Amanda Jane Pt. 01

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This may not be an easy read for some people. There will certainly be no quick thrill here. In fact you will have to wait until Part 2 of the story before any real action takes place.

Most of this first part is character building and setting the scene, but as with any adventure or odyssey (sexual or otherwise) I would hope that for those who persevere, the rewards should be well worth the journey. For this reason, I would definitely recommend reading though Part 1 first.

Words: 4350

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Amanda Jane: Part 1 — First Encounter

No, the title doesn’t refer to one person. It’s the story of what happened when Amanda met Jane or more accurately when Jane and I found Amanda. I came of age around the middle of this year (2017) and this is a true (albeit slightly embellished) account of something that happened a few days after my 18th birthday.

It all started when Jane and I went out for a Friday night drink to celebrate my coming of age. It was just four days after my birthday, which had fallen on a Monday this year. One or other of us had had commitments all through the week, so Jane had promised me a treat on the Friday … I thought she meant a meal out or something. Perhaps she did. It turns out it was something to eat (of sorts), but the ‘or something’ would have been a far more accurate description.

On this particular night I had pulled my hair back into a pony tail. I usually have it in pigtails or bunches because my small size makes me appear very young and I like to feed that image. But as we were going out drinking I felt something a bit more adult might be preferable, and a pony tail is far more adult, isn’t it (not). Well, I didn’t want to go too sophisticated. I know how much Jane appreciates my youthful appearance, and to make me feel more comfortable, Jane tied her hair the same way.

I’m Macey by the way.

I’m a little Irish lass; bottle blonde, under 5ft tall, size 6 with an A cup figure. I’m 18 and bisexual, but my preference is for the ladies, especially Jane. As I’m very small, I often get mistaken for being much younger, so when we go out I always have to take my ID with me, but to ease my embarrassment, Jane usually gets the drinks. I pay my way as much as I can of course, but Jane is fairly well off so she doesn’t mind picking up the tab more often than her fair share, and she tells me that I pay my part in other ways. I wonder what she could mean by that? 😉

Jane is my best friend at Uni.

She is about average height with a stunning figure, beautiful boobs that are just the right size (C cup) and very firm. She has long dark, almost black hair and very attractive features. Her complexion is faultless and she has the most wonderful deep hypnotic eyes, and beautiful full lips, a lot like Angelina Jolie’s. There’s hardly a guy on the campus (tutors included) that wouldn’t want to have her wrapped around his cock (except maybe the gay guys – and even some of those give her a second look), but Jane isn’t interested in the boys. She is strictly a girl’s girl. She is a fully committed lesbian, and she is never short of a partner.

Jane has what is generally known as ‘the gift of the gab’ but with Jane it’s much more than that. In Ireland they would say she’d kissed the blarney stone. She could talk the pants off the Vestal Virgins (and probably has done too), but she also has a certain charisma about her; she seems to be able to get anyone to do almost anything she wants. In days of old I’m sure she would have been accused of witchcraft.

Jane is a self declared twenty-something. I don’t think anyone knows her true age. If someone asks she will raise a hand out level and waver it around, pulling a face and saying “Twenty-something.” We don’t even know how long she has been at Uni. She was there when I arrived, but she and I have been friends for almost a year now, and fuck buddies for almost all of that time.

She has this private little club (members by invitation only) and she recruits new blood on a regular basis. It didn’t take any effort for her to recruit me though. I had already had my first taste of lesbian sex long before coming to University, but I can’t divulge any details of that here for obvious reasons. Anyway, part of the appeal of Jane’s club is that we occasionally have what can only be described as ‘competitions’ to see who can write the most raunchy story to get the others horny (sex usually follows), and we give each other marks out of ten (for the story of course – not the sex). This will be one of those stories and I hope to score top marks.

But I digress.

So anyway, Jane and I were dressed in our best glad-rags. She was in a slinky black two-piece trouser suit, the top showing plenty of cleavage, and the legs cropped half way up the calf. My outfit was much simpler; a semi-transparent peach, button front blouse and a short black wrap-around skirt.

She took me to this popular pub a little way from the university halls of residence. It wasn’t our regular haunt but we’d been there a few güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri times before. We got in there and the place was rammed. Jane turned to me and asked if we should try somewhere else, but I said no, I wanted to stay. She could see I had spotted a sweet black girl sitting alone and playing on her mobile. I’d seen her around the campus many times and I thought she was lovely, but I’d always been too shy to even say hello.

