My Amore

By Marc81

A special thanks to Literotica member, Rex Brookdale for his editing and exceptional creative input.My Amore is a work of erotic fiction that contains interracial sex between a white woman and Indian man. If this content is not to your liking, please find a story more suitable to your tastes. *

I remember the first time I met Stacy. It feels as if it was yesterday.

It was just an ordinary Sunday afternoon; I was visiting my aunt Sharon and her husband Gary, along with their three children Olivia, Kerry, and Gavin. I had not seen the family in a long time, and it felt good to be spending time with them. However, when I arrived, Gavin was not among the throng.

"Where is Gavin?" I asked.

Aunt Sharon replied, "He is with his new girlfriend and will be back soon."

While we waited for Gavin, we continued chatting and laughing, catching up,

We heard car doors closing and voices outside. It must be Gavin, I thought. The next sound we heard was of a pair of high heels against the wooden flooring in the hallway; in steps Gavin, and next to him was this vision of beauty.

Her long jet-black hair cascaded down her shoulders and flowed down her back as the afternoon sun now shining through the windows caused her hair to glisten as if they were strands of silk, with a few pieces of hair trapped in her gold hooped earrings. Her porcelain skin, flawless with just a hint of makeup; the beauty spots dotted her face like stars in the blanket of the night sky. Her hazel eyes were emphasised by black eye liner; her lovely red lips matched the colour of her beautiful, manicured nails. She wore a lemon-coloured dress, not too tight or too loose-fitting, but just enough to emphasise the curves of her sleek body; the black high heels accentuating her calves.

Gavin introduced us., She hugged everyone in greeting; it was a hug I would never forget so warm and caring, the smell of her perfume intoxicating. For my aunt and uncle this was also the first time they had met her. They were stunned, to say the least. Being conservative Indians, they were most probably thinking Why could he not bring home a nice Indian girl? But that was Gavin: a lady's man. Tall, dark, and handsome, he went through women as quickly as he changed his clothes. He could have any women he wanted, with his thick black hair and muscular body; the women would drool at him, and he knew it. I, on the other hand, was not so lucky, just an ordinary Indian guy of average height and build, with glasses and a balding head of hair. I had an average nine-to-five-day job, with average pay. An average life: unlucky in love and unlucky in life.

We all chatted, getting to know Stacy. She was a studio manager for a local fashion company. She also did some private work such as wedding photography. Beauty and brains, I thought to myself. Her Dad had died from cancer when she was ten years old; her mom lived and worked in another state. Stacy had her own apartment in the city.

Sometime later, Gavin came up to me and asked, "So what do you think about Stacy?"

"She is amazing," I replied.

He laughed, "Careful cousin, she is mine."

I gazed at her as she sat across the room. How I wished she was mine; how I wish I could tell her what a dirtbag cheater my cousin was and that she deserved better; but I could not. He was my cousin. He would never forgive me.

The following week was spent thinking about Stacy. There was a stupid smile on my face every time, like a fool in love, my thoughts drifted; wondering when I would see her again, knowing all the while I could never have her. She was out of my league.

I did not see her again for quite some time. When I visited Aunt Sharon, Gavin was never at home; he was out with Stacy.

At the end of the month, I get a call from my aunt inviting me for Sunday lunch. "Everyone will be here, and you should join us."

"Okay, I will," I said, hoping to see Stacy again.

Sunday had arrived. I had made a peppermint tart and got dressed in my Sunday best. I shaved and used my best cologne, and then headed over to my aunt's place.

Olivia answered the door. "Wow, cousin, you are looking smooth."

I laughed it off and handed her the dessert. "Would you place this in the refrigerator, please?"

We had a few drinks and snacks waiting for Gavin to arrive, he went to pick up Stacy, I tried to hide my excitement knowing that Stacy was also attending the lunch. I heard the car pull into the driveway, in stepped Gavin and Stacy, she wore a lovely blue dress and matching high heels. We greeted and chatted for a while before settling down to lunch and eventually dessert. The conversation flowed along with the food and drinks.

"Who made the dessert?" Stacy asked.

"It was Ashley," my aunt replied.

I smiled, and Stacy smiled back. "That the peppermint tart was lovely," she said.

