Notes:

1) This is a stand-alone piece, although it is a continuation of "True Beginnings", which can be found at Rhoda's home page.

2) Names have been changed to retain privacy.

Warnings:

1) This story contains adult content of a sexual nature. If it is illegal for you to view such material, please leave now.

2) "The Jailbait Journal" is protected under copyright law. Do not redistribute without permission from the author.

Introduction

I was barely sixteen years old, but I'd already spent a little over two years discovering what turned me on. I read hundreds of porno magazines, secretly ordered adult toys by mail, and experimented with masturbation, fantasies, and fetishes. I knew enough to know what I wanted. Sex. Real sex, with a man. With an older man.

Why the age discrimination? Well, I was a smart kid, obsessed with gaining knowledge. I didn't just want to have sex; I wanted to learn about sexuality. Boys at school wouldn't have the experience to teach me much, if anything at all. Anyway, I had every reason to expect I was ahead of them in that department. And I wasn't going to risk being harassed and teased in the school's hallways about being a slut in order to test that theory.

I'd been hit on a few times by adult men. They always backed off when I told them my age. I guess I appeared older to them because of my intellect and demeanor, not to mention being physically top-heavy, and I didn't wear school logos or participate in any youth fashion fads. Dealing with rejection due to my age made me angry. I didn't have control over my number, so why was I being punished for it? How was I going to find an experienced man to teach me about sex if they couldn't see beyond my age?

CHAPTER ONE: Karma Corrections Him

Even though I'd won the war with Mom over my participation in her Catholic religion, I did benefit from the exposure. When I was thirteen years old, for a Confirmation gift, she'd subscribed me to a faith-based teen magazine. In it, there was a section for making pen-pals, and one of the ads caught my eye. Renny was nineteen and interested in the same kinds of music and recreational activities as I was, and he sounded lonely. So, I wrote to him, and we became good friends.

Shortly after my decision to try to get laid, my relationship with Renny, then twenty-two, turned romantic. I gave him my phone number, and we talked for an hour almost every day for two months, until we were impatient to meet. I begged my parents to allow me to date him if he would come up on vacation. Mom was much easier to persuade than Dad, but, eventually, I got my way.

He'd taken a Greyhound, and Mom and I picked him up from the bus station. Because he'd sent me a picture, I knew who I was looking for. We seemed to spot each other simultaneously, and he immediately enfolded me with a big hug. Thankfully, after briefly introducing herself, Mom fell silent, and allowed Renny and me to chat.

The ride home was over too quickly. I was having too much fun laughing and flirting, and I wasn't looking forward to Dad's planned "boyfriend interview". Even though I'd warned him, Renny didn't seem to be intimidated. As it turned out, anything Dad might've said to him would have no affect.

As they emerged from the garage, Mom finished putting dinner on the table, so I called my two younger sisters inside, and all of us enjoyed light conversation while we ate. My sisters even behaved themselves for a change. It was nice. After the dishes were done, Renny and I spent a few hours in my room, with the door open, talking, laughing, and holding hands. The only awkward parts were when Dad would pop his head in to check on us.

Dad had been adamant from the start that Renny couldn't stay at the house overnight, so it came time to take him to his motel room. I had just gotten my license, and I had use of the extra family car to get to school, but my parents didn't want me to be alone with Renny just yet. Dad offered a ride, but I caught Mom's eye and silently pleaded her intervention. She rescued me, saying she'd wanted to go run an errand anyway, and it was no bother for her to drop him off, and did I want to go to the store with her? Nice save, Mom!

In the parking lot of the Best Western, I got my first real kiss. I mean, sure, I'd kissed the neighbor boy as we sat in a tree when I was three, and I kissed my first love while he lay sleeping when I was twelve, but I'd never been kissed before. We knew Mom was watching, so we weren't hot and heavy or anything, but it was enough to put me on cloud nine.

Not skipping school the next day was especially difficult. It was Friday; I had the car, and I was tempted, but I didn't want to risk getting caught and being forced to cut short my visit with Renny. I told my last hour teacher that I felt ill, and, probably because I didn't have a history of lying or cutting class, she wrote me a hall pass to the nurse's office--which just-so-happened to be the closest room to the set of doors leading outside in the direction of the parking lot. I had a head start on the rush when the last bell rang, and I was home in record time.

