Rope and Veil Pt. 03

"Yes, sorry, I'm day-dreaming. Two lattes please, and can we have a glass of water?"

Coffee girl's fingers touch mine as she gives me change, and they're warm. "Don't wait. I'll bring the drinks across to you."

"Thanks, that'd be nice."

"It's my pleasure." Her smile is radiant, genuine. Even from a distance, Amelia's presence makes people want to be near her.

The coffee girl brings the drinks to our table, and can't take her eyes off Amelia.

"Thank you," Amelia blesses the girl with her low voice, and the girl's smile is so sweet, she's shining. It's a payment. As she walks away from the table, the waitress looks back to see us one more time, and I don't know if it's me she's responding to, or Amelia. Or the two of us, together.

Amelia watches me watching the girl. "She's pretty," she says.

"Yes, she is. Would you like her?" I tease.

Amelia doesn't respond for a moment. She taps her fingers to her lips, twice. "Yes, she'd be nice and tender, I think."

Jesus, I wasn't being serious, but perhaps Amelia is. Maybe I don't keep up with her moods after all. Fuck. My cock twitches, ideas swirling through my head. Amelia smiles at me, her eyebrow slightly raised. Oh fuck, sprung.

"I think my pregnancy is doing you good, Alex. Do you want to come between my breasts, tonight?"

Her question astonishes me. I thought we were in a cafe drinking coffee, but apparently Amelia's seducing me. And the coffee girl? As we leave, she gives us a shy wave. I wonder whose face she will see in her mind tonight when she comes, mine or Amelia's. I wonder which finger she uses. Fuck, Amelia's hormones are surging all over mine, it seems.

***

That night I'm in bed, waiting for her, but Amelia is taking longer than usual in the bathroom.

"Are you OK, honey," I call out, half expecting her to open the door just as I say the words.

"No, something's wrong. Can you come here?" Amelia's voice quivers, she's not right.

I wrap a dressing gown around me, and go to her. She is perched on the toilet, her pajama bottoms down around her ankles, her hand clutching the rail tight, so tight, her knuckles are white.

"What is it, Amelia? What's wrong?"

"I've not peed all day. My bladder must be bursting, but I've not pissed. My bladder must be full."

I immediately recall Kara's words, 'you really need to keep your bladder and bowel routines regular, stay in your routines, don't run any risk of infection or irritation. Don't let that bitch dysreflexia trigger.'

"Is your catheter blocked? You've checked that?"

"Yes, I've just put a new one in. But my belly's a different shape now, maybe the angles are all wrong. I don't know." Amelia is panicked, I can hear it in her voice, she's trying to be calm. She's frightened. What can I do?

"Can I check it, massage your belly maybe?"

"Yes, yes, anything. Can you remember Kara's instructions?"

"I think so." First, though, I need to wash my hands, before I go anywhere near my precious woman. Our water runs hot quickly, and it isn't long before I'm shaking my hands in the air to dry them.

"Here, put your arms around my neck, support yourself that way."

Amelia holds her body upright, clutching around my neck, her head buried in my shoulder. I reach down and gently part her legs, and I can see the catheter coming from her urethra. Remembering the time I had watched Amelia insert the catheter, following a session at the clinic, I can see that yes, the angle looks a bit odd.

"I'm going to turn the tube slightly, it doesn't look right, OK?"

"Do it, do anything, please."

Reaching between her legs, I take the exposed end of the tube, and turn it a fraction. There's a slight resistance, then it turns more freely. As it does so I feel a hot trickle of pee.

"Good, I'm doing something right, there's some wee, trickling."

Amelia grips my hair in response, but doesn't say a word. Between her legs the trickle grows a little stronger, and then there's sound of lightly falling water, a steady ripple.

"There it is, Amelia, the catheter must have been twisted somehow."

Her hot flowing stream spills over my hand, and I leave it there, a baptism of sorts, a different intimacy. The hand around my head caresses my hair, a different holding on. I lower my lips to Amelia's mouth and kiss her, a different heat. Her pee flows, draining her fear as it goes. I like the wet warmth on my hand.

When finally the flow stops I cup my hand over Amelia's sex for a moment, as if to sooth it. I know Amelia cannot feel my hand there, but I can feel her. If it doesn't sooth her, it soothes me. After a minute, Amelia clinging to my neck, my hand cupping her wet core, I reach for a pack of hygienic wipes and gently wipe her clean. I let the air dry her there - I'm so conscious of hygiene and cleanliness - then lift her in my arms and carry her through to our bed. She is quiet and curled and she clings to my neck.

"Thanks Alex, my angel, thanks for doing that for me."

