Amber Wolcott wasn't your typical cheerleader, which didn't mean she wasn't pretty. No, Amber was a beautiful girl, but not in the way you might expect a cheerleader to be. She wasn't tall, slender, or blond. She didn't hang with the popular crowd. She didn't hang with any particular crowd for that matter. Amber was one of the top ranked students in her class. This was no small feat in a town filled with wealthy, well-to-do parents. Despite her intelligence, Amber didn't gravitate toward the intellectual, book-wormy clique, nor did she outright avoid them. She was one of those rare girls who boys secretly adored and girls of all type grudgingly respected. Even the three senior cheerleaders that made up the most popular clique of hot chicks in high school thought Amber was a cool chick. Although she did not run with the cool crowd, they respected her, and constantly sought out her views on fashion, men, and celebrity gossip.
Physically, Amber was compact, only five feet three inches tall. She had brown hair and big brown eyes. Not thin, and certainly not fat, Amber had a lovely rounded buttocks, the type of lush lower body curves that exist almost exclusively amongst the teenage set. Amber was a virgin and proud of it. In fact, she was somewhat of a prude, although she'd managed to avoid being labeled as such, thanks to her quirky personality and overall feminine mystique. All the boys had to agree that she had to be without question a fantastic lay, though the ones who said they'd had her were quickly branded as liars. Most boys agreed Amber had the best ass in all of school. It was plump in a way that said POW! It could raise the dusty dick of an 85-year-old man, let alone a horny young buck.
Amber worked part time at The Coffee Shop, served as the cafe at NACC (North Atlantic), which served as the local community college. Having just turned 18, Amber was not a whole lot younger than the students who frequented the bookstore. And being attractive as she was, she drew quite a lot of attention from the males in the college. At first, Amber was put off by their aggressiveness, but in time she began to appreciate their brazenness in the way they would ask her out without a second thought. "I'll take a double latte and your phone number," they would say, and Amber would laugh and say she wasn't interested. The boys from the college football team were the worst such offenders. They made passes at her regularly when they would visit the café. Unbeknownst to them, Amber knew them by name, due to her frequent attendance to the games. One would never think such a lovely, feminine girl who wore makeup and fashionable clothing would be into sports, but Amber's father was an NFL season ticket holder. Without a son to share his passion, he turned his attentions to Amber and was thrilled with her interest in the sport. Amber never told him her focus was less on the game itself and more on the rugged bodies of the men who played the sport.
Like most young women, Amber thought about sex often. But she hadn't met a boy worthy of her affection and was put off by the macho nature of young men. She was never comfortable with society's notion that a man generally takes the lead in a relationship. As the only child of a liberal family, Amber's mom had been very candid with Amber as she grew up. She gave her a number of books to read on the male psyche and anatomy. Amber spent hours studying diagrams of the penis and scrotum, and was quite fascinated. She was especially interested in the idea of blue balls and how she could best utilize a boy's hard-wired need to ejaculate to her advantage. As Amber's self confidence grew throughout her senior year, so did her desire to tease cock. She liked to wear form-fitting clothing to work and enjoyed catching the college boys staring at her ass. As her senior year went on, she began to obsess over the idea of teasing and controlling a boy by controlling the fascinating appendage that hung down between his legs. Something about being 18 gave Amber a sense of confidence she never had before. She was now officially a woman and she became convinced that it was time to find a male subject that was truly worthy of being conquered by her. But there was a caveat: It had to come from love. She had no interest in harming an innocent, albeit animalistic young man. Amber sought a willing male participant for what she had in mind.
In terms of a potential boyfriend, Amber had a number of highly stringent requirements. The boy had to be physically robust. It was a must! After all, what was the point of gaining control over something feeble and unimpressive? The boy had to be good looking, and popular. He couldn't be a pushover - that wouldn't be any fun - but he had to be deeply respectful of women. Otherwise it would be too big of a hassle. Amber made a list of boys that would be worthy targets. It was a very short list, consisting of three boys, all of whom played football for the local junior college. One of the three boys in particular was the ultimate prize. She put a big star next to the boy's name.
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Steve Philmore was the one of the stars of the NACC football team. The rugged running back stood six feet two inches tall and weighed a solid 210 pounds. This made him 100 pounds heavier than Amber. As one would expect, he wasn't a great student by any means. He liked to drink beer, hit on the popular chicks, and play sports. Despite having all the attributes of a dumb jock, Steve had the reputation of being kind-hearted. He might have been cocky, but he never picked on students not as popular or as physically gifted as he was.
Steve had a secret. He absolutely adored the girl at the coffee shop. This presented some problems for him because she didn't fit his image. For one, he knew she didn't attend the college. He also had some concerns that she might not be 18 years old. The girl's name always came up when the football team talked about who they would most like to fuck. The guys would always mention the usual suspects. Then one would inevitably say, "What about that super hot little chick at The Coffee Shop?" A bunch of guys would nod their heads and say, "Yeah I want me a piece of that," "That ass is perfect!" or, "I have asked that little bitch out 17 times and she always says no." Steve would never say a word. He didn't want anyone to know how much he fantasized about her. Not only did he adore her ass. He thought she had a perfect "frontal region" as well and he had an eye for that sort of thing. As a result, Steve spent a lot of time figuring out how he might be able to convince her that he was different than the other guys. He had personally seen three different guys on the team ask her out. Her reaction was always the same. She would smile politely and say, "No thanks."
