Getting In (Amanda's Trilogy)

by Isabella Jones

  A domme? I cup my hand over my mouth to hold back my laughter. Well, that’s a career path I’ve never considered.

  He blathers on: “Jennifer don’t seem to be as convinced, though. Prolly because she the bitch of the house and don’t want no competition.”

  Tyrell’s not paying attention when Lisette glances over at the closet and raises one eyebrow.

  Interesting.

  Tyrell finally stops yapping about dommes and bitches and who’s the boss, and notices that Lisette’s breasts are grazing his upper abdomen. He pushes her robe open and cups an enormous tit in each of his hands.

  “Baby, I been dreaming about your girls. Hello. And hello.” He bends down and plants kisses on them. If some guy did that to me, I’d kick him in the balls. Hard.

  “Tyrell, we don’t have a lot of time. My dad’s flying back tonight, and I’m not sure when he’ll be home.”

  He pushes her robe off, leaving Lisette standing nude. He then starts pulling off his own clothes, none too seductively, and again, I’m struck by how beautiful his body is: the rippling muscles in his back, his tight ass, the way his dark skin shines in the afternoon light. He’s moving his large hands all over Lisette’s body and kissing her, hard, on the mouth. The contrast of her pale skin against his dark makes me perspire.

  They kiss for a minute, then Lisette pushes Tyrell over to her bed and onto his back, so his legs hang over the side. His cock is fully erect as she takes it in her hand and starts stroking it up and down. She may be a virgin, but not when it comes to hand jobs.

  “Oh, baby,” he gasps, his eyes closed. “Oh yeah, just like that.”

  She strokes him for a minute, then bends down and wraps her mouth around him. His hips jerk upward with surprise as his cock fills her mouth, and she begins raising and lowering her head with her lips wrapped tight around him.

  “I’m not going to last, girl,” he whispers, raising his head to look at her head bobbing up and down, a little faster now. She’s obviously mastered the art of the blow job, too. Tyrell groans and his head lolls back on the bed.

  I feel a little dizzy, so I carefully lean against the door jamb inside the closet. Sucking and lapping sounds fill the room, punctuated by Tyrell’s moans. Then Lisette stops, retrieves a condom from her nightstand, and rolls the thin latex over the massive erection commanding the scene.

  “I gotta shoot my load in you, baby. This rocket’s gotta land.”

  I roll my eyes. The hydraulics in this guy’s dick are in inverse proportion to his ability to express himself romantically.

  Lisette climbs on the bed and Tyrell gives her room to straddle his hips.

  “You sure?” he says.

  “I can control it better this way.”

  Tyrell hasn’t done much to lube up Lisette, except play with her tits, and it strikes me as a little unfair, especially since she has to handle all of him inside her. But she begins easing him in slowly, and for the first time, I hear her uttering little noises of pleasure.

  But then he grabs her hips and shoves her down, hard, on his cock. She yelps like a small dog.

  I almost jump out of the closet to pull her off him—you know, go all “stupid bitch” again—but I hold back. He’s pumping her hips against him, moaning, yelling out “Baby!” and “Girl, oh yeah, fuck me like that. I’m gonna come inside you, girl.” His balls slap against her ass, he’s driving into her so hard. Lisette has fallen forward, her hands bracing her upper body so her breasts dangle above Tyrell’s incessant narration of how his cock feels inside her or how fine her cunt feels wrapped around his dick. The only thing that excites me about their exertions is that Tyrell has no idea I’m watching from the closet.

  Finally, Tyrell grunts out a final warning of his impending release and it’s over. He sucks on Lisette’s nipples for a few seconds, then pushes her off his rapidly deflating penis.

  “Oh, baby, that was great.” He rubs his hand across his face and exhales. “You got some fine piece of ass, girl. Fine.” I’m annoyed that he doesn’t mention anything about it being Lisette’s first time with a guy.

  If she’s disappointed, I can’t tell. Lisette has gotten off the bed and retrieved her robe from the floor. She slips it back on and turns back to Tyrell.

  “You’ve got to go now. I’ve got to get cleaned up and ready.” She bends down, picks up his fallen clothes and tosses them on the bed. Tyrell raises his head and looks at her.