Dad was working until five that whole week, but Fridays were Mom's days off. Renny wanted to look at the two colleges in the area, and Mom had offered to show him around the campuses while I was at school. They were at the house, sitting at the kitchen table, when I walked through the door. Renny got up and gave me a hug and kiss. Mom smiled her approval at me, and she surprised me by suggesting I take him out for a few hours before dinner. That was her mistake, as Dad would freak when he got home to discover she'd given permission for us to be alone. Dad couldn't possibly fault me for taking her up on it, though, so I grabbed Renny's hand and practically ran back to the car.

When the house was too noisy, I'd walk down to the woods to sit and read. One day, I came upon a clearing for a subdivision, right in the middle of all the trees! Construction hadn't yet begun, and I'd never seen or heard another person there. So, that's where I took us to park in privacy. We got out of the car, and I pulled the emergency blanket from the trunk and spread it out on the dirt for us.

Renny was a good kisser, I thought, but he was rushing me. Sure, I knew I wanted to have sex, but that didn't mean I didn't want to enjoy the foreplay stuff, too. I was too shy to express my desires. What if Renny knew something that I didn't? Or what if I asked him for what I wanted, and my request offended him enough to want to call the whole thing off?

I'd hardly figured out how to breathe during a french kiss before he was shoving his hands into my shirt to grope my breasts. Seconds later, I had my shirt off, and he was fumbling with my bra's hooks. I had to remove the garment myself because I feared he would break it. Hardly a minute went by before I felt his hands pulling at the button on my jeans. I took the cue and finished undressing myself, and, as I did, he stripped naked, too.

I was curious about giving head. It was something I'd read a lot about, and I'd practiced with my dildoes, but I really wanted to know more. I began sucking him. When Renny pushed me away from his cock after only a couple of head bobs, I was disappointed.

He directed me to lie down on my back, and, all in one motion, he positioned himself between my legs, on top of me, and inside my pussy. Then, he began thrusting. He came. In the blink of an eye, my first time was over.

My head was spinning with confusion as I watched him rush to put his clothes back on. Our experience was nothing like the stories I'd read. I thought having sex with a man would be so much better than masturbation, but what I felt was quite the opposite. All of those romance novels and dirty magazines couldn't be that wrong, could they?

No, it had to be Renny. A few kisses, some breast squeezes, a couple head bobs, and pumping five times wasn't the kind of story the magazines told. Renny didn't take his time or allow me to take my time. We hadn't really explored each other through petting and oral stimulation, and we didn't experiment with different sexual positions. There weren't any words--loving or thrilling. He came way too early and got dressed without so much as offering me a second round. No wonder I was so disappointed!

I dressed myself, and Renny and I drove back to my house. I cleaned myself up, then we all sat down to eat. During dinner, I excused myself to my room, saying I didn't feel well. Mom came in to ask what was wrong, and I told her that I didn't feel romantic about Renny anymore, and that I was ready for him to leave. When Renny checked in on me, I just stuck with the 'sick' excuse, and Mom suggested he make plans to go home early instead of wasting vacation money hanging around while I was in no shape to entertain him. Mom took him back to the motel by herself.

Although Renny intended to stay and visit me until Sunday afternoon, he was on a bus by early Saturday morning. I didn't even go to say goodbye. We never saw each other again, but, years later, I received correspondence from him, begging my forgiveness for his selfishness and swearing that he loved me. Funny thing, though: the return address was a state prison! Maybe he'd met another underaged girl, and they'd been caught--or she might've been disappointed enough in his performance to cry rape. Who knows? I didn't bother to reply to his letter.

CHAPTER TWO: Bait and Switch, and the Big Ditches

A bad first experience wasn't enough to deter me from learning more about sex, but I still had obstacles. I already recognized my nature as submissive, and I felt awkward trying to seduce a man. When a man would hit on me, I'd eventually be asked how old I was, and I didn't think it was right to lie.

Adding to my stressful quest for good love was the constant yelling and crying going on at home. My emotionally and physically abusive dad finally handed Mom too many last straws, and she was making plans to leave him. Neither did they put on false fronts for us kids' sake, nor did they attempt to discuss their issues in private. Their battle ground was always the kitchen, but sometimes their argument would spill out into the livingroom, and their fights increased both in length and in volume as Mom's departure date continued to approach.

I was almost at wit's end when my little sister presented me with a road map to relief. She told me that Tavin, her twenty-nine year old school bus driver, seemed especially nice to her, and she thought his German accent was sexy. I didn't lecture her, per se, but I did warn her of the illegality and other hazards of such a pairing. Under the guise of protective sisterly duty, I told her I'd check out the situation.

