I was still lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to understand why Amanda had been driving me absolutely crazy. Her presence lingered in my mind like a warm, impossible melody I couldn't forget. Slowly, exhaustion overtook me, and I drifted off into a restless sleep, though my thoughts were still tangled with images of her.
As the days passed, I found myself actively avoiding Amanda. I came home from school later than usual, locked myself in my room, and tried to convince myself that out of sight, out of mind would work. But it didn't. My mind replayed the smallest gestures—the way she smiled, the way she moved around the house. Avoidance didn't erase her. It only made her presence more vivid.
Everything changed when I fell sick.
Amanda had to take care of me during those days. She would come into my room to check my temperature, bring my meals, and make sure I took my medicine. I tried to pretend I was asleep each time, hiding under the blanket like a child. She would gently wake me, her soft voice calling my name, and I would reluctantly sit up, my eyes fixed on the food or medicine, too nervous to look at her.
Even in illness, her presence was overwhelmingly comforting. I found myself wishing for her to stay just a little longer, to linger by my side while I recovered.
One night, I was already feeling much better, but Amanda still came in with my usual tray of food and medicine. The room smelled faintly of strawberries, just like always, and I couldn't stop my heart from racing. She placed the tray on the small table next to my bed, preparing to leave.
Something inside me snapped. I didn't know why, but I reached out and lightly grabbed the hem of her nightwear, just enough to make her pause.
Amanda turned around, and I felt my eyes welling up. For some reason, the tears I didn't expect came spilling out uncontrollably. I tried to speak, but my throat felt tight, and I couldn't form words.
"Octavia, what's wrong?" Amanda asked, concern flooding her voice. Her hand instinctively reached for mine, and the warmth of her touch grounded me.
I clutched her gently and whispered, "I'm… I'm scared. Can you stay here with me?"
I didn't understand why I was scared—normally, I laughed at horror movies and felt invincible—but there I was, trembling in my bed, needing comfort. Amanda didn't hesitate. She smiled softly and nodded, agreeing to stay the night.
She settled behind me, and we arranged ourselves in a cuddling position. I insisted on being the big spoon, claiming it made me feel more comforted. She adjusted without protest, letting me wrap my arms around her, and I immediately felt a sense of calm wash over me. My tears slowly faded, replaced by a quiet warmth and safety I hadn't realized I craved.
Hours passed, but sleep eluded me. I lay there, arms wrapped loosely around her waist, heart pounding from the closeness. Her steady breathing was a rhythmic anchor in the chaos of my mind. Every small movement she made, every little shift in her weight, sent shivers through me.
I couldn't help but let my mind wander. I imagined holding her hand, brushing a strand of hair from her face, and making her laugh. Each thought made my chest tighten, a mixture of longing and wonder that I didn't fully understand.
Amanda stirred slightly, and I froze, unsure if I had overstepped by leaning closer in my thoughts. She didn't wake, her breathing remaining steady and calm. I realized that even in these quiet moments, the intensity of my feelings for her was growing, a mixture of admiration, gratitude, and an attraction I couldn't name.
I rested my head back against her shoulder, letting myself feel the comfort of her presence. It was enough to calm my fears, enough to make the darkness of the night feel safe. I whispered a quiet "thank you" into the air, though I wasn't sure she heard.
Eventually, I gave up trying to fall asleep and simply stayed there, savoring the closeness. My thoughts were alive with all the things I wanted to say, all the little moments I wanted to share with her. And for the first time, I realized that maybe avoiding her wasn't going to work. Maybe I needed her in my life more than I had admitted, and maybe, just maybe, it wasn't about out of sight, out of mind—it was about allowing myself to feel, to notice, and to care.
I closed my eyes, letting the rhythm of her breathing guide me. The fear, the longing, and the awe all swirled together in a way that made my chest ache—but it was a good ache.
I slowly began to move my hand up so i could feel her boobs
As i felt her boobs i paused
Waiting to hear a protest or see if she would push my hands away
Nothing
Just the sound of her steady breathing
I wondered if she was asleep
I squeezed her boobs lightly
They were so soft
I started squeezing them more
With both hands this time
And i heard Amanda's breathing increase
She wasn't asleep..
I located her nipple through the night wear and started rubbing them with my thumb
I swear i heard Amanda let out a little moan
I started kissing her neck
I started moving my kisses
From her neck down to her shoulder
Then i pulled down the sleeve of her nightwear
I turned her to face me
Her eyes were wide open
I kissed her
And she kissed me back
I pulled down her nightwear making her boobs visible
I leaned down and took one in my mouth while squeezing the other one with my hand
I flickered my tongue on her nipple and she gasped
I slowly moved my hand down to her panties
There was none
…To be continued.