  “Already? I just got here.”

  And who’s fault is it that things ended too quickly for you?

  He gets off the bed, removes the spent condom and dumps it into a wastebasket—without even wrapping it up in a tissue, ew!—and begins dressing silently. Lisette sits down on a chair by a vanity table and files her fingernail that has torn, examining it after every few seconds. As soon as Tyrell is back in his boat-sized Nikes, Lisette stands up and leads him to her bedroom door.

  “Baby, you mad at me or something?” He flicks a lock of hair off her shoulder.

  “No, I’m worried about the time. You showed up a little late.” She stands on her tiptoes and gives him a sweet little kiss on his cheek. “Come on, my dad could walk in any minute.”

  They leave the room, and when I hear the front door of the apartment open and Tyrell leave, I step out of the closet and into the girly-girl bedroom. In less than a minute, I hear a faucet run and then Lisette pads back down the hall in her bare feet and into the bedroom, a glass of water in hand. She closes the door behind her while I sit down at the bottom of her bed. She looks at me over the rim of her glass between sips. When I don’t say anything, she says, “Well?”

  “Well?” I repeat.

  “What did you think? Did you like it?” Lisette puts the glass down on the nightstand and sits down on the other side of her bed, her gaze frank and curious.

  “I guess what I’m asking myself is, ‘Did you like it?’ Honestly, he seemed focused on his prick. Which, I admit, is difficult to ignore.”

  “He is a prick,” she says. “Now you know why I’m lukewarm on him.”

  We’re quiet for a minute, and I pick at a loose string on the quilt covering her queen-sized bed.

  “I thought you’d like seeing us together … you seem to like watching.”

  My thoughts are confused. I thought I liked watching, too, being voyeuristic, but now, after watching Tyrell and Lisette, I’m not sure. It would have been better if Tyrell had slowed down, made more of an effort to please Lisette. Because she didn’t seem to get anything out of the experience, I didn’t either. But I’m not sure I can—if I even want—to explain that to Lisette, who’s looking at me expectantly.

  “It was a nice thing for you to do,” I say finally. “Thank you. I enjoyed watching. Now maybe I’d better go.”

  Lisette studies me for a moment, then gets up off the bed. She walks over and stands in front of me, her thighs brushing my knees. My fingers grip the edge of the mattress as she unties her robe and lets the bodice slip off her shoulders, revealing the tops of her breasts. She’s close enough so that I can see her chest rising and falling with her breathing. So close I can see the goosebumps on her flesh. She’s pulling the robe tight, and staring down at me with her huge green eyes. She’s so goddamn pretty and sexy, standing there like that, my heart starts to pound with anticipation.

  “Now that I’ve done something nice for you, maybe you could do something nice for me?” she asks coyly.

  I swallow, my throat dry. I croak out a very inelegant, “What?”

  “Show me how Tyrell should have made love to me.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I reach my hand out to untie Lisette’s robe, and she lets out a deep sigh and moves closer.

  I push the robe open, revealing her abundant breasts, which rise up and down with every breath. I caress the side of her right breast with the back of my fingers, then turn my hand over so it can travel down the curve to her waist. She closes her eyes and takes a short intake of breath.

  “I’m
sorry I said that thing about breast reduction.” My hand returns to her breast and gently caresses it. “Now that I really see them, they’re pretty spectacular. A lot of girls would kill for boobs like these.”

  Lisette’s smile reaches her eyes.

  “Really? You’re not just saying that?”

  “Really. If you want to know, I couldn’t stop thinking about them … you … this week. When I saw you for the first time, I wondered what it would be like to touch you, to kiss them.”

  “Amanda, I wish you would,” she whispers.

  I stop my caresses. “There’s one thing,” I say.

  “Mm-hmm?”

  “I really feel like I have to be in control here. I want to, need to please you. When I see you enjoying yourself, it turns me on. But I don’t need you to try to please me. You don’t have to reciprocate. Does that make sense?”

  “Amanda, tell me what to do. Whatever you want. That turns me on, too.”

