Amanda's date does not go to plan.
This entry is part 15 of 24 in the series The Amanda Chronicles

Amanda’s date does not go to plan.

Amanda – Boys

Amanda’s Rules

1. If it’s not on, it’s not on.
2. If I say stop, you stop.
3. I go on top.
4. This is just fun, I’m not your girlfriend.

The stool squeals in protest as I throw myself on it. Humph! Boys! Unbelievable. I stare at my lover-to-be. It has taken me weeks to organise this, including talking my way out of detention and getting Mum onside, but this is not what I had planned. Here I am, the hottest girl in school, blonde femme fatale supreme, sitting in the kitchen with my mother while my paramour is in the lounge with my dad staring transfixed at some blokes mucking about on the television.

And the evening had started so well. Patrick had arrived on time – always a good sign with boys. As usual, there had been some initial awkwardness, but everyone had relaxed by the time Mum served the roast.

Dad had been susing Patrick out as he still thinks no boy could ever be good enough for me. I’m still his sweet innocent little baby girl. He even likes to pretend that the boys sleep in the spare room – bless him. Of course, Mum knows better. I won’t complain; while I have my regulars, having a different boy stay over every week must be confronting for him.

Everything had been okay until Dad mentioned football and discovered that he and Patrick followed the same team. Well, Mum and I were then subjected to a non-stop commentary about who was the best goal kicker, someone else’s dodgy knee, how weak the other teams were, etcetera, etcetera, blah, blah, blah. I caught Mum rolling her eyes several times. I wanted to tell them to get a room. Unfortunately, they did.

Apparently, there was some big match on. Mum says there is always some big match on. Dad invited Patrick to watch it with him and the next thing I know they are both in the lounge in front of the big screen.

When I tried to distract Patrick by sitting on his lap and giving him my most seductive cuddle his only response was “You’re in the way babe” without even taking his eyes off the game. Now I am in the kitchen watching Mum do the dishes.

“Mum. Do boys ever grow up?”

She looks up from the sink, towards the lounge, then at me.


Just then there is a roar from the crowd on the television, and cheers from our boys the excitement clear on their faces. I had hoped that by now Patrick would have been in my room looking at me like that.

“Don’t worry honey. It will be over soon. I look forward to Friday nights too you know. With you otherwise occupied I get to have some time with your father. So I know how you must be feeling.”

This is news to me. I hadn’t considered that Mum might look forward to Friday nights as much as I did – and probably for the same reason.


“Awesome game babe. We smashed ’em. You should have watched it.”

He doesn’t realise how close he is to being used as a kick bag for my karate practice. I swallow my anger and reach up to kiss him. One advantage of being petite is that all boys are tall.

“I’m so glad you had a good time sweetie, but don’t you want to play with me now?” I purr seductively while running a finger down his chest.

“Yeah, sure babe.” Such enthusiasm. Not.

We are finally in my room and I should tell him that the only reason he is even here is for a revenge fuck to get back at his absent girlfriend Kelly Bitch Face, but I don’t. Instead, I need to read him my rules.

“Listen. You need to understand something.”

“Sure, whatever babe” he mumbles distractedly while groping my boob.

I grab his hand and twist it back into a lock.


Good, I have his attention.

“If it’s not on, it’s not on. I go on top. This is just fun.”

Better leave off the next bit about not being his girlfriend; I don’t want him thinking about Kelly Bitch Face right now. He looks a bit lost at this turn of events but nods in agreement. The formalities out of the way, I melt into his arms and whisper in his ear.

“Let the games begin.”

I undo the buttons of his shirt, glancing at him coquettishly while lingering over each one as if I have never done this before. Ripping it off and tossing it aside, I drop into a squat, undo his jeans and pull them and his boxers down in one swift movement. His cock is at eye level. Looking up into his eyes I give it a slow lick ensuring that my tongue stud makes contact. Boys love that. Standing, I push him back and he falls onto my bed.

Hmmmmm, not bad. Naked, hard, horizontal – all in under a minute. Not a personal best, but who’s counting? He lies there looking at me helplessly. I might have stunned him.

Pulling my dress over my head by its hem, I shake out my hair and give him a twirl. My only attire is my piercings (ears, tongue, nipples and navel) and my smallest of black lacy g-strings. Slowly removing my nickers I give him a little dance and show him my sexiest moves.

I approach the bed and slowly crawl up between his legs I imagine that I’m a Lion advancing on a baby Gazelle. It must be working – he looks a little scared. Maintaining eye contact I lick the inside of his thigh with just the tip of my tongue; he tastes saltly. I breathe in his scent. Hmmm, Boy. Yum.

Reaching his cock, I take a moment to admire the view. He is not as long as Mark, or as thick as Jordan, but very nice all the same. Giving him a shy smile, I lick the tip of my tongue up his cock, until I reach the head then swallow as much of it as I can. I commence slowly bobbing up and down while stoking him with my hand, all the while using my tongue on his cock head. I feel him swell in my mouth. He likes this. Ha ha. What a surprise. Better not get him too excited. Time to move on.

Using my tongue I find the condom I had placed in my cheek earlier and position it in my mouth over the head of his cock, then on the down stroke, rolling it on with my lips for as far as I can swallow him. Finishing with my hand, I move back and admire my work. Good job Amanda.

Patrick lies there looking at me surprised.

“How did you do that?”