We all eventually ended up outside by the pool, talking and drinking. I got to know Stacy a lot better, learning more about her life. She wanted to know more about me and asked if I had a girlfriend, somebody special in my life, to which I replied not now.

"You will find the right person in time. There is someone for everyone," she said. At that moment she gazed at Gavin with such love and care in her eyes. She was in love with him.

During the weeks that followed were I felt depressed. I replayed in my mind's eye the look of love Stacy had given Gavin. Would I ever, if ever, have someone look at me in that way? I avoided my aunt's home for the next few weeks and focused on work and moving on with life. No matter how much I tried I could not get Stacy out of my mind.

Several months had passed. I finally decided to stop this foolishness and visit Sharon and Gary and my cousins. It was not their fault that my heart was broken..

Aunt Sharon greeted me, saying, "Hello, Ashley, it's good to see you.

Where you have you been all this time?"

"I was busy at work, working long hours and weekends," I replied.

While we were laughing and catching up, in walked Gavin and Stacy. Her arm was hooked around his. When would this torture of seeing them together ever end? I thought to myself; but nothing would prepare me or the family for what we were about to hear.

Gavin stood in front of everyone and said, "Everyone, we have an announcement. Stacy and I are expecting our first child."

My jaw dropped, my aunt feel back in her chair, the room fell into a deafening silence. After a short pause, Gary stood up and congratulated his son and hugged them both. The rest of us followed suit. I went through the motions, congratulating them along with the others, albeit more reluctantly. "What had just happened? How could this be? I thought to myself.

During the weeks that followed, the next time I saw Gavin and Stacy, she was four months pregnant and starting to show a baby bump. If it were possible, she looked even more beautiful. She was positively glowing, and was wearing a lovely pink dress and sandals. I asked them how they were doing and how was the pregnancy, all the while thinking to myself how I wished she was carrying my child. They told me about getting the nursery in order, shopping for baby items and taking Lamaze classes in the future. They both seemed so happy and excited.

Even more pain for me as if they were twisting the knife in my heart.

The next time I saw Stacy she was sitting at the local coffee shop. She was alone and looked sad, as if she had been crying. When I went up to her and greeted her, she looked up at me with tears in her eyes. I sat next to her, deeply concerned.

"What's wrong, why are you crying? Where is Gavin, is the baby okay?"

She could barely speak with all her sobbing, telling me how Gavin cheated on her, he moved out of the apartment, and abandoned her. I knew Gavin was a dirtbag but, to do this to the mother of his child, how could he be so cruel. I wrapped an arm around her, holding her hand, comforting her, try my best to console her, wishing I could take away her pain.

"What will you do now? You can't be alone?"

"My mum will be with me as I get closer to the delivery date. I will just have to take care of myself."

"You are not alone, and I am here for you," I said. I gave her my phone number. "If you need anything day or night I am just a phone call away, please don't hesitate." I held her hand and looked into her eyes as I gently wiped away her tears with the back of my fingers, caressing her soft cheek. She thanked me and hugged me.

That bastard! I slammed my fist on the car steering wheel. How could he do that to her? I was now driving to Sharon's house. I stepped up the driveway towards the house, ready to punch Gavin's lights out.

When my aunt Sharon answered the door I abruptly asked, "Where was Gavin?"

"We have not seen him in the past few days," she said.

"Are you aware of the situation with Stacy and his unborn child? He is now with another women."

She said, "Yes, we do know about what he did, and told him that is no way to treat the mother of his child, that he has a responsibility to her and the child, and that he should have done the honourable thing and married her. We have been trying to contact Stacy to offer our support. We want to assist her in any way possible but, she has not been taking our calls."

I explained how I just met Stacy at the coffee shop and how devastated she was and how I tried to console and comfort her. Sharon now had tears in her eyes, she was so ashamed and disappointed in her son. I comforted my aunt Sharon and told her I will inform Stacy that you want to help her.

I contacted Stacy to convey my aunt's message. She was hesitant at first to accept any help from them.

"You can't go through this alone, we are here for you, I am here for you," I said.

She eventually realised that what I had said was right. I asked her if she was okay and where she was now.

"I am okay. I am at home," she said.

"That's good. Get some rest and take care."

The next weekend I got a call from Stacy, she needed help assembling the baby's crib and asked if I could help her. I wrote down her address and headed over to her place. With my toolbox in hand, I knocked on the door.

