Amanda Holden Legs Novels & Stories

Most especially the Vitalis Master. Once she finished changing to her earlier denim and pants, Amanda walked out of the gym, but before she could fully exit the place, she bumped into someone in the doorway. This someone wore black cycling shorts and a skull-printed tank top. She had her Ipod headphones in her ears, listening to a rock music whose drums and guitars Amanda could easily hear from where she stood.

She'd know that there was something on my mind, so there was no point trying to keep it from her. Amanda was an impressive woman in every way. She was an amazing mom, a successful lawyer, and at age 35, still incredibly youthful and radiant. She was about 5'7'' - a good five inches taller than Serena - with an olive complexion and long curly brown hair. She was not nearly as curvy as Serena, but she was slender and athletic and very beautiful, just in a more conventional sort of way. And at that moment, as she stepped onto the deck, sweat glistening on her skin, she looked incredibly hot. I was fired up and anxious to get her alone as soon as possible.

Goodluck loved the view, he paused to look at it some more. Amanda knew what he was looking at and decided to spread her legs some more to give him a better view, she loved the way his face turned red just looking at it, he made to touch it but stopped halfway, he decided to continue his journey slowly so as not to choke, but the view was just infront of him, it was there for him to explore. When her both sandals were off, he massaged her feet, kissing them at intervals, then he stood up and his third leg could be seen standing with him.

He could do this. She waited for him to hold her bent leg, then leaned back on his shoulder, one arm wrapping around his opposite shoulder, the other splaying back as she elongated her form, other foot leaving the floor as she balanced on him. He held her torso, thankful she had so much training. He still had to hold her steady, of course, but he could feel the strength of her muscles through the fabric of her shirt, the tenseness of her legs. He moaned as quietly as he could, heart skipping a beat as he held her and helped her move accordingly. Damn, Amara was incredible.

He asks, gently holding my sides. "Perfect," I say, releasing my shoulder, "just not a fully functioning person is all." He laughs grimly, "Will you let me help you now?" I nod reluctantly. Worldlessly, he reaches for my shirt. Once he manages to loosen it around my shoulder, then my head, he looks at me in question. I nod. He kneels before me, pulling my tights down until my legs are completely bare. I remain awkwardly in my black underwear. My skin feels too hot.

Amanda, though… fuck. Her outfit was dangerous. A deep red number that clung to every curve — waist, hips, the full swell of her breasts — with a slit that showed off those long legs and the heels that made them look endless. Her hair fell loose and wavy, catching the light every time she moved. She was glowing already, and we hadn’t even started drinking. I swallowed hard and forced myself to look away. “Go. I’ll be around.”

Then finally, it's my turn. "How far? " She says. Her fingers play with the elastic band on her left wrist. Amanda has on a dark blue t-shirt with "Black is Bae" printed across it in fancy letters, her signature denim jacket over that, and a pair of loose fitting trousers that billow even in the heat. I don't think i have said this enough, but yet again: She's beautiful.

Amanda had never gotten this angry and cursed at everyone, as if the woman's soul had been possessed by something evil, thus changing her character too far. Just as the other maids managed to persuade Aunt Rosemary to remove her arms from Amanda's legs, Oriaga's wife's body suddenly collapsed and fell on the floor as Dean appeared with Mr. Freddie. ***

And there she was. Amanda sat at the top of the kitchen Island, swinging legs in the air, licking vanilla ice cream from the tub. She wore one of my old T-shirts, oversized on her but not oversized enough. The hem covered barely the top of her thighs. Bare skin. No panties. Nothing underneath. She glanced up and smiled,slow and aware. Then dragged the spoon across her tongue again. “Couldn’t sleep?” I questioned in a rough voice - unintentional. “Late night cravings.” She responded, her eyes wandering on my body, from my bare chest down to the waistband of my pajama pants, again and back up. “You should walk around more like this Uncle Xavier.”

But then again, that is her solution for nearly everything. “Easy for you to say.” I tell her. Amanda never fails to get male attention when we go out together with her long legs and bleach blond hair. While, I’ve got more of the girl next door look going on, Amanda looks more like she’s stepped out of a fashion magazine. Her hair is always perfectly curled, while my chestnut locks are usually pulled up on top of my head into a messy bun. While she’s thin and stands five foot nine, I’m much shorter at five foot five with a more athletic build-my legs can only be described as thick and muscular. I figure that’s due to summers filled with hiking and well, anything else I can do outdoors.