That’s a trick I learnt long ago. No boy has ever said “No” to having a condom put on ‘no hands’.

I straddle him and sit back, using one hand for support, the other rubs the tip of his cock around my opening before impaling myself. I slide down him until reaching bottom, then thrust my hips to rub my clit against his body. Oh, that is nice. Bending forward to kiss him, he slides out of me, but not all the way; I don’t want to lose him just yet. Our tongues entwine. I contract my pelvic floor to give him a squeeze.

Breaking the kiss and sitting up, I slide back onto him. Throwing my head back, I ride him. Yes, this is going to be good. He is so hard inside of me. I’m so close. My clit is….


What? No… Noooooo! I look down at him but I don’t need to see his face to know he has cum. I can already feel him deflating inside of me. Okay. It happens. I can handle it.

Bending forward to give him a kiss and he falls out of me. I make a trail of little kisses down his body until I reach his now flaccid cock. Removing the condom, I lick him clean and suck the last drop out, then sit up and empty the condom into my mouth. It tastes of latex and lube but that is worth it for the effect. He watches fascinated as my tongue plays with his cum before I swallow it all.

I lean in to kiss him but he turns his head away. Don’t give me that shit boy. I glare at him.

“It’s not gay to taste your own cum. Especially when you released it inside of me.”

He looks doubtful. Fine! I’ll try another approach. I soften my face and act all shy.

“That was lovely sweetie, but I would really like it if you would go down on me now.”

“Oh. Okay.”

A man of few words. Whatever does Kelly see in him?

I straddle his head, lower myself onto his face and lean against the wall at the end of the bed. His tongue starts to lick my pussy. Oh, yes. That is what I need. He flicks my clit sending little tremors through me. Hmmm. Nice. He stops… then resumes. Oh, he is teasing me. Naughty boy. He stops… then resumes. I’m liking this. He stops… … …

Wait. He’s not teasing. He has actually stopped. I look down and his eyes are closed, his breathing regular. He is asleep.

Typical! If a girl wants something done, she has to do it herself. I get off sleeping brutie and lie on my back beside him. I gently pinch a nipple. It feels almost as hard as the metal through it; they have been so sensitive since I had them pieced. A warm surge goes through me all the way to my clit. The other hand is between my legs. I concentrate on my favourite fantasy.

Jordan is between my legs, his tongue stroking me. I feel his tongue stud rolling around my clit. He knows what I like. I run my hand through his soft hair as I pull him into me. He has such well-defined muscles in his shoulders and back. And that arse is so tight!

Bec joins him between my legs. They kiss deeply then they both go down on me. The feeling of both their tongues exploring my pussy is intense. They come up to meet my lips and we share a three-way kiss.

I bring my hand up from between my legs and suck my fingers clean before returning them to their task.

They taste of me. Our tongues entwine.

They break away and kiss their way down me. Bec sucks on a nipple, her tongue playing with my piercing. I can see that she is pleasing herself with her spare hand. Our eyes meet and she stares longingly at me without breaking contact with my nipple. Jordan licks my clit just the way I like it. His pace quickens. That feels so good! Oh, yes.

Oh, yes. Ohhhhhhh! Ohhhhhhhhh!


Uhhhh? Waking to the morning light, there is a familiar, yet still disconcerting, momentary “Who’s in my bed?” feeling before the events of the previous night come back.

Patrick is still sound asleep. Rolling out, I put on his shirt leaving one too few buttons undone and head for the kitchen. I smell coffee. Mum is already up; she is wearing Dad’s shirt – Hey, that’s my trick. Boys go wild seeing you in their shirt with morning-after hair. She looks happy.

“Someone has had a good night.”

“Morning sweetie. And you?”

I roll my eyes in reply.

“Ah.” she sighs, then takes their breakfast and leaves the kitchen for me to make our coffees.

Patrick does not stir when I return and place his coffee on the bedside table. I stroke his hair, it feels so soft. Watching him sleep; he looks kind of cute.

“Morning honey. Coffee’s ready. I made it just like you – sweet and strong.”

Nothing. Nada. Zip. The only indication of life is the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. I straddle him and put my tongue in his ear. There is a moan as he groggily pushes me away and rolls over.

Okay. I’ll just read Scientific American until he wakes up. Oh, look. The Mars Rover has found possible evidence of water.


Showered, dressed and packed for training, I stare down at the unconscious lump in my bed; his long cold coffee untouched beside him. If it had been Jordan, by now we would have woken, made love, gone for a run, showered together, shared breakfast and been at karate early for some extra practice. I almost feel sorry for Kelly having such a useless boyfriend.

Pulling the duvet off him, I shake his leg.

“Wake up. I’m going to be late. You need to go. Now!”

His clothes are scatted about my floor; I throw them at him.


Oh. Perhaps I shouldn’t have thrown the shoe.


We kiss at the front door as he is about to leave. Dad’s gone to golf and Mum makes herself scarce.

“Thanks for dinner babe.” he mumbles. “Maybe we can do something next week, perhaps.”

Uh, oh. As if. Just the thought chills me.

“Honey. We talked about this. I don’t do relationships. I’ll never forget last night”. That’s for sure. “But it’s not going to happen again. We’ll always have our memories.”

He looks crestfallen but says “Okay”.

I wave as he drives away. Now where’s my phone? There is some serious texting to be done.


All people, places and events depicted are real, just not in this universe.
© Paul Shipley

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