Blue Balls A Love Story

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.

XXXXX

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.

Amber casually put out her hand and gave Steve a look of expectation. Steve thought it was odd on a first date, but he proudly held her hand as they walked around. Steve imagined he was the envy of every red-blooded male in the entire mall. Later, when they stopped at a women's shoe store, she asked Steve to help him put shoes on. Steve hesitated.

"Come on," she said laughing. "Be a gentleman and help a lady out." She straightened a leg out and practically put one of her tiny feet in Steve's face. He found himself on his knee, sliding Amber's heels on. He looked up and suddenly had a marvelous view up Amber's skirt. He saw a flash of pink lace between her legs and nearly lost it.

"Are you looking up my skirt?" asked Amber, laughing, and squeezing her legs together.

"No, of course not," he said. Then he smiled, "Ok, maybe a little bit. But where else am I supposed to look?"

Amber stuck her foot out and before he could react, she ever so gently tapped his crotch with the foot, the tip of her shoe making solid contact with the tip of his penis. "No peaking, Stevie," she said with a smile.

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's ok. I know you can't help yourself."

Amber felt a sheer thrill as she felt her shoe make unmistakable contact with Steve's penis. It was a brazen gesture on her part, but her intuition told her it was the perfect move for the moment.

The exchange was still buzzing inside Steve's head as they headed back to his car. He had begun to notice a dull persistent pain in his groin. Amber had been driving him so crazy that he was starting to get a bad case of blue balls. His emotions were going in a million different directions. A part of Steve felt used and frustrated by Amber. But another part of him felt totally enchanted by her. It became clear to him that Amber knew exactly what she was up to. He vowed to be patient and play along. Play through the pain, Steve-o, he said to himself.

Amber knew that Steve was well aware he was being teased. And to her that was just fine. Things were going just perfectly. She was having a great time. She could sense Steve's cognitive dissonance and it gave her great pleasure. In fact, she felt the tiniest trickle of moisture between her thighs. Of course, being turned on felt wonderful to her; it didn't incur the pain that a boy like Steve must feel and she was grateful for that. She wondered what it must be like for Steve, having that clumsy organ between his legs. Judging from his actions, it was clearly awkward for him.

When they arrived back at Steve's SUV, he decided it was time to make his move. He leaned across the seat with the intention of kissing her on the mouth, but before he could she pushed him away.

"Whoa, settle down big boy," she said. "This is just a first date. Do you take me for a slut or something?"

"Oh, what's the big deal Amber?" said Steve. "You've been teasing me all afternoon. Don't you want me?"

"I think you'd better take me home," said Amber. "You've got the wrong idea about me."

Steve had the mind to say something on the ride home, but he figured it was best to keep his mouth shut. When they got in front of her house, Amber wordlessly got out of the car. "I'm sorry, Amber."

"I'm sure you are."

That night, Steve burned for Amber. As soon as he got home, he raced upstairs and masturbated. He had to relieve the tremendous pressure that had built up in his balls. He couldn't stop thinking of her tracing his palm with her little finger, and sticking her little foot gently between his legs. It took him no time at all to come. The quantity of his load was tremendous. He spurted over a dozen times, eventually overwhelming the inadequate tissue he held in his free hand and dribbling his seed all over the rug. Amber had kept him so pent up that his big balls had been aching to rid themselves of a heavy load.

Two days later, Amber was wrapping up at The Coffee Shop. She had spent much of the day in a foul mood, which for her meant she was stoic and contemplative. She had expected to hear from Steve the day after she rejected his advances and when he didn't call she feared she had gone overboard. She consoled herself with the fact that there would be other boys that would be willing to accept her terms. Then again, there was something so raw and awkward and lovely about the NACC's star running back. She sighed at the thought of the big fish that got away. The Coffee Shop was nearly empty and so she began wiping down the display case, preparing for closing. Halfway through, she felt a tap on the shoulder and there was Steve Philmore.

"Hey, I wanted to apologize for the other night, Amber. You just don't know what you do to me. Or maybe you do," he said. "I couldn't help myself."

Despite being caught temporarily off guard, Amber had been prepared for this. "It's ok," said Amber, in as aloof a voice as she could muster. "I'm probably not the right girl for you, Steve," she said. "I'm not going to fawn over you just because you're the big football star. If you're looking for a slut, you need to look elsewhere," she said very sincerely and not unkindly.

"I know you aren't too impressed with me," said Steve. "And I love- I mean I like it. I like the way you handle me," he said with remarkable honesty.

Amber felt like she was going to burst with delight on the spot, but she kept her composure. "I thought you did. I mean, that was the sense I got. But then you kind of acted like a jerk at the end of the night and I didn't really get it."

"I just, well, uh, I don't know."

Amber turned and faced Steve. She didn't want to miss this priceless moment when this big, strong stud struggled to communicate what was so difficult to communicate. "Go ahead. I'm listening."

"It's just that I got really excited and I thought maybe you were sending me some signals and it, uh, hurt me down there."

"I know."

"You do?"

"Of course I do," she said, crossing her arms beneath her perfect breasts and smiling. "Don't you see I was testing you? But that doesn't mean I'm not interested in a relationship with you. It just means that I do things on my terms and my terms only."

"I understand."

"Do you? I'm not so sure you do yet."

"Well, give me another chance and I can prove it to you."

"How can I be sure you won't get all macho again and try to touch me without my permission?"

"I promise I won't."

"If you do it again, I won't be able to see you anymore. I have a two strike policy, you know."

"You are- something else." Steve smiled.

"I know. But a part of you really likes it, I think." Amber let her eyes drift downward and then she met Steve's eyes and smiled challengingly.

"I really want to see you again."

"Okay, but you know now that all the physical stuff is up to me, and that's just the way it has to be for me. You get that right?"