she rambled off a list of issues deep in her mind. Strikingly enough, her hidden fears were precisely the same as mine. Her age, my kids, and me leaving her for a more mature woman. She feared I would not want any more children. I would retire before her, and I would want to move. That neither she nor I would ever be with a man again. It all resonated deeply. And it hit home. She was just as scared, anxious, and uneasy about us as I had been. She just never showed it or expressed it until now. I pulled her in closer to me, and I admitted the fears I had about her. About us.

We talked until the wee hours of the morning. We fought, we cried, we yelled, and when needed, we apologized to each other. But what held us together was one common issue. We were both in love with each other. As much as it was odd for both of us to know and digest, we were both in love with a woman. Something neither of us had ever expected, but something we had to accept was our fate.

At about 2:00 A.M., she said something to me that made absolute sense. Amber suggested, "We slow down. We take more time. We start spending more time with her parents and with mine. Bring the kids along. Show everyone that we are in love and want to move forward. That we are dedicated to our relationship."

She pulled me to her and kissed me deeply. It was like our first kiss all over again. All the fears, emotions, anger, hate, jealousy, and excitement resonated from me as her lips were pressed to me. I realized then that her leaving wasn't her leaving me, because I had failed. She was just as scared as I was and needed to figure this out while appeasing her parents. To truly accept what she wanted, admit her fears, and face them head-on.

She pulled away from our kiss and said, "I promised you I would marry you. I promised to help with the kids. I promised I would never leave, and I left. I can never say I am sorry enough. I love you. You are my life, my lover, and my future wife. Please forgive me."

I broke down crying and held her tightly, letting go of my animosity and anger. I accepted her love as she was accepting mine. I never had such warm, deep, loving feelings as I did at that moment. It was like we both had finally accepted where we were in life and who we planned to be with. Two women, decades apart in age, who were absolutely in love with each other. As odd and unusual as it would be for our relationship to happen, it was as just as exciting, loving, and caring that we were in it.

When the crying stopped and the kissing started, I believe we had moved past making love to further our relationship and began the time of making love to enhance it. Within seconds, my body trembled, my stomach flipped, and I felt something I hadn't before. I wanted to be inside of her. I wanted our spirits to connect. I wanted to be part of her soul, to hear what she was thinking. To feel her pain but also her excitement. And by the way, she was kissing me, I believe she felt the same.

Amber lifted my pajama shirt up and over my head. Her face leaned down, and she softly and lovingly caressed, held, kissed, and sucked both of my nipples until they were rock hard. She took her time. She made me feel special, and she was slowly seducing me to pleasure me the way she thought she needed to.

She guided me down onto my pillow, slid her hands down into my pajama bottoms, and rubbed up and down over my pussy, while her mouth continued sucking my tits. Kissing along my chest, my neck, and my mouth. My legs spread wide open as her fingers dove deep, tickling my asshole, as she continued her long foreplay. I was in love with her. There was no doubt. I had missed her touch, kiss, and hands wandering all over my body.

Amber edged herself up, grabbed the sides of my pajamas, and slid them down off my legs. She crawled right in between my legs, gently kissed her way up my thighs, and licked her tongue across my clit. I chirped in pleasure, feeling her taking me. She licked, sucked, and swirled her tongue all over me for minutes on end until I was ready to cum. I exploded on her face as it was pressed deep against my skin, her tongue inside of me, my hands cupping my tits. When I finished cumming, and she pulled her face from my pussy, she looked up at me and said the words I think she needed to hear herself say. Without hesitation, she spoke out, "I am a lesbian, and I love you, Jill."

I think I got wetter hearing her say that. Before I could even respond, her face went right back down onto my pussy, and she continued sucking and licking me, fingering me, and making me cum again. The way she made love to me was beyond incredible. I believe during our time apart, she realized that no one else would love her the way I did. That she wanted my pussy just as much as I wanted hers. That her lot in life was going to be licking my soaking wet slit until I came, and I would always return the favor to her.

When she got me off again, and I needed a break, I pulled her up to my face, kissed her deeply, and said, "I am a lesbian, too, and I love you, Amber."

From that moment on, the passion grew. Our lovemaking enhanced. Our sexual appetite instantly exploded, and in the wee hours of the morning, weeks after she left, she was back. And this time, I knew it was for good. I took my time in seducing her. I was just as slow and deliberate as she was. I slowly undressed her. I caressed every inch of her body. I licked in places I had never licked before. I made her cum time and time again. I heard her scream my name more than once. I was dripping wet through it all. I felt alive again, as if I had been reborn. I had accepted that the love of my life was a woman. I had come to accept that it was her touch, her lips, her tight body, her sexy tits, and her sloppy, soaking wet pussy I would be licking and fingering from here on out. It's her that makes me smile. It's her touch that arouses me. It's her mouth that gets me soaking wet, and at that moment at nearly 3:00 A.M., when I was lying flat on my chest licking her pussy to orgasm, I truly wished I could get her pregnant.

I was looking up at her as I rammed two fingers in and out of her as hard as I could. Her legs were tightening, her moans increasing, and her body arching as I knew she was getting close again. "I wish I had a dick, Amber. I want to cum in you and get you pregnant," Spewed from my mouth.

Hearing that, she chirped loudly and exploded onto my fingers while her ass lifted off of the mattress.

"My God!" She cried out as she reached down and grabbed my arm, stopping my momentum.

"Jill, you gotta stop. You gotta stop." She kept resonating in a low, worn out, heavy breath sighs.

She pulled me up to her face and kissed me deeply. As our mouths separated, she whispered between our kisses, "I am never leaving you again."

"I love you."

"I don't care what my parents like."

"I have to live my life. And I am going to live it with you."

My heart melted, and I felt we had gotten closer in one night, admitting our fears and concerns, discussing them, and overcoming them, than we had in the previous six months of our relationship.

When Amber got up to pee, I watched her sexy naked ass walking away from the bed; I got instantly aroused again. It's like I had had a new beginning, and seeing her sexy body was all I needed to get wet. To feel the tingling inside of me and to want her face and fingers right in between my legs.

Instead of returning to bed, she wandered down the hall and grabbed us both drinks, a couple of cigarettes, and the ashtray. It's a rarity that either one of us smokes too often, but after the night of emotions and sex we just had, we both needed that smoke.

I can honestly say that I have been beyond horny in my life. I have masturbated probably more than any other woman I have ever known. I have gone so far as to stick things in my pussy and my ass that most women have never thought of. I have masturbated in places most people wouldn't even think about doing it at. I have masturbated in the bathroom at work. In my car while driving to or from numerous places. In movie theaters. In parking lots, in my shower, in my bed, bent over my kitchen counter, in hotel rooms, and, of course, with her. But nothing, and I mean nothing, made me as wet as she did. No other woman. No man. No movies, no thoughts or fantasies.