When she opened the door, she smiled and said, "I see you have come prepared," as she gazed at the toolbox in my hand. She looked beautiful in her white dress.

I smiled, replying, "It is just a few tools I thought I might need."

I was amazed at how beautiful her home was, her artistic touch everywhere I looked. She had some photos, beautifully framed, hanging on the walls.

"Did you take these photographs?" I asked.

She nodded.

"You really are talented."

She blushed, "Thank you, Did you want anything to drink or eat?"

"Maybe after I set up the crib," I replied. She led me to the nursery. As I passed her bedroom, I glanced inside, seeing the bed that she and Gavin must have made love on.

We stepped into the nursery and I saw the crib in the box. The room was only painted; nothing else had been done. There was no shelving or change table; there was a lot of work still to be done. I told her I would set up the crib and shelves and the rest of the room, even if it took all day.

"That's too much and you can't spend all day just helping me," she protested.

I touched her arm gently. "I want to help you," I smiled at her, gazing into her eyes.

She smiled back and thanked me.

I had everything set up quickly, with some help from Stacy. Good thing I had the right tools for the job.

"Please stay for supper, and I won't take no for an answer," she said.

I replied, "Okay, I would love to." I did not want to go home to my empty flat; I had enjoyed spending the day with her. She made spaghetti with meatballs; I set the table and poured some juice while she plated the food. She was quite a good cook, I enjoyed the meal but, most of all, I enjoyed her company.

We talked and laughed during supper; afterwards I helped to clean up while she relaxed; her feet were sore.

"I can massage your feet, if you want me to," I offered.

She thought about it, then said, "Please, if you don't mind."

I sat on the couch next to her. I removed her sandals and placed her feet on my lap. She had such lovely manicured feet. While holding the top of her foot in one hand, with my other hand I rubbed the length of the arch, then moved to her other foot. Next I held her heel with one hand and gently bent all the toes on one foot back and forth with the other hand, then did the same with the other foot. With both hands I then held each side of her foot and pulled each side outward; then I held the top of her foot in one hand and the back of her heel in the other, and with one hand on either side placed my fingers on the top of her foot, my thumbs on her toe pads stroking down each toe. Then I grasped her Achilles tendon with one hand, my thumb and index fingers moving in a stroking motion down toward her heel, and using both hands, supported her foot from below and extended my fingers using them to make circles around the ankle on either side, moving my fingers around the side of her foot up to her toes to tug, twist, and pull each toe gently, then massaged between each toe. Placing my palms on either side of her foot I gently pulled the right side forward while pushing the left side back, then pushed the left side back while pushing the right side forward, working my hands from her ankle to toes.

With all this attention I was paying her feet, I heard a moan escape her lips, and I looked up to see her eyes roll back and her eyelids close.

When I was done she let out a sigh. "You have magical hands and how did you become so good at massaging feet?"

"A magician never reveals his secrets," I replied. We both laughed. "I have to go, it is getting late."

She looked sad; she hugged me and thanked me for everything; I replied, "It is my pleasure," and kissed her cheek. She blushed and said goodbye.

The next week she called me; she needed a partner for Lamaze classes. over the next few weeks. Would I mind going with her? I was all too willing.

I picked her up from her place. It felt good doing the techniques with her, holding her and encouraging her. It seemed to make both of us feel good.

A week or so later I received a call from her late at night: she was experiencing contractions and she needed to get to the hospital. I rushed over.

At the hospital, the doctor said, "Nothing to worry about Mr. James, it was just Braxton Higgs contractions, everything is fine, you can take your wife home."

Stacy and I exchanged smiles but she didn't contradict him.

A week later, while I was visiting her the baby started kicking. She grabbed my hand and placed it on her swollen belly. I cannot describe how amazing it felt, as she held my hand and the little baby kicked against it.

Gavin had moved on with his life. He and his new girlfriend had gotten engaged. They were making wedding plans. He wanted to be part of the baby's life, though, and asked his family if they would talk to Stacy to see if this was possible.

Stacy would have none of it. He had hurt her and abandoned her in her time of need. My family was not too thrilled that I was involved with a pregnant white woman; they thought she was taking advantage of my good nature and using me; but in time I knew they would come to accept her as they saw how she cared and loved me.