In our town, the high school and junior high were right next to each other, so everyone used the same busses. Because I was attempting to earn enough credits to graduate a full year early, I took an extra morning class. My sisters took the bus instead of carpooling with me because they weren't keen on waking up an hour early just to sit and wait in an empty building for their school day to begin. Although I drove to school, there were times I had to take the bus for field trips or band activities.

Soon, Tavin was among the drivers assigned to take the band to a weekly football game. I chose to ride with him, and I positioned myself in the seat behind him. In his rearview mirror, I flirted with him by keeping eye contact and smiling. He winked at me and grinned. With the band director's assistant in the seat across from me, I knew it wasn't the time to start up a conversation, but I was enjoying what progress I'd made so far.

On the ride back, I sat in the same place, and we continued our silent flirting. When we got to the school, I made a fuss about rearranging the contents of my instrument case as all the other students exited the bus. The assistant asked if everything was all right, and when I told her it was, she left, too. Finally, Tavin and I were alone, but we both knew it wouldn't last long.

I told him that my sister had previous problems being picked on while riding the bus, and that she'd told me he looked after her. I thanked him for his kindness and expressed a desire to talk more. Tavin suggested we move our conversation to the city library down the block, saying we could use the 'tutor' excuse if anyone thought we looked out of place together. I agreed to meet him there.

Within a few days, I was practically spending all of my free time with Tavin at the library. We'd talk, flirt, and secretly hold hands beneath the table. He was apprehensive about taking our relationship any further. He couldn't take me home with him because he was married. Booking a motel room with me could raise a manager's eyebrow enough to call police. Parking somewhere would risk being caught red-handed by police. He begged for my patience and promised to find a way for us to be together.

Actually, it was Mom who offered me the solution to our problems. She'd accepted a job as a manager for several apartment complexes. She had quite a few move-ins to prepare for right away, so she temporarily hired me to clean them. Which meant she had to let me use her master key to open the units and to lock them up when I was done. Smart girl that I was, I made a quick stop at Wal-Mart to make a copy for myself.

Next time I met Tavin, I informed him of the new situation. A vacant unit was like a motel without a suspicious desk clerk or a fee! I pled my case: I knew my mom. She was too busy, working a part-time job on top of this full-time job, and moving into her new apartment, and meeting with her divorce lawyer, and raising my two sisters. Finally, Tavin agreed to come with me.

I spread two thick quilts over the carpet for our bed. I double-checked the blinds to be sure no one could see, and I lit several candles instead of turning on the lights, more of a cautionary action than a romantic one. Tavin lightly rapped on the door, and I opened it a sliver, while hiding my body behind it, as he stepped inside.

Remembering Renny's impatience and fumbling with my clothes, I just decided to make it easy on myself, so I greeted Tavin in the nude. It shocked him, but I think it pleased him, too. From that point on, we didn't have much use for words.

In the candle-lit living room void of all furniture and decor, we stood, kissing and caressing, for a good long while. I felt the excitement, this time. Tavin touched every inch of my upper body while making nice, soft humming sounds that helped me relax. Although I desired to caress and explore him as he did to me, I felt I'd offered him an invitation that he hadn't yet extended to me. I needed his permission, either through words or with clear action, like discarding his clothes or taking my hand and placing it on his body. So, I simply stood there, mimicking his vocalizations and reciprocating his kisses.

As he guided me to the stack of quilts, I was nervous. Would it be over soon, like Renny? Or was this part of the beginning, like the magazines? I hoped for the best as I lay down on my back.

When Tavin stayed clothed and kneeling, I started to sit up, but he just shook his head and grinned. Confused, I stretched out flat again, only to feel his touch on the insides of my knees. I opened them for him and was rewarded with a finger stroking my wet labia. Yes!

He teased me until my clit was so hard; I didn't think I could stand it! Almost as if on cue, Tavin began to rub my swollen button. I was on the edge, but I just couldn't fall. I mean, I felt my climax built-up and ready, but I didn't know how to release it in the presence of another person, without a fantasy in my head. Maybe I was too dependent on or addicted to my fantasies. Maybe I was too overwhelmed by the new sensations or too worried about keeping quiet. Maybe I was feeling guilty because he was giving me more pleasure than I was giving him. I'm not sure exactly why, but my orgasm eluded me.

