Free Amanda's Young Men by Madeline Moore Page B

the position,’ she instructed.
    He jerked when she squeezed cold lube along the full hot quivering length of his shaft. Amanda felt as if she was radiating. It was – and wasn’t – the familiar glow of lust. It was all that, and more. It was the
power
. It elevated her. She had a toy, a living breathing toy, totally in her command. She was a puppeteer, with a human puppet. Whatever she wanted to do to it, she could. Whatever she fancied it doing to her, it would.
    With absolutely no consideration for Paul’s pleasure, though he doubtless enjoyed her touch, she explored his length with her oily latex-covered fingertips. Its shape wasn’t round in cross-section, but more like a slightly squished circle, with a thick ridge running up its underside. Its head was bulbous and hard, even harder than its shaft. With it resting gently on her palm, she could feel its pulse.
    Paul moaned.
    Moving with deliberate slowness, intending to make it maddening for the boy, Amanda caressed him from his fine black pubic hair to the very tip of his shaft, ending with a gloss of her slippery palm over its head.
    Paul was rigid and quivering, drooling around the heel he held between his lips.
    One-handed, Amanda squeezed more lube on to her free hand’s sheathed index finger. Paul had tight hard buns. It had to be all the deep knee-bends his work demanded. She worked her hand edgewise between his cheeks and found the clenched knot of his bottom with her finger’s tip.
    Paul shuddered and made a questioning sound, which Amanda ignored. She ringed his anus, spreading lube, and then squeezed more on to the rubber-shielded tip of her shoe’s spiked heel.
    ‘There, there. This won’t hurt, not much anyway. Be brave. Just relax. Amanda will make it nice for you, Paul.’
    With infinite care, Amanda pressed the covered spike against the pinhole pucker of his anus. A fraction of an inch at a time, the invader sank into his flesh. ‘Tell me if it’s terrible,’ she said.
    Paul went stiff and held his breath. As Amanda slowly impaled him, she stroked his manhood with an increasingly firm grip, picking up the pace each time. The muscles in his back twitched. His neck knotted. He had to be in emotional turmoil. Did he love or hate being buggered by the heel of one of the shoes he doted on? Likely, both.
    ‘Breathe,’ she commanded.
    He did as he was told, his breath a ragged panting sound that further charged the air between them. If he was tortured by what the hand holding the shoe was doing to him, it was obvious he loved what the other hand was up to.
    When two or so inches of the spike were embedded in Paul’s bum, Amanda relented and tugged it gradually back out, until only its tip was still inside him, and then pushed it back in again.
    It wasn’t easy, maintaining one rhythm with the hand that was jerking him off and another with the one that was buggering him but Amanda didn’t have to keep it up for long. It was so much fun, kicking off a night of passion by showing her new lover just how expertly she could bring him off, knowing there’d be umpteen more orgasms for him, and plenty for her, before the night was through. This wastefulness was positively decadent, and she loved it.
    Paul arched, dropped the shoe from his mouth, gurgled and climaxed. She just managed to catch his ejaculate in a wet-wipe and spare her couch.
    Amanda slipped the slim heel free of his body, and gave him a count of ten to recover. ‘Sit on the edge of the couch. Spread your legs and lie back. Put your hands behind your neck and keep them there.’
    Warily, but without protest, Paul did as he was told. Amanda had to grin. His face was crimson and he was doing his best to avoid her eyes but, at the same time, his gaze was avid on her naked and voluptuous figure. Maybe he’d seen the bare bodies of a girl or two of his own age, but, just as young bodies possess a certain quality that they lose as they mature, so do mature bodies gain different earthier