  My pussy is throbbing so hard, I feel like it’s going to explode. Knowing that I have free rein to please Lisette, to show Lisette how she should really be loved, is about the biggest turn-on I’ve ever experienced in my life. I want to tear into her as she stands before me, offering herself so freely, but I’m no Tyrell. I hope the pleasure for her will be unforgettable if we take our time.

  “So your father …?”

  “I lied. He’s off at a conference, won’t be back till the weekend. We’re alone.”

  We’re alone. It’s the hottest thing any lover has said to me in my life.

  I shrug off my jacket because I’m perspiring, then I pull Lisette in close to me.

  “Lisette,” I say, looking up at her.

  “Please,” she whimpers.

  I place my hands gently on the curve of her hips and begin to drop tiny kisses on her breasts, butterfly kisses with my lips that tickle and tease. Then my tongue, as if on its own accord, begins to lick the soft, warm sweet flesh. My tongue has no plans for its travels: it touches one breast, licks the skin in her cleavage that I can only reach by palpitating her breasts apart, then darts out along one of her curves. I can see Lisette watching me, her pupils large.

  “They’re so sensitive,” she whispers.

  “They are. I’m going to take care of them.”

  I begin caressing her breasts again, petting, gently squeezing her mounds. I’m surprised how natural they feel in my hands, primal even. I want to bury my head in their softness, lose myself in them. Now I understand why some guys go nuts when they see a girl with boobs like Lisette’s.

  Then my attention turns to what I’ve been saving for last: her pale, delicate half-dollar areolas and nipples. Lisette is breathing more heavily, and her eyes close as I begin licking the pigmented skin that protrudes slightly from the rest of her breasts, then kissing them and blowing on the wetness I leave behind. Lisette reaches out and pulls my head in close, so I gently suck one of her nipples into my mouth, its rough skin toying with my tongue. I can hear Lisette moan, so I suck a little harder on her nipple, pulling it fully into my mouth, along with her areola. I do the same to her other breast, loving the most sensitive spot on her tit gently but firmly with my lips, tongue, and even my teeth, which causes her whole body to tremble and shudder.

  I could do this for hours, pleasing her like this with my mouth, tongue, and teeth, but I can smell her musky juices and know she’s probably eager for attention elsewhere. I take her hand and pull her down on the bed next to me.

  “Are you enjoying this?” she says.

  “Very much.” My voice is husky as I place a hand on her thigh.

  “Can I ask you to do one thing?” Lisette looks almost apologetic. “Could you spank me a little? Honestly, I really like it. You can use your hand, and it doesn’t even have to be that hard.”

  I think about it, remembering how she responded to the paddling and whipping Jennifer gave her. Suddenly, I get an idea.

  “Lisette, you know I don’t like being told what to do. And you really pissed me off this afternoon.”

  Her face clouds over.

  “I … I did?”

  I stand up, cross my arms, and look down at her sternly.

  “You kept texting me, even though I told you I was busy. I was trying to shop, you know, pick out a couple dresses.”

  Lisette’s face relaxes. “I’m … I’m really sorry, Amanda. I didn’t mean to piss you off.”

  “Well, you did. And now I’m going to have to punish you.”

  Lisette is trying not to smile. She knows what’s coming. She rolls down onto the bed, arranging herself across it, but I grab her legs and tug her so her ass is bent over the edge. She braces herself in place with her legs.

  My first slap is tentative. I hate to admit it, but the only time I’ve ever hit anyone like this is when I bitch-slapped a girl in London who was getting too close to one of my dates. It ended up costing me a trip with a couple of coppers down to the neighborhood station, but nothing ever came out of it except an hour in a private cell to “cool off.” British police are so much more polite and understanding of jealous girlfriends than American cops are.

  Lisette wiggles her ass a little so that her cheeks jiggle. The motion is clearly meant to tell me, “More. More.” So I slap her ass harder. I notice I leave a handprint on her skin. This time she makes a little squeal.

  It’s actually kind of fun, spanking Lisette like this, knowing that she’s getting turned on by my actions. My next slap is even harder and this time I feel a burst of—I don’t know, aggression? Even anger?—bloom in my chest.

  “When are you going to stop pissing me off? What do I have to do to get you to stop?”