I was so preoccupied with my emotions that I didn't notice Tavin had altered his position until he removed his hand from my pussy. I looked, and his face hovered over my mound. He was going to go down on me! Immediately, I blocked him.

We'd discussed some of my sexual desires prior to this night. While informing him I was on the pill, I let him know I wanted to feel him ejaculate inside of me. I confessed my curiousity about giving head, but we'd never discussed him eating me out. I wasn't ready to mentally accept a man could enjoy doing this for a woman, and I wouldn't allow him to act out of a sense of obligation. I didn't think the time was right to talk about my discomfort, as there were other acts I wished to explore instead. Well, if he still wanted to continue playing with me after I'd refused him something.

I sat up and reached for him. He reassured me by allowing me to bury my face in his chest, and he hugged me really tight. When I had been convinced he wouldn't run out on me, I calmed down and broke the embrace. Dropping my gaze down the bulge in his jeans and back to his face, I successfully conveyed my request. Tavin nodded, so I began to strip him.

I couldn't hold back my huge grin when I realized all I was learning. I knew the feel of a caress, other than my own, on my naked body. I'd become more skilled with kissing. I'd become better acquainted with the physical differences in men--things I noticed in magazines but never up close in real life. And I knew how to undress a man; well, Tavin had to help me with his belt, but I'd know how next time.

Standing before me, he was nude, and I was kneeling. I clasped my teenaged hands around his almost-thirty-year-old cock and stroked it a while, watching his face to give me clues about my performance. When Tavin reached down to touch my face, I read it as a request, and I parted my lips to take his thick erection into my mouth.

It felt so right, so natural, to be kneeling like this in front of him, with his stiff dick rubbing against my tongue. And it wasn't all in my mind. My body was responding to sucking Tavin by releasing its flood gate; I felt wet halfway down my thighs! I closed my eyes and gave myself over to being a vessel of pleasure when he reached down to place his hand on the back of my head. He repeatedly tilted his hips forward and back, slowly fucking himself with my mouth. I hummed the pleasure-sounds he recently taught me, and he groaned. I could taste his tangy precum.

He nudged me backwards by my shoulders, and he came down with me, crushing my breasts to his chest. While kissing me deeply, he wiggled his body between my legs, letting me feel his cock bounce against my thighs and pussy lips. Scooting a little forward, the head of his dick pressed against my entrance. Tavin's eyes met mine, and I said the magic word.

With long, controlled strokes, he thrust into me over and over. I had never felt so good, ever. I never wanted it to stop. That is, until he switched his technique, keeping most of his tool inside me while making fast jabs up at my g-spot. I never wanted that sensation to end, either.

He pulled his cock free from my inner grip, smiled, and tapped me on the outside of my thigh. I understood the hint enough to roll over, and he maneuvered me up on all fours. When Tavin fucked me from behind, I thought I'd never feel as good in my life again. With his large hands gripping my hips to hold me steady while he drove himself so close to the limit of my depth, I was overwhelmed with the same sense of 'rightness' that I'd had earlier while sucking his cock. I decided this act was my favorite of the favorites so far.

Although quite happily stimulated, I was nearly sore before Tavin shot his load. The feel of his powerful spasms against my inner walls was exquisite. When he deflated and slipped out of me, I had to fight the urge to cry. Never before had I felt such a longing for a loss.

We cuddled in the afterglow as Tavin asked about my satisfaction, and I happily stroked his ego. He told me he was proud to be my first. Offering him a smile and a kiss, I let it slide.

I hadn't told him about Renny; I didn't want Tavin to think I was a slut. After all, intercourse with Renny was only a couple of months prior to this night. I was so glad to know how different men can be. Maybe there was someone out there even better than Tavin, but I would stay with Tavin awhile to learn more of what he was able to teach me.

Tavin and I rolled around for several months. No, I didn't let him go down on me; I never got over my shyness with him about it. I improved at fellatio, and, if I sucked him to the finish, I always swallowed. My orgasm continued to be elusive for us, no matter what position we tried or how long we kept going, but I loved our sex anyway.

The most thrilling experience with Tavin was when I had state competition with the band, and Tavin made sure he was signed up to escort us. We found a moment to slip away to the empty bus, and we made out, and I gave him head. We were so nervous about being discovered but too horny to wait. It didn't take him long at all to cum, and I consumed the evidence. I felt sexy and a little slutty during this escapade, and I loved it!

