Amy
Chapter 6

Copyright© 2010 by Tedbiker

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 6 - Amy has been rejected by her parents, dumped by her boyfriend, and lost her job. What will she do?

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Tear Jerker   Slow  

When September came round, it was strange not having Amy around during the day. Not that she'd been at home all the time, but knowing she'd be out of the house most of the day during the week ... well, the house felt empty. I had things to occupy me; I had Serenity out of the water and the work under way to get her up to scratch in every respect. I actually spent much of my spare time on that. Large areas of paintwork I tackled with a heavy-duty random orbital sander. It dealt with large areas very efficiently, but it was so heavy I could only use it for a few minutes at a time — of course my ability to hold it increased with time. Small areas of varnished hardwood, there was no alternative to glass-paper and elbow grease. It was very satisfying though.

In the evenings, Amy studied hard. I encouraged her to talk about her work; I was a maths student once upon a time, but that was a very long time ago. I found the English the most interesting, and read the set books along with Amy. Oh, dear, some of it was pretty turgid stuff ... Of course, we unwound later on ... the sex just kept getting better.

Amy really got close to Jenni, who was now starting an OU degree — in mathematics so Jenni was more help than I with the maths; I started feeling a little abandoned when Amy spent more time with Jenni in the evenings, but then I got an invitation from Dave and Jessica, and started spending time with them. I eventually heard most of the story — I should say stories, really — of Jenni and Dave, Jessica and Marty.

Jessica and Jenni did much of the wedding planning with Amy — I was left in no doubt I was merely a necessary accessory for the event. Jessica and Dave's little girl, Alison, was a little too young to be a bridesmaid, sadly, but Jenni made a lovely maid of honour (should that be 'matron of honour' as she was married? I never did work that out) and Dave kindly agreed to stand as my Best Man.

We had 'the Arrival of the Queen of Sheba', we sang Love Divine, and walked out to Widor's famous Toccata. Amy wore a lovely cream dress (I suppose the colour had some fancy name) and a friend of Jenni's had done her hair and make-up. She took my breath away. After a suggestion from Dave, I asked Jenni to sing during the signing of the register; she has a lovely contralto, and sang 'I will always love you', and 'Myfanwy'. Her voice was so sweet and true, I think there were a few damp eyes just from that.

The reception was in a well-known sea-front restaurant with a large room over-looking the prom. I can't say much about it — all wedding receptions are much alike, really, and I could hardly take my eyes off my bride; I couldn't believe the unprepossessing young woman I'd met not many yards away, in fact, and only five months previously, had metamorphosed into this radiantly beautiful person. And that we were married.

There wasn't much we needed, so the wedding presents were more symbolic or humorous than practical, except that Alan gave us a car, and driving lessons for Amy.

Did I mention I don't like London? Our honeymoon was spent — yes, in London. It wasn't too bad; we stayed in a very nice hotel, the weather was dry and cool, and of course we didn't have to rush around. The museums and art galleries are excellent, of course, and we got tickets for Phantom of the Opera, but mostly we just enjoyed each other.

Being married didn't really make much difference in practical terms; we officially shared the master bedroom, of course, but apart from that I looked after most of the housekeeping while Amy studied. We made sure that we spent an hour before bedtime, just being together, listening to music or reading. During the summer we made a longish cruise up the east coast. We took things very easily and were careful with the weather forecasts.

Her second year at College was much the same, if more intense. Her tutors were very impressed, both with her ability and her application ... suddenly the end of the year was upon her and the exams. Once they were all done, she breathed a sigh of relief; we packed up and set sail, to the south this time, through the straits of Dover and down channel.

Amy got her results — she had to get a friend to call her — while we were sailing in the Channel Islands. It was something to celebrate — an A* (English Lit) two As (English and Mathematics) and a B in Biology. She'd already decided to copy Jenni and Marty and take an Open University degree from home. Shortly after switching the phone off, we found ourselves in the middle of a pod of dolphins. It was spectacular; Amy was delighted.

One evening in September, we had Jenni and Marty with us for supper. We'd got to the relaxing after the meal point; I was sipping whisky with Marty. Jenni had a glass of wine and Amy was sticking to water. Mine not to reason why ... but then I was hit by a really bad headache. Jenni saw me wince and I heard her ask if I was okay, as the glass dropped from my hand and everything went black.

I recognised where I was — I'd dreamed of it before. I felt light, and young, and Lucy was there. She embraced me and it was a coming home ... until she pulled back.

"Barry, you have a choice. You can stay here and go on with me, or you can go back. Think very carefully, because I think you will be blessed if you go back, even though it will mean pain and a struggle ... Look behind you."

I turned, and saw ... I was looking down at myself, sprawled awkwardly on the sofa. Amy was clinging to me and weeping; Marty was on the phone. My heart turned over; I looked at Lucy, and back at Amy. I couldn't do it...

"It's not time, yet, is it?" I said to Lucy.

"I don't think so, no. But you did have the choice." She smiled, waved ... and I was back with the headache.

I tried to speak, but the words wouldn't form properly; I tried to squeeze her hand, and realised nothing was happening — I couldn't feel her hand on mine. I reached across with my other hand and stroked her face, which was wet.

"DON'T you dare leave me on my own... " she hissed.

I worked my mouth and achieved a sort of grunt, then managed to say (though I'm not at all sure how clear it came out) "I ... chose ... to ... come ... back. I ... love ... you."

She kissed me, then.

Marty said, "Ambulance is on its way, they say five minutes."

I don't remember much about the next few hours; I was in and out. When Amy realised I couldn't feel my left hand, she held the other and kept talking — how much she loved me, how wonderful it had been sailing together, how she enjoyed learning about music and reading together. They made her go home at some point; I sort of slept between being poked and prodded, and having lights shone in my eyes, being lifted and turned. There was the mortifying moment when I wet the bed, and the sheer discomfort of hospital beds. I'm sure some of the nurses wore clogs ... They were very patient, though, and matter-of-fact.

Amy turned up for visiting after lunch — I was dozing, and she sat and held my hand until I realised she was there.

"Can you understand what I'm saying?" she asked.

My speech was returning, so I was able to reply; "Yes, I can hear okay. Mouth doesn't work too well yet, though" - you understand, that was what I intended to say; I think it was a bit garbled.

 
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