  Smack! This one makes her cry out. Her ass is bright red, now, angry looking. I wonder if I’ve gone too far, but Lisette has started rubbing her hips against the edge of her bed.

  “Maybe I need a little help here.” My hand has started to sting so I look around the room. Lisette may like pain, but I don’t.

  “In the nightstand,” she groans. “Bottom drawer.”

  I yank it out where I find an assortment of toys that aren’t appropriate for display. My, my, little Lisette does like to play. I grab a small paddle.

  “I’m going to paddle you as many times as you texted me this week, which I think was ten times.”

  “Twelve,” she corrects me, her voice muffled against the bedspread.

  “Well, now that you’ve argued with me, that’ll be thirteen.”

  I draw the paddle back, then power it forward so that it cracks against her left cheek. In response, I hear a muffled cry.

  “That’s one. I want you to stop your bawling and count for me.”

  Smack!

  “Two!”

  Crack!

  “Th … three!”

  I notice Lisette repeats a couple numbers, but instead of “punishing” her further, I let it go. Finally at thirteen, she’s squirming and rubbing herself so hard against the bedspread that it would be cruel not to let her come.

  I return the paddle to the nightstand then return to Lisette, who hasn’t moved, except for her excited grinding against the bed.

  “Now I want you to listen,” I say. “I’ve never done this before, so I need time to explore. Get my bearings. Okay?”

  Lisette turns her head and I can see the side of her flushed face. “It’s okay. I can come multiple times, you know.”

  I smooth my hand down her reddened ass, which is soft, and give it a hard squeeze. “You see, that’s the problem. I don’t want you to come. I want to play with you for as long as I can. You remember what Jennifer said … discipline.”

  “I’ll try, Amanda. I really will. But I don’t think I can stop.”

  “We’ll see. I want you to try really hard.”

  I’m actually kind of nervous. I’ve never been this close to a girl’s ass and pussy. Lisette’s ass, while not big, is fleshy and strangely appealing. I get down on my knees and begin to kiss the red skin I’ve given her from the spank
ing. Then I rub her cheeks, massaging them in circles.

  “Does that feel good?”

  “Yes,” she whispers. “Very good. It’s soothing.”

  “I’m sorry I had to punish you like that. Maybe next time you’ll listen.”

  “Un-huh,” she says. “But I’m not very good at obeying.”

  I smile, and give Lisette’s rump one last smack.

  “You don’t know how to quit when you’re ahead, do you?”

  My fingers slip between her legs and find their way into her folds pressed against the bed. Lisette exhales a tortured moan as I slip my fingers up and down every slippery crevice, rubbing and occasionally spreading her folds apart.

  “Oh, unh, unh.”

  I look up and notice she’s biting her quilt. I push her legs open a bit wider, and I can finally see where my fingers have disappeared. Her cunt glistens with moisture and her labia, free of any public hair, is as plump and pink as I remember. This girl is turning me on so much I may have to reconsider the whole I’m-not-a-dyke thing. Maybe I’m not into guys like I thought I was? Maybe I don’t know myself as well as I think I do? Maybe everything I thought about my sexuality isn’t true, or that I haven’t explored it like I need to?

  At any rate, Lisette is squirming even more, so I press down firmly on her ass to still her.

  “I mean it, Lisette. Control yourself. Because I won’t play with you anymore if won’t do as I say.”

  “I’m trying!” she cries out with the quilt between her teeth. “But I can’t help it!”

  My clit is throbbing, too, but at least Lisette has someone touching the red, swollen button I’ve spotted between her legs. I’m careful with it; I know that the more delicate I am with her, the more exquisite agony she’ll have to endure. I spread her cheeks a bit and blow on her pussy. The reaction is immediate. Her ass bucks up uncontrollably. So I blow again, harder, my breath both cooling the juices of her pussy and ever-so-gently tantalizing her engorged clit. Then I slip one finger, two into her hole and spread them apart gently. Lisette is tight, but her vagina yields to me, so I slip another finger in and begin fucking her rhythmically with my hand. I take my index finger and search for the telltale bulge of her g-spot, which I put pressure on as I finger-fuck her with excruciating control.