"Honey, if I have to do that every day, it's better than calling for an ambulance, yeah?" I lower her to the bed and tuck her down. "Wait a sec, I'll just rinse my hands, then I'll be back. Your turn to warm the bed for me, golden girl."

"What do you mean, golden girl?" Amelia looks at me, perplexed. I count: one, two, three... "You fucker, golden shower, golden girl... Fuck, you're an asshole!" But she laughs. "You prick, I see what you're doing."

"Yep. It's a deal, but it's no big deal. You and me, Amelia, we can do what needs to be done. I mean, it's not like I don't know what your sex is all about. We're just sharing a bit more, is all."

"Jesus, Alex, where did I find you?"

"Loitering in a lift, if I recall correctly. Red lips had something to do with it too, I think. Your red lips, Amelia. And two taps of your fingers, when you were certain."

"Alex."

"Yes, honey?"

"I'm certain about you, now. I'm sure."

"Come here, wench. When were you ever not certain?"

We face each other. Amelia's belly is getting too big for her to lie comfortably on her front, so we often lie with her breasts to my chest, her belly against mine, my hardness a shaft against her swell. There's a tiny seam, a darker ridge running right up the centre of her tummy, from her pubic hair up to her navel. I trace my fingers along it, and there's the faintest dark line, a shadow of fine hair.

I crawl down to kiss that little dark line, and Amelia can progressively feel my lips as they move up from her delta to the deep spiral of her navel. I cup her belly in the palms of my hands and wonder what size the little life is, within her. It's a prayer, and I'm holding grace and faith and promise in my hands. There's no inner movement yet, just the lovely curve of Amelia's belly.

I crawl back up, and hold my hardness against her, a long heat. My palms are on her nipples now, and my tongue and lips on Amelia's throat. She holds my face in her hands, and her palms are a prayer and a promise. She pulls my mouth to hers, and our tongues push and taste. I suck on her full bottom lip, and she gently bites mine, and we push little fucks into each other's mouths. My cock bounces and throbs against her belly.

One of my hands holds a full breast, and I love the weight of it. Amelia's nipples are hard, she takes one between her fingers and pulls it, pinches it. She gasps, an intake of breath, and my cock pulses in response.

"Give me your golden fingers," Amelia whispers, "that were covered with piss." She sucks on my fingers, there's no taste of her there, but she suckles and bites. "Clever fingers, Alex, you've got clever fingers." She kisses their tips, my forefinger and middle finger together, touching her lips, and they've touched her other lips, too.

"Higher, lovely man, here, between my breasts."

She hides my shaft within her deep cleavage, and with one hand caresses my balls, slowly, gently. The fingers of her other hand pinch her own nipple, pulling it hard. Amelia's pleasuring herself, and is slow with me. It will be my turn, later. Now, my cock is for her, it's her heat, her length. My cock is hers, now, in her hand.

My hand is slow through her short hair. "Your hair, Amelia, it's so soft. It's like stroking a cat."

"Prrrr. Am I your little pussy, Alex? Careful, I might have sharp claws."

"Pretty kitty, please don't scratch!"

Amelia's not kittenish, she's not got claws, but she's playful as she strokes me between her swelling breasts. Her hand is slow on my shaft, and I sprawl on the bed, my cock trapped in her cleavage. Slow strokes, she's so delightfully languid, it's delicious.

"Alex," she whispers, her hand pausing, "that little coffee girl..."

What, where's Amelia going with this? Her hand has stopped, but my cock bounces as she conjures the girl in the cafe in my mind. Where is she going? Her slow hand, fuck, she teases me. Take me there, Amelia.

"She was a pretty little thing, wasn't she, Alex? With her high pony tail, can you imagine her hair let out, it would be so long, wouldn't it, Alex?" Amelia's stroke is slower, she's going to draw this out. "Can you imagine it, her hair, spread out over your belly?"

"Tell me about her, Amelia. Tell me what she does."

"But Alex..." Amelia's voice is subtly lower, it's the same tone she used to greet the waitress, it's her 'I'm going to seduce you' tone. She's used it on me before and knows it works. Amelia's gliding palm curves over the head of my cock, and her breasts are hot. I look down, and her finger and thumb are idly pulling on her nipples as she talks, pulling them out tight and hard. My cock head is a deepening plum colour, Amelia's fingers curl over its velvet flesh.

"But Alex, our lovely waitress, she's not the one doing anything. You're the one who's doing it all. Your hand reaches for the band in her hair and you pull it loose. Her hair spills over your hand like silk. It's soft, so soft." Amelia's voice is low, a whisper, a crooning lullaby. "Your fingers caress her cheek, her soft, soft skin."

