She took a fistful of my hair and she pulled my head backward, toward her, until my back was arched and my face was touching hers. Still standing behind me on the dance floor, she brushed her lips on the tender skin of my cheeks, up to my right ear, and whispered: "I think you are in trouble, girl."nnI could not see her clearly, and I did not dare turn my head, but I knew exactly who had grabbed me so firmly and would not let me go. I had spotted her right away, the minute I entered this all-dyke Halloween party. How could I have missed her? There were still a few tables left, but she was just standing there, tall and fierce, in full Halloween butch attire. Only, it did not look like a costume on her. Tonight, she was the knight, dressed in leather and metal, and from her looks, one could tell she was prepared to face the dragon. Or the slutty damsel.nnFeeling whorish in my saloon girl costume, I was there, dancing, showing off, revealing half of my tits, the tender skin between the upper band of my fishnet stockings and the seam of my underskirt, which I had rolled up and clipped up each thigh until it barely hid my crotch. The corset that was cinching my waist was putting all the attention on my pulled out buttocks and my pushed up breasts. My outfit made me look like an old fashion whore and made me move and dance like a genuine slut.nnShe had spotted me too; I knew it from the look on her face. She just stared at me calmly, confidently, as if she knew from the start that she would get me in her bed tonight. Her features remained undecipherable, but I could see her eyes following me as I moved about the room, going to the bar and coming back with a drink, getting up and jumping on the dance floor. All along the way, I knew there were greedy, butchy eyes studying me.nnMy friends did not feel like dancing, so I joined the wiggling lesbian crowd all by myself. Alone with a hundred of sexy dykes moving to the same beat, I could feel the sexual surge all around me, the collective desires of dozens of horny women, and the deep thrust of techno music into my willing body. Strong rhythms arouse me, and I feel as if I could make out right there on the spot if I met my match on the dance floor.nnI knew she was watching.

Chapter 3: My First Blow-JobnnJust over two weeks after Patrick had eaten my pussy for the first time I gave my first ever blow-job. It was a Friday night and it was at my friend, Nicki's, 18th birthday party.nnThe guy in question was called Stevie; he was the older brother of one of Nicki's other friends. The reason I was with him was because Patrick and I had had a row over something pretty inconsequential a few days before and, at the last minute, he decided he wasn't going. Stevie was, I admit, very good looking and when he started chatting me up, I decided I wasn't going to turn down the advances of one of the fittest guys there (yes, I am that shallow).nnAs the evening went on, I (of course) had had a few drinks and was a little bit giddy. I'd been dancing with Stevie most of the night and I'd taken every opportunity to rub myself against him, discovering, not surprisingly, that he was more than mildly interested. Stevie wasn't shy in coming forward either and he never missed a chance to feel my tits or caress my arse. There again, the fact that we spent a fair bit of time with our tongues down each other's throats was also a bit of a give away.nnAt some point he decided we might want to see if we could find somewhere a little more private. I readily agreed although it soon transpired that there wasn't a free room in the house, although not before I'd discreetly investigated the noises coming (or should that be cumming?) from behind Nicki's bedroom door. I'd pretty much expected her boyfriend, Craig to be there, I hadn't counted on the other guy (who's name I didn't know and now can't remember) being there as well. There again, I shouldn't have been too surprised; Nicki's never had a problem when it comes to pulling. I have to say, the brief glimpse of my one of best friends being 'spit-roasted' was a huge turn on.nnAnyway, as it turned out, neither Stevie nor I had any condoms and I wasn't on the pill so he wasn't going to be stealing my somewhat dubious virtue. With that in mind, we decided to go for a walk.nnAt the time, Nicki lived in North Berwick (if you get the train into Edinburgh from East Lothian, you've probably seen her on numerous occasions as part of the gaggle of our fellow pupils who use that train every day to get to and from School) and her house was pretty close to the shore. Stevie and I walked along the shore for about 15 minutes before we came to a suitably secluded spot.nnWe sat down on a bench and started snogging again, becoming ever more heated as time passed (which was just as well as it was early March and still pretty cold.

Jake reached for his alarm clock, knocking empty beer cans and bags of chips onto the ground. He picked up the clock frantically trying to shut it off. It was 4:30 in the morning. I must have accidentally set this thing for the wrong time, he thought. Resigning to his lack of patience for the beeping of the alarm and his lack of coordination to turn it off, he picked the clock up and threw it at the wall. The fate of the clock was determined by the cease of sound. Good, thought Jake. No more fucking noise.nnJake had fallen into a broken bachelor's routine. He rarely saw his friends, rarely went outside. His tour had finished a few weeks ago and since, he'd been inside his house, eating crap from bags and watching bad television. He hadn't bothered with personal grooming – who was there to impress? He lived like a slob; he was behaving uncharacteristically. Even worse, he'd lost his motivation to pick up his guitar and write music. It was incredibly depressing.nnThe pounding on the door was relentless. Didn't I break my alarm already? Jake rubbed his eyes, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. His curtains were pulled tightly together, making his room as dark as a cave, so Jake was quite surprised when he opened his bedroom door and sunlight poured into the room. He staggered over to the front door and opened it, not bothering to ask who it was.

Authors Note: This story is the continuation of the sexual education of Jack Johnson, a high school senior, chronicled in the 20 part series, "Jack's Education". The story continues on the day that Jack's mother, a highly successful trial lawyer, is about to leave on a trip to San Francisco to conduct an important trial that is expected to last 6-9 months, leaving Jack alone in the house with the freedom to engage in any activities he wishes. Now read on:nn*nnJack was up bright and early the next day, after having had a good night's sleep. Then he remembered what had happened with his mother the previous night. At first he wondered if it had all been a dream, or had he really fucked his mother? Then, as he got out of bed he saw a pair of panties lying on the floor, and realized that it definitely had not been a dream, and that he had really had full sexual relations with her. He didn't know how he was going to face her this morning, but took some consolation in the fact that she was leaving for an extended business trip that day, so if there were any awkward moments at least they would only be temporary, and there would be no temptation to repeat the experience. nnHe went up to the kitchen, where Maria was preparing breakfast. "Good morning, Jack!" she greeted him, cheerfully, as if nothing had happened. "Ready for some breakfast?"nn"Good morning, mom," he replied. "Yes, I'm starving!"nn"Even after that big dinner last night?" she teased.nn"Surprising, eh?" he responded, as he sat down at the table, where two places had already been laid. "Last night I didn't think I'd need to eat for a week!" nnHis mother brought their plates of bacon and eggs to the table and as they started to eat, Jack began, "Mom, about last night."nnHis mother interrupted him, saying, "Jack, I really owe you an apology about what happened last night.