Steve usually traveled around the school with a posse of fellow football players and hangers on. Late Monday morning in mid October was a rare exception to the rule. Steve arrived late into school because he had a doctor's appointment that particular morning. When he drove past The Coffee Shop, it occurred to him he wasn't actually a guy. Was there a chance the girl might be working now?
Sure enough, he walked in and there she was, working the counter, looking as beautiful as ever in all black, with the little green apron around her waist.
"Double Latte please," Steve said, trying to remain calm. "Say, don't you have school today or something?"
"It's Columbus Day," the girl said, with a heart melting smile.
What was it about that voice? Steve wondered. It was just so feminine, so right. This girl might be in high school, but carried herself in a more womanly fashion than just about anyone in school. Steve tried to keep his eyes from drifting down and studying her body. It was difficult.
"So, Columbus was a total prick, huh?"
"That's what they say." Again that smile. Steve watched as she turned and went to the machine, giving him a sensational view of her fabulous ass. Suddenly, without warning, she whirled and faced him.
"Nice game the other day. What was up with that fumble though?"
"You—You know who I am?"
"Of course. You're Steve Philmore.
"That's right. And you're name is?"
"Amber."
"Do you have a last name?"
"Wolcott."
"Cool." Steve felt his face reddening. Confidence was not something he struggled with, but there was something about the way this girl carried herself. When she turned and handed him the latte, he decided to go for broke."
"Hey, uh, Amber, what are you doing tonight? Want to get a burger at the mall?"
"Don't you have some hottie to hook up with?" Again the warm smile that conveyed the unusual confidence that Steve associated with actresses and hot news anchors.
"Yeah, you!" he blurted, and then corrected himself. "I mean, I don't have any expectations you know. Just think it might be fun." Steve cursed himself internally and tried to keep his composure as the girl stared at him as though she had him all measured. Then he remembered something. "Are you, uh, old enough? I know you aren't a student here."
"No, I'm still at Jefferson High," she said. "But you can relax, Steve, I just turned 18."
They said their goodbyes and Amber excused herself for a short break and went back to the ladies room. The smile greeting her in the mirror was as bright and intense as she could ever remember it. She reached into her handbag and pulled out folded slip of paper. It was the list of boys she had chosen as possible worthy males. Her eyes focused on the boy with a star next to his name. It was Steve Philmore, the strapping running back on the boy's football team. Amber felt a calm over her and she redid her makeup. She could not have mapped out a more perfect conversation and perfect behavior on the part of a boy she was interested in. He was so wonderfully awkward. He was obviously well-mannered and not so sure of himself. Yet he was an excellent physical specimen, built like such a man, not like the boys she attended high school with. She took a deep breath and savored the happiness she felt. She was supposed to feel nervous about dating Steve Philmore, but instead she felt a sense of anticipation and delight.
That evening, Amber wore a snug white cotton dress. She put her hair back into a ponytail and applied a sensible amount of makeup, focusing on her big penetrating eyes. She wore a light lip-gloss and a hint of perfume. The dress was cut fairly high, just above the knees, so she made sure to shave her legs thoroughly, not that they needed shaving. She wore designer flip flops and painted her toe nails purple, which was her favorite color, as well as the color she intended Steve's manhood to adopt for the entire evening.
Steve was blown away when he saw Amber. She dressed casually for their date but everything was in its right place with this girl. She was, without question, the most beautiful girl he had ever dated. Amber was so fashionable and so well put together. It occurred to Steve how much more sophisticated she was than any other girl he'd dated. Yet she still had such a youthful, girlish appearance.
As they sat down for dinner, Steve asked Amber if she had decided where she was going to college next year. When Amber replied that she had already received early acceptance to an Ivy League school, it caused Steve to break out into a sweat until Amber, reading his mind, told him to relax and said she was no elitist and that she was quite sure knew plenty given that he was two years ahead of her in his studies. "It doesn't matter anyways," she smiled. "Intellectualism is overrated."
Amber had a casual manner and, although she was better informed than Steve on almost any topic, she didn't go out of her way to make him feel dumb. Steve began to feel more comfortable. He also found himself agreeing with Amber on almost every subject. Normally Steve was the aggressor with women, but he found himself holding back with Amber. He also discovered that he was more turned on than he'd ever been on a first date.
At some point, the conversation turned to palm reading of all subjects. Amber asked Steve to present his large hand. She took her finger and began tracing it around the different grooves in his hand, explaining what each line meant. Steve's penis, which had been pressing against his pants for much of the meal, now felt like it was going to poke a hole in his boxer briefs. She had such a casual way of touching him.
"What's-a-matter?" she said. "You seem, like, out of breath."
"It's nothing," he sputtered. And she went back to tracing his hand and driving him nuts.
Later as they walked around the mall, they talked about football. Steve told Amber how he was going to rush for over 150 yards in this Saturday's game. Amber looked up at him with those big eyes and said, "only 150? Don't you want to do better than that for me?"
"Well, yeah, how about 200, but it's my final offer," Steve quipped.
"Atta boy," Amber said and she gave Steve a playful pat on his behind. He never in his wildest imagination would have allowed a girl to do that.