My eyes are closed, and my fingers scratch on the bedsheets. In my mind's eye I imagine the delicate body of the girl stretched out before us on the bed, for of course Amelia is in this fantasy, too. It's hers and mine.

Amelia tells me a story, gently stroking my cock as she talks, twisting her palm over the head of it. She pulls down on my balls from time to time, instinctively slowing down my arousal. She's almost absent minded about my body, her attention on my shaft comes and goes. It's as if her mind wanders, gathering words and making images, our minds are more important. Amelia gets into my mind, weaving threads of stories and teasing out moments.

"What's her name, Alex, this sweet thing you've brought to our bed? She looks like an Anna, or a Zoe, I think." Amelia continues her slide on my cock and her pull on her breasts. I touch the back of her head, and her hair is a stubble, but it's soft.

"Yes, Zoe has long hair," Amelia continues, "it's falling down her back, it's straight and long. Oh Alex, look, she's wrapping it around your cock as she lowers her mouth to your head."

Amelia squeezes my prick, and runs her nails over my balls. The sensation of her touch and the words of her story combine in my head, and I shudder an intake of breath.

"Zoe's breasts, Alex, they're small; and look, her nipples are like little dark chocolates, just ripe to suck on. But you know what would be even better, Alex? Even better than you sucking on her lovely, delicate breasts?"

Amelia's strokes are a little faster now, and the girl she is conjuring is slim and slight and her breasts are small. Amelia's breasts are getting bigger as our baby grows, and Amelia chooses her words as a contrast.

"Even better, Alex, my Alex," Amelia caresses my name with her voice as she caresses my cock with her hand, "even better would be Zoe's mouth on my tits. Fuck yes, imagine that, my lovely man, her sweet curving breasts against my cheek as she suckles my tits. She'll lean over my face to get to my big breasts, and I'll suck those luscious little drops of flesh into my mouth, one at a time. Yes I will, she's such a tasty thing."

Amelia's voice is dreamy. "Yes, I'd like that, I think, delicious little Zoe with her tight, hard tits and her lovely long hair wrapped over my big pregnant belly as she sucks my nipples hard into her mouth. Oh Alex, would you lean back on the cushions watching us, watching your Amelia with the nubile little Zoe?

"I think you'd like that, my darling Alex, don't you? I watched you watching her as she walked away in the cafe. The sway of her ass was divine in that little black waitress skirt, wasn't it? I saw your eyes narrow, Alex, I watched you. Oh yes. That sweet girl's firm little ass, her swaying hips as she walked away. So fuckable. Look, see how her hair swings as she turns her head. God, I want to eat her all up, she's the sweetest thing."

Amelia's fingers grip my cock, and her stroke is from the head to my balls, back and forth, down and up, squeezing, squeezing. Her voice has spun pictures in my mind, and in my mind I see the coffee girl lying naked over Amelia, their limbs wrapped together and Zoe's long, silken hair hiding, hiding, falling, falling, stroking, stroking. Ah, my cock tightens, my balls rise, I'm close. Amelia knows, and she slows.

"And Alex," Amelia's voice is ragged and broken, her breath short and gasping, she's turned herself on with my prick and her story. "Oh Alex, her pussy is so wet on my mouth, so wet. Her scent, oh fuck, it's sweet and her cunt's so juicy. Our Zoe has made herself so so wet sucking my tits and dropping her wet slit onto my mouth. I'll eat her all up, that naughty little waitress, flirting with my Alex. I'll eat her, for wanting my man. I'll suck her cunt, to remind her of me.

"Oh Alex," Amelia sighs, her hand gripping my shaft and pumping hard now, squeezing me, pumping me, I'm close. "My Alex, would you like to fuck the delectable Zoe, your big prick deep into her hot wet cunt, fuck her hard till she moans?"

Amelia is stroking my prick faster, faster, she knows I'm close, my cock feels huge in her hand, she's got me.

"Alex," she sighs my name, "do you know what I'd like even more, even more than watching you pump little Zoe harder, harder, fucking her harder, pumping her sweet, tight cunt?"

Her hand is faster, pulling me hard, fast, fuck, yes, fuck, faster, fuck, I'm nearly...

"After you come in her, l'll eat your come from her cunt. Yes, I will, lovely Alex, I'll eat Zoe all out. Her juices mixed with yours. Mine."

With that image I'm done, complete. My wetness spills between Amelia's breasts, and she squeezes and pumps my cock as I slide between her deep cleavage, my come spilling over her skin.

"So wet, my little Zoe, so wet."