But our risk-taking almost got us caught. We'd become so comfortable touching each other that the dangers of PDAs were all but vanished from our minds. At a football game, because I told him my face was freezing, he took his gloves off to press his warm hands against my cheeks, and the jealous girls tattled on me to the band director. Mr. Dorsey couldn't find enough fault with Tavin's actions to report him, but we had to be more careful after that incident.

I started working as a cashier at a retail store. Tavin and I stopped spending so much time together. One of my co-workers starting flirting with me, and, that's how Tavin and I ended. I didn't feel so bad, after all, Tavin had no intentions of getting divorced. I simply told him I was moving on, and that he would be wise to continue to keep his hands off of my little sister.

CHAPTER 3: Playing Teacher

Matt was twenty-three, and I was still sixteen, when we began our working relationship. Because he was stationed at the opposite end of the store, I didn't see much of him unless we took break at the same time. Honestly, I don't remember exactly how we progressed from casual relationship to serious attraction. What I do recall is feeling bummed when he told me he'd be leaving the store soon to pursue a career as a chemist.

He lived with his parents, just down the road from my grandparents; I found, when I was given his address. I already knew Matt's dad Clarence, a sweet and funny little man, because he'd worked with us for a brief time. I wasn't afraid to call on Matt in front of them, but it did seem odd that Matt would have me court him instead of vice-versa. I mean, yeah, it was the '90s, but I was submissive, and assertiveness wasn't my forte.

Mostly out of pity, I chose to live with my dad during my parents' divorce. I knew how much child support my sisters cost him, and I didn't want to add to his financial burden. Also, I thought that my dad would mellow without my mom there to push his buttons, and he and I would begin to have a better relationship. Okay, okay; I wasn't all that unselfish--I knew that Mom was moving into a two bedroom apartment, and, if I lived there, I'd have to share a room with both of my sisters. And one of my sisters was especially popular, so, without Dad to scare people away, all of her friends would be 'noising up my solitude'.

Although the frequency of his abusive behaviour diminished, my dad still snapped periodically. It was after such an occasion that I required no assertiveness to seek out my friend Matt. My father had been especially cruel, and I desperately needed comfort.

Maybelle, Matt's mother, answered the door to find me puffy-eyed and crying. Ours wasn't the ideal introduction, but she was wonderful about it. Matt wasn't yet home, but she welcomed me inside to wait for him and offered me a cup of tea.

I felt somewhat better before Matt arrived to find me sitting at the kitchen table with his mother. My face must've still looked a mess, because he barely spoke to Maybelle before escorting me directly to his bedroom. For such a nice guy, his actions seemed out-of-character, and I can't imagine a reason he'd be the slightest bit rude to his mother unless he were quite concerned for me.

Sitting on his bed, we talked for hours. Matt was an excellent active listener; everything I said prompted another question from him. In the end, it felt like an intense therapy session. I was honest with Matt about everything: my dad's physical and emotional abuse, Renny, Tavin, the yearning I had for an intimate relationship with a man that wasn't what I had with either Renny or Tavin, and my hopefulness that I could find what I needed in him.

Then Matt shocked me. He admitted to me that he was a virgin. I couldn't believe it! A virgin at twenty-three? No way...now what? I was still a student of sex; how could I pretend to be a teacher? What would I learn from someone with less experience than I had? Did I still want this?

I didn't have long to deliberate. Matt had risen from the bed to lock the door. He moved toward me, and I automatically stood. He held me, and I stopped thinking about his virginity to focus on my gratitude for the comfort he provided. Matt smelled so good, and we started making out...and, before I was consciously aware of it, lust had taken over me.

Sometime after we'd stripped each other, he stopped me to ask about condoms. It embarrassed me--I mean, I'd never used one before, so I didn't know how, and Matt was relying on me to know more about sex than him, so I felt dumb. Because I'd known from health class in school that people can get AIDS and STDs, and I hadn't done anything to protect myself, I also felt ashamed. From my last appointment with the lady-doctor, I knew I was free of disease, and I didn't want to admit to Matt that I hadn't practiced safe sex in past. Also, I didn't want to lose the blissful sensation of hot semen filling up my tunnel.

I decided to tell him I was taking birth control, and I'd tested clean since my last partner. He could use a condom if he wanted, but it wasn't my preference. Luckily for me, he opted for bareback.