Time went by. As Stacy drew closer to her delivery date, my aunt Sharon and the rest of the family all helped by going along for the check-ups at the doctor and helping with the cooking and cleaning up.

I helped were I could. I helped when she could not drive or needed help with her shopping.

A week before she was due Stacy's mum Joan arrived. I went over to the apartment to check on Stacy, and it was Joan who answered.

"Hi, you must be Ashley. Come in, my daughter has told me a lot about you and how you have helped her during her pregnancy."

I was a bit embarrassed. "It was my pleasure to help your lovely daughter."

The three of us chatted. Joan was a funny, interesting women; she had worked as a bookkeeper for the past forty years and was not planning to retire anytime soon. She was looking forward to becoming a granny and to spoiling her grandchild.

As I was leaving the apartment Joan hugged me and thanked me for keeping an eye on Stacy. "How I wish my daughter had met you first, instead of Gavin."

"Everything happens for a reason and we don't know what the future holds for us," I replied. "Goodbye."

It was the Fourth of July when I received a call from Joan. "Stacy is going into labour, and she needs you, you must please meet us at the hospital."

I headed over, messaging my aunt and the rest of the family on the way. When I arrived I saw Joan in the waiting area.

"How is Stacy?" I asked her.

"Her contractions are twenty minutes apart. She needs you to help with the Lamaze technique."

"But, they won't let me in, I am not her husband or the father of the child."

"Just lie," she said, "Stacy needs you."

I checked with the receptionist and then walked to the maternity ward. There I saw Stacy in bed.

She was in pain, experiencing another contraction. I held her hand, telling her to breathe, going through the technique we had learnt.

The nurse came in to check on her. Stacy was now ten centimetres dilated. It was time. The nurse handed me a pair of scrubs and a mask. The doctor arrived, checked on Stacy. "It's time Stacy, you have to start pushing".

The labour lasted about seven hours.

When we heard the baby cry for the first time the doctor said, "It's a girl," and placed her on Stacy's chest so she could see her, the nurses then took the baby away to be cleaned and checked.

I held Stacy's hand and kissed her forehead telling her what an amazing job she had done and how beautiful the baby is. The baby looked like a miniature version of Stacy, she was gorgeous, perhaps the most beautiful baby I had every laid my eyes on.

I came into the waiting area to tell everyone the good news. They were so excited and relieved. I did not see Gavin. He had not even shown up for the birth of his first child. On the other hand I doubt Stacy would have let him see the baby. I went back to check on Stacy. She was resting.

I saw the little one in her tiny bed all wrapped up. I held her tiny hand; her fingers wrapped around my finger.

I left both to of them to rest; the other family members would go in later to see them. I spent the night in the hospital, sleeping on a chair. In the morning I woke up to see Stacy holding the baby.

I went over to stand next to her bed. "How are you?"

"I'm okay but just a bit tired. Thank you for everything and for being there for me during the labour," she said. "Do you want to hold her?"

"I would love to," I said. Holding her was amazing. I found myself thinking I would protect this child and take care of her forever. "Do you have a name for her?"

"Catherine," she replied.

I kissed little Catherine's forehead.

After two days, mother and daughter went home. Joan spent the next two weeks with them; she had only three weeks' leave. I stopped by on the weekends during this period to check on them both, and saw how much Joan was enjoying being a grandmother. Nonetheless mother and grandmother looked exhausted. The family helped out as much as possible. They say it takes a village to raise a child and, in this case, it felt so with all our help.

When I visited on the weekends, I fed and bathed and changed Catherine. I began to feel as if I was her father. She would look at me as I carried her, and hold my finger. When Joan finally departed to return home, I began to stop over on the weekdays as well as weekends. Stacy was exhausted. I could see that it was tough being a single mother. I had learned how to care for Catherine so that I could take over, giving her some time to rest and do anything else she needed to do. I did some shopping for her and the baby, and bought a few baby clothes and toys as a gift. Stacy loved them and so did Catherine. I felt like a full-time dad with all the time I was spending with Catherine. It was I who was exhausted now, working during the day and helping with the baby the rest of the evening. Stacy watched me with the baby and smiled. She seemed to have a look of love and affection in her eyes when she watched me with Catherine.
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Pub: Dec 21 2020 08:17 UTC
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