Free Amanda's Young Men by Madeline Moore Page A

straight black hair. Paul’s hands moved as if he wanted to shield himself but he fought the impulse. He had a runner’s body, with long lean muscles, not bulky ones like Roger had had. Lower on his chest, she could see his ribs, but his hairless pectorals were hard shelves. His belly was slightly hollowed but nicely ridged. No hair there, either.
    Amanda licked her lips. ‘Kneel at my feet. Take my shoes off.’
    Reverently, he obeyed. If he feared having his hand pinned down by her heel again, he didn’t show it. But they’d already played that game and Amanda had no desire to repeat herself.
    ‘Now, take my right stocking off – just the right one, and be careful not to put a run in it.’
    His fingers trembled. He bit his lower lip in concentration. The ‘cling’ at the top of her stocking seemed to confuse him at first but, once he got the hang of it, he folded the lacy band over, then over again, slowly working his way down Amanda’s long leg, over her trim ankle and off her delicate little foot.
    ‘You may kiss my toes.’
    His lips pursed and touched the little toe of her left foot.
    ‘You may suck and lick.’ She lay back and luxuriated in the warm slithery wet sensations. As she’d suspected, he was good at it, either by experience or imagination she couldn’t say, although if pressed to guess she’d pick the latter. God bless these inexperienced boys with their pockets of untapped talent. They were gold.
    Amanda was tingling all over when she’d had enough. ‘Stand up,’ she commanded. ‘Hands out, wrists together.’
    Without standing, Amanda wrapped her stocking in a figure eight around his wrists and tied a firm knot. ‘Put the head of your cock here.’ She drew her left foot up on to the couch and pointed to her nylon-sheathed right knee.
    It was difficult for the poor lad, but Amanda’s emerging philosophy decreed that it was good for a boy to work for his treats. He had to cling to the back of the couch with both bound hands, kneel on one knee on the couch and splay his other leg wide, foot to the floor, and arch his back. Amanda didn’t help him.
    When his dark-pink glistening knob was in position, Amanda crossed her left leg over it, trapping it in the soft naked hollow behind her knee. ‘Fuck me there,’ she ordered.
    After a dozen or so swivelling thrusts, he seemed to get the hang of it and began to speed up.
    Amanda reached behind her neck and undid the tie of her halter. The dress slithered down to her waist.
    Paul stared at her naked breasts. He missed a beat. She cupped her right breast, compressed it to extrude her nipple a little and pulled his head down. ‘Suck on my nipple. Suck it hard and deep. Make me feel it.’
    He obeyed but his position, bent over, working his hips at an awkward angle and clinging desperately to the back of the couch, led to the inevitable. He tumbled to the floor.
    ‘You aren’t very good at that, are you?’ Amanda allowed a trace of displeasure to show in her voice.
    He looked up at her, his expression heartbreakingly contrite. ‘Sorry, Ms Amanda.’
    ‘We’ll try something easier.’
    ‘Thank you, Ms Amanda.’
    Inspired by the instructions Trevor had given her, Amanda said, ‘Kneel on the floor facing the couch, hands on it but knees back a bit and spread wide.’
    Amanda stood, sucked her tummy in and wriggled her hips. Her dress hissed to the floor.
    Paul knee-walked himself into position
    Amanda pulled a tube of ‘tingling personal lubricant’ and a package of latex surgical gloves from under a cushion. Behind Paul’s back, where he couldn’t see her, Amanda pushed the six-inch heel of one of her shoes into a latex glove and into its index finger, before putting a pair of the stretchy gloves on to her hands.
    ‘Here,’ she said, ‘suck on this.’ She set the other shoe on the cushion in front of his face, its heel towards his mouth.
    Obediently, Paul took the metal spike between his lips and began to suck.
    ‘And maintain