This particular evening, she was wearing a Red frilly cross-over top displaying an alluring cleavage and her beautiful bare arms, and it was obvious from the way her full breasts pushed the material out, that she was bra-less. I was mesmerised. “Friend of yours?” Jane asked.

“I’ve seen her around a few times, but I’ve never met her,” I admitted.

Jane gave me one of her knowing looks and just said “OK.”

All the other tables were occupied so we went over and asked if the empty seats were taken. “Fine at the moment” the girl said. She didn’t look very happy but she didn’t take much notice of us, so I sat down and Jane went to the bar.

“I know you from somewhere don’t I?” she asked me.

“I’ve seen you around the campus,” I replied. I thought; well hoped more like, that she was going to strike up a conversation, but she went back to playing with her phone.

Her bare shoulders looked so smooth and soft and inviting. I just wanted to kiss them, and as we sat down I could see that her top stopped short of her skirt, displaying a beautifully slender bare midriff. I would have loved to kiss that too and I was beginning to feel a familiar warm tingle in my groin. I knew I had to look away lest I might scare her off.

She appeared to be of African descent, quite young I thought, probably about the same age as me. The dark chocolate-brown skin of her face and shoulders shone in the light, as did her black hair which was brushed straight back, exposing a large rounded forehead, delicately small ears, and a neck so invitingly dark and slender. Her eyes appeared to me as large, mysterious dark pools (I could so easily become lost in those beautiful dark eyes) and she had high pronounced cheekbones and a small neat nose (unusual for a girl of her apparent race) and her mouth and jaw were extended forward. But the real temptation for me was her lips; such beautiful full lips, just begging to be kissed.

The overall image was a slightly Neanderthal appearance but that’s not to say she was unpleasant looking … far from it. I thought she was gorgeous. I asked if she was waiting for someone and she looked up and gave me a look that seemed to say ‘What do you think?’, but quickly realised that she was being rude, and that I was only trying to make polite conversation. “Supposed to be…” she said sadly, adding, “but it doesn’t look like they’re coming,” in what seemed to be a distinct Liverpudlian accent, as she continued to prod at her phone.

Jane came back with two glasses of Torres Natureo alco-free red wine, and sat down at the table with us. She looked at me, wide eyed, and gestured with her eyes toward the girl, but I just shrugged so she struck up a random conversation with me.

We started to talk about fictitious boyfriends, just loudly enough for her to hear. “So tell me about Andy then,” she began. We chatted for a minute or two and I could tell the girl was trying not to eavesdrop, but she just couldn’t help it.

“He has a beard doesn’t he?” Jane asked.

“Yes,” I replied. Jane made a sort of ‘Hmphh’ noise, and took another swig of her drink. “Why?” I asked. “You went out with a guy with a beard once, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she said, “but never again.”

“Why ever not?” I asked, sounding surprised. “Don’t you like guys with beards now?” I knew what was coming. I’d heard this joke a few times before.

“Oh, it isn’t that I don’t like the beards,” she said, “I think they ‘look’ fine. It’s just that they make me laugh.”

“What?” I responded on cue.

“Yes” she replied. “When he French-kissed me.”

“What?” I said again, sounding totally puzzled. “How do you mean?” I asked.” The girl was taking a drink of her wine and trying not to listen in but we could both tell she was just as intrigued as I appeared to be.

“Well…” Jane said, timing her line perfectly, “when he French-kissed me, his whiskers tickled the tops of my thighs and I couldn’t help but laugh.”

The poor girl spluttered in her drink, spilling half of it. “Oh, I’m sorry” Jane said, dipping her hand into her bag to pull out a surprisingly easy to find tissue. She handed it to the girl who took the tissue and quickly wiped her face, looked at Jane in stunned silence for a few seconds, then stifled another laugh, pretending to cough.

“Are you OK?” Jane asked, innocently.

“Yes. Thank you,” the girl replied, wiping the table after she’d finished drying her face. “It was my fault,” she said. “I shouldn’t have been listening.”

“Don’t worry,” Jane told her, a wry smile on her face and a quick glance to güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri me. “It happens.” “I’m Jane,” she said introducing herself, “and this is my friend Macey.”

“Hello,” the girl said. “I’m Aman…” she began, and then corrected herself. “I’m Mandy.”

“It’s OK,” Jane told her, with one of her endearing smiles. “You can be whoever you like,” and she gave a little laugh.