Amelia's fantasy takes me, makes me, leaves me spilt and wet in the night. She holds my spurting cock between her hot breasts until I'm done.

Amelia rubs the cream between her breasts and over her shoulders and down onto her belly. She tastes me, my cream between her fingers. With the taste of my come on her lips, she reaches her head up to kiss me, and pushes her tongue into my mouth.

"My goodness, Alex, that was a lot. Did my story of tasty Zoe do it for you, you wicked boy?"

"Hell yes, Amelia. That was fucking delicious. What made you think of the coffee girl, to bring her to our bed?"

Amelia looked at me, laughing creases beside her eyes and a wicked smile. She took my hands in hers.

"Because the girl was cute as a kitten when she came to our table, this afternoon, so fresh. I don't know, it must be my hormones all over the place, the idea of her naked, there it was. In my head. You didn't mind though, did you, Alex, you bad boy, you."

"Umm, no, not at all. But Amelia..."

"What is it, Alex?"

"It's always you, when I come, it's always for you."

She pokes her finger into my shoulder. "I know, my beautiful man, I know that." Amelia snuggles her head into my shoulder, kissing my neck. "Hold me close, Alex, let me feel your heartbeat. I'm sleepy now."

Amelia sleeps, and our baby is growing inside her.

I hope nothing goes wrong. I'm scared, but I can't show that. I'm in the tumbling surf more than I've ever been. I've got to keep swimming upwards, towards the light.

***

It's winter, and nights are cold. Amelia's belly is big and she feels movement within her. I often walk into a room and find her sitting peacefully, her hands either resting on top of her pregnant belly, or gently caressing her swell. She's slow in her movements, and that's not like her, she's usually quick. A quick circle of her wheels when she is out, or a swift slide on her wooden floor when she's home. She's finding different rhythms.

Amelia sits quietly, contemplating the child within. When I enter the room and interrupt her revery, she looks up at me and smiles. I melt, for her gaze is so gentle, yet so thorough. Amelia looks into my soul, deep, and her dark eyes, deepest blue, possess me. I don't want to look away, couldn't even if I wanted to. I'm entranced by this woman and her hidden child, and her growing acceptance of her new self. I wonder if I deserve her certainty, because I still doubt myself.

Amelia smiles, and twists her longer hair down over a shoulder. Her hair is its natural colour now, a dark brown, and she's letting it grow.

"I'll plait it thick when I can, and it'll be my own rope. I wonder how long I can grow it. Rapunzel, me, but not blonde. Not in a tower, either. Too many stairs. I'm not such a good climber, not any more."

She beckons me, and I sit beside her, my head resting on her shoulder this time. She takes my hand in hers, and together we rest our laced fingers on her belly. It's as if the child knows both of us are here, for its kick is strong.

"It's like the little thing is swimming back and forth in there," Amelia says. "Sometimes I feel the kick on one side, then the other. The little sprog is constantly moving. I love the sensations within me, they make up for the empty places."

She's had ultrasounds taken, to check all the things that can be checked. "But don't tell me what sex the baby is, Doc. I want it to be a surprise." As a consequence, we're thinking of girl's names and boy's names, so we can get used to the sound of them. I wonder if the kid thinks he or she is twins, when we speak different names out loud.

"Take me to bed, Alex. I'm getting so big I'm like a beached whale. I can barely move, sometimes."

Amelia is big with her belly and her breasts, even her thighs which are usually so thin are getting some curve to them.

"It's your body's way of storing energy, surely, so you've got reserves for the baby."

"Yes, probably, or I'm just getting fat."

"No, Amelia, not fat, pregnant. There's a huge difference. What is it with gorgeous pregnant women, they think they're fat?"

"Yeah, well, I feel fucking huge."

"Come on then, Ball, I'll just roll you to bed, shall I?"

"Fucker. Be respectful to your inflatable wife."

I look at Amelia, surprised at her last comment. Wife? When did that happen?

She looks back at me, equally surprised. "Did I just say what I think I said?"

"Yes, I think so."

Amelia laughs in delight. "Fuck me, these hormones of mine really are all over the place, aren't they?"

OK, so not quite serious then. Not yet, anyway. But we do seem to be going down a certain path, now. One thing at a time, I think to myself. My hand grips hers, and she squeezes it back. Maybe. But not yet.

Amelia props herself up on pillows, her roundness in front of her. I curl beside her and, one by one, undo the buttons of her top. Her belly is smooth and round, the long seam at the front a noticeable ridge, a darker run of pigment. Her navel has popped out like some strange stem. Her breasts are bigger than they were, and her nipples are bigger too, darkening. She's changing, and we're both amazed.