During foreplay, while Matt lay nude on his back on the bed, I propped up on my side against him. Not unusual. However, he remained on his back for an excessive amount of time, and he made no move to fuck me. I didn't get it; wasn't he interested in taking me? I reached down to his crotch to check--yes, he wanted me. What was the deal, then?

I slowly jerked his wood as I contemplated how to ask, 'What are you waiting for,' without sounding like an impatient bitch. I hadn't come up with a solution before Matt gently tugged on my arm, indicating he wanted me on top.

Shit! Another thing I didn't have experience with...didn't want experience with! Being on top was taking control. "I'm SUBMISSIVE," I wanted to scream with exasperation, but I didn't. A good girl who wants to please a man does what he wants, right? That's one conflict I'd encounter again and again as a submissive--something against my nature would still be considered within it as long as my lover requested it from me.

I did it, and I pretty much hated it. Sure, his dick still rubbed me in good places, but I didn't feel sexy. Riding him was awkward for me. How was I supposed to know what speed pleased him the best, or whether to rock back and forth--which felt best to me--or to bounce up and down? The entire time, I was miserably self-conscious. Thankfully, Matt didn't last too long before he spurted his goo inside me.

Because I'd done something I didn't want to do for him, I felt entitled to indulge myself with him. When I dismounted, I slid down his body to kneel between his legs, and I lapped up our mixed juices from his cock and balls. I felt much more at ease. Although it wasn't my primary goal, I found that Matt had much appreciated my craving, as he'd grown another erection.

I gave him my very best blow job, hoping that my oral execution would so outshine my on-top performance that he'd never ask me to ride him again. I kept my lips in a perfectly tight 'o', swirled my tongue along his shaft, and tried my damnedest to lick his sac when my mouth hit his base. Unsurprisingly, he reached climax quickly, his grunts and groans filling me with a sense of pride, which I wholly welcomed after that cowgirl fiasco.

Matt and I dated for the rest of my sophomore year and the following summer break. There were things I learned from him: how to ride a cock, how to let a man go down on me (still didn't cum, but it felt great!), and how it feels to be the dumpee. Yeah, that's right; he broke up with me.

I guess I really dropped the ball as a teacher when I told Matt how wonderful it feels to a woman when a man ejaculates inside of her. The very next woman he fucked--or, rather, let fuck him--was impregnated by him. She was a crazy bitch, too, and I felt sorry for him. It complicated things a year later when we tried to date again.

Why did I date him again? I don't know. He was a good listener and a good friend. He made really decent money as a chemist, and I could see us inviting his wonderful parents over for dinner at our little house with the yard and a dog...and his kid by another woman? No. I tried, but that was the end of Matt and me.

CHAPTER 4: Behind the Scenes

No, I didn't wait a year for sex; are you kidding me? I wasn't a quitter, and I still had a mission! I spent a couple of weeks nursing my wounds, and I was back on alert.

One day, a man I vaguely recognized came through my check-out lane at work. He had enough items in his cart for me to scan that there was time for me to think about how I knew him. Finally, his face clicked with a memory in my mind--the bus!

Brendan and I had shared the same bus when I was in seventh grade and he was a senior. He appeared so different with shorter hair and without the camouflage pants. Wow, did he look dreamy now!

I called him by name and asked how he'd been doing. He was stunned that I remembered him, as we'd never talked at all before. I teased him lightly about his army attire, and I confessed to have had a crush on him in those days. (That was totally untrue! Why'd I say that? Oh, yeah, I wanted him.)

And, that's all it took for me to have Brendan-the-Beautiful's phone number in my pocket. I couldn't wait even one day, like I was supposed to, so as not to appear desperate. I knew I was breaking the rules, but I didn't care about the dating game. I wanted sex, to hell with the damned game!

Our first phone chat was brief. He hadn't realized that we lived within walking distance from one another. Nor did I, as I didn't know, until he told me, that he still lived with his parents. Brendan was home alone and knew he would have the house to himself for awhile, so it made sense for me to go to him.

While he sat in a desk chair, I sat on the only other piece of furniture in his room--his bed. He told me of his involvement in the local paper, writing a column critiquing movies. Brendan's job gave him free passes to the theater, so we could go as often as we'd like. I loved movies, so I thought that was an awesome perk! After scanning the newspaper, he offered me some film choices for the evening. I told him I'd rather he chose, so he did. We talked and innocently flirted, enjoying our time together before heading to the movie complex to continue our date.