The girl looked embarrassed. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Jane said in low purring voice that sounded inappropriately sexy, “It’s just my way. I’m afraid I can be a bit of a tease, but I shouldn’t do it with people that I don’t know. I’m really sorry,” she repeated.

“That’s OK,” she said. “My name is Amanda but I think it’s a bit pretentious so I prefer to be called Mandy.”

“Well, Mandy is a nice name,” Jane said brightly, “But so is Amanda. I think it suits you,” she added as she smiled at the girl. “So what are you doing here Amanda?” Jane asked. “It is OK if we call you Amanda, is it? It’s such a lovely name.”

“Sure. That’s fine,” the girl replied, with a broad smile. She seemed genuinely pleased that someone was interested in her. “I’m waiting for some friends who were supposed to be here half an hour ago…” she said, “but it looks like they’re not coming.”

“Maybe they’ve been held up?” Jane suggested, encouragingly. “If you have nothing else to do, why not sit and have a chat with us while you wait? We’re only out for a drink.”

Amanda smiled, clearly more comfortable now. We exchanged some polite conversation, and I asked her what course she was on. She told us she was studying performing arts, and we told her about our courses.

Very soon, Jane managed to turn the conversation back around to boys again, and we asked if she was dating anyone. She said she was between boyfriends at the moment. Jane said it must be nice to be ‘between’ boyfriends, using her fingers to indicate quote marks, and that caused a bit of a giggle again.

“Look, why don’t I get you another drink?” Jane offered, noticing that Amanda’s glass was now empty, “After all it was my fault that you spilled the first one.”

“That’s kind of you,” Amanda replied, “I don’t really have enough money to buy another one. I can only usually afford one drink each time we go out.”

“Well don’t you worry about the drinks Amanda,” Jane told her, “I have a fairly healthy income, so the drinks are on me this evening… and it’s Macey’s birthday,” she added, “That’s why we’re out celebrating.”

“Oh that’s lovely,” Amanda said. “Congratulations Macey. Is it a milestone?”

“How did you guess?” I asked her.

“It’s not difficult to tell,” she said. “I’m guessing you’re 16 today is it?”

“No actually it was 18, four days ago,” I told her.

“My goodness” she said. “You must be joking. You hardly even look 16.”

“I know. I have to carry my ID around everywhere with me,” I sighed. “Jane has to get our drinks most of the time because I always get challenged. Would you like to see my driver’s licence?” I asked jokingly.

“No,” she laughed “I believe you.”

From where I was sitting, I could see Jane at the bar with three glasses of wine, and a small shot, which she tipped into one of the wine glasses. The barman gave her a sideways look, but she just smiled at him and took a small swig from the spiked drink, so he went off happy. Amanda had her back to the bar, so she didn’t see any of this. She was facing the door, obviously prepared to look up each time the door opened, hoping to see her friends coming in, but that never happened.

When Jane returned from the bar she was careful to pass one particular drink to Amanda, who picked it up and took a small swig. “Ooohh! This tastes really nice, what is it?”

“It’s Merlot,” Jane told her. “It was Australian Merlot that you wanted wasn’t it?”

“I don’t think I’ve had the Australian one before,” Amanda said “It’s really nice.”

“Well it’s a bit more expensive than the French one,” Jane told her, “but… well, we’re out celebrating so what the hell.”

Unbeknown to Amanda, Jane had spiked her drink with a shot of vodka while we two were both still on alcohol-free wine. It was obvious that she wasn’t used to drinking. If she only went out now and then, and she could only afford one drink when she did, then she’d probably already had about three times as much as she usually did.

Jane leaned over to me and whispered. “I’m going to try something,” she said “Just play along.”

“Why were you whispering?” Amanda asked.

“Oh nothing,” Jane told her. “It must have been something” Amanda asked, sounding suspicious.

“Well…” Jane admitted, “it’s just a little game that we play sometimes, but I don’t know if you would want to play along.”

“Try me,” Amanda suggested, audaciously.

“OK,” Jane told her, “Sometimes we like to play truth or dare.”

“What sort of dare?” Amanda asked. We could tell she was intrigued.

“Well… let’s start with a simple one,” Jane said. güvenilir bahis şirketleri “Macey?” she asked of me, “How many boys have you kissed?”

“Oh,” I said “I don’t know. Probably 4 or 5.”

“Is that all?” Amanda said, sounding shocked.

“You don’t have to answer that Macey,” Jane interrupted.

“Sorry,” Amanda apologised, clearly embarrassed that she had spoken out of turn.