I didn't watch one smidge of the movie beyond the opening scenes. "Spawn" was definitely a guy's movie. It was no matter, as I thoroughly enjoyed watching Brendan watch the movie. Taller and broader than my other lovers. Strong masculine jawline. Eyelashes for miles. Long, lean hands. I couldn't discern from his facial expressions whether his review of the movie would be good or bad, and I found that manly and mysterious poker-face attribute incredibly sexy.

Why hadn't he yet put his arm around me or held my hand? Well, it wasn't the kind of movie that inspired romance, that was for sure. But this was a date, right?

Left to wonder the whole time, wonder was what I did. Would his sex be more like Renny, Tavin, or Matt? Would he be completely different than all of them? How many kinds of guys were there? The longer I sat there thinking, without any reassurance from Brendan of his physical interest in me, the worse I felt about my prospects. Was he too beautiful to want me back?

After the movie, as we drove toward our homes, Brendan surprised me by pulling into a deserted parking lot. He wasted no time removing his seat belt and smothering my mouth with his. He used everything: lips, tongue, teeth. Even the way he breathed into my mouth was sensual. And I could've drunk his saliva by the glassful; he tasted that delicious! He kissed my whole mouth, too: licking my inner cheeks, the roof of my mouth, my gums, sucking on my bottom lip--nothing was missed. I felt as though I were living out a scene from a chick-flick. He kissed just like the movies! When I had the opportunity to tell him so, he laughed at me, but I wasn't joking.

I couldn't believe how wet I was. I'd never been that excited just from kissing before. If Brendan was this great of a kisser, what else would he do well? I wouldn't have to wait long to find out.

We crawled into the back seat where we each undressed ourselves. Brendan pulled me onto his lap, but, somehow, I didn't even mentally protest. The lips of my sex hugged his hardon, and I rubbed myself against it while helping myself to many more of Brendan's intoxicating kisses.

When he started rolling my nipples between his fingers, I couldn't take the ache in my pussy anymore, and I angled my hips to impale myself on his rod. From that point on, even though I was on top of him, Brendan took control. He bounced me on his lap with his hands on my ass cheeks, driving himself up into me as I was falling down onto him.

His stamina was impressive for the pace we'd established. After he squirted his load inside me, I collapsed into his arms, languidly kissing his body anywhere within easy reach. I admit, many of them fell onto his lips, but who could blame me for being fixated with someone who had superior make-out skills?

I thanked him several times before we separated and dressed. The journey home was terribly short. As I watched his car drive away from my house, I willed the future to allow me many more romps with Brendan.

We quit going to the theater together to maximize our time for making out and screwing. It was a lovely few months for me. The problem between us came when I'd developed feelings for him beyond what he felt for me. I still continued to fuck Brendan after that disheartening conversation, but I knew I had to find another lover to take his place, or he'd be gone someday, and I'd have no one. While still seeing him, I began to go to the library to take advantage of their recently donated computers and internet service, and I'd chat with men online.

One of my most memorable sexual experiences with Brendan was unfortunate. My mother and sisters had gone to visit relatives an hour away, and they'd planned on spending the night there. Since Brendan and I rarely had an opportunity to fornicate on furniture, I thought we should take the chance when we had it. The phone rang on two separate occasions during our foreplay, but, I figured; I didn't live there, so why should I bother? Brendan and I were well into the bump and grind when Mom walked in on us. She threw the biggest fit I'd ever seen. Screaming at us to get out, Mom punctuated her emphaticalness by repeatedly jumping up and down. The term 'hopping mad' came to mind, and I couldn't suppress my laughter as Brendan and I quickly dressed and made a bee-line out the back door. I apologized for getting us caught, but he assured me it wasn't a big deal. When I next saw Mom, she asked who my lover was and how old he was, and I lied to her to protect him. Thankfully, she believed me--good thing she wasn't much for reading newspapers! My sister later informed me it was she who had called to try to warn me of Mom's change of plans.

What did I learn with Brendan? I adopted his technique for kissing. I understood the logistics of making out and having sex in a car. I figured out that being on top of a man didn't have to make me feel as though I were in control. Biggest lesson of all: always--always--answer the phone.

Epilogue

Somewhere between the end of Brendan and me and the physical beginning of my next liason, I turned eighteen, which is the legal age of consent in my state. I don't regret any of my lovers, as they each helped me on my quest to understand sexuality. But I still had a lot to learn, and I would, though as an adult. Thus, "The Jailbait Journal" must end here.

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