“OK,” Jane said, “I’ve only kissed 3. One was my brother, one was that guy I was telling you about with the beard,” we sniggered, “and the other one was my dad.”

“That’s not a boy!” I complained, laughing.

“Yes. That’s not fair,” Amanda added, laughing as she joined in.

“Well it’s only two then,” Jane said flippantly.

“OK Amanda, how about you?” Jane asked.

“Me?” she replied proudly, “I suppose it must be about 20 or more. I can’t remember all of them.”

“Well you win that round then,” Jane told her. Amanda smiled a smug, slightly intoxicated smile.

“Now for round two!” Jane smiled, and shot me a mischievous grin. “Macey, how many girls have you kissed?”

“Oh! Now you’re asking. I suppose about 15?” I said in an uncertain tone. Amanda looked at me in surprise.

“Well I think I’ve kissed about 20 girls,” Jane told her.

“Oh, come on. It must be more than that,” I said, giving her a playful push.

Amanda looked from one to the other of us. “You two are gay aren’t you!” She looked a little uneasy.

“I’m gay,” Jane told her, with a smile. “She’s bisexual,” she added, nodding towards me. “Does that make you feel uncomfortable?” Jane asked.

“No. Of course not,” Amanda replied, but suddenly the smile had fallen from her face and she avoided our eyes. We could tell she was lying.

“What do you find uncomfortable about it?” Jane asked her softly.

“Not sure,” she admitted, after a pause. “I just think it’s a little strange.”

“I don’t find it strange at all,” Jane told her. “I find it perfectly natural. You go out with boys don’t you?” she asked.

“Yes of course I do,” Amanda replied.

“And when you go out with a boy,” Jane continued, “sooner or later you might find yourself in bed?”

“Well… I suppose so.”

“And if you go to bed with a boy…” she paused for effect, “it’s entirely possible that you could end up pregnant is it not?”

“I don’t think so,” Amanda told us. “I’m on the pill.”

“OK. Let me ask you a different question then. How many times have you been to bed with a boy, and been disappointed?”

Jane was now asking very personal questions of a girl that we had only just met less than 30 minutes earlier.

I feel sure that if I started asking questions like this, I would have had my face slapped by now, but Jane seemed to manage to get away with it. Amanda looked at her with a puzzled expression. “Only a couple,” she said, “but 2 out of 3 isn’t a very good average is it?” she added, looking a bit glum.

Jane smiled at her kindly.

“Can you see what the problem is here Amanda?” she asked.

“No? What’s the problem?”

“The problem my love…” Jane began, as she reached out to touch Amanda’s hand, which was idly fiddling with the wine-stained tissue on the table. Amanda didn’t pull away, which amazed me. “The problem is this. A man doesn’t know his way around a girl’s body. At least, not the way that another woman does.” She waited a few seconds. “The other problem of course,” she added, sitting back, “is that when a man is finished having his fun with you, he can leave you pregnant.” She waited again as Amanda stared, her mouth slightly open. “If you sleep with a woman, she not only gives you a better time, because she instinctively knows what you want, but there’s no chance of getting pregnant is there?”

Amanda looked at us both uneasily but Jane chose to ignore this and continued. “Now. We’ve played truth,” Jane told her. “How would you like to play dare?”

“What sort of dare?” Amanda asked, repeating her question from earlier.

“First you have to answer my last question. How many girls have you kissed Amanda?”

“None,” she replied, indignantly.

“And of those none,” Jane went on, ignoring the negative result, “did you enjoy any of them better or worse than you enjoyed kissing the boys?”

“That’s a daft question!” Amanda said.

“Of course it is,” Jane agreed, smiling. “You’ve never kissed a girl… so how can you possibly compare?” She left Amanda to think about the question for a moment.

Then Jane came out with something that totally shocked me. “Are you cold?” she asked the girl.

“No! Why?” Amanda replied.

Jane glanced at Amanda’s chest and nodded toward her. “You look cold” she said, with a wry smile.

Amanda looked down and it was only then that we both noticed the hard, button nipples sticking out from the front of her top. “Stop it!” she objected with a laugh, quickly colouring up and looking embarrassed as she raised her arms up in front of her to hide the stiff nipples.

I would never have thought you could see a black girl blush, but clearly she ‘was’ blushing. Jane smiled kindly and I had to stifle a giggle. As much as she would have liked to deny it, Amanda was clearly getting aroused by all this talk of kissing, and the idea of getting intimate with another girl.

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