When I was twelve I was the absolute craziest little cock-tease you've ever heard of.

I didn't know at the time what a cock-tease was but looking back I know that's what I was. Over the past year or so I'd noticed boys and men of all ages starting to check me out, especially when I wore tight clothing or scoop neckline blouses that revealed my meager cleavage. When other women talk to me about the "awkwardness" of puberty I have to pretend I understand. For me there was never anything awkward about my developing body. In fact I found myself enjoying it more and more every day.

One thing I used to do to tease boys at school was get to the school bus before any of my friends. I'd find an open seat near the back next to the target of my teasing ways, sit down, and wait. As soon as one of my friends got on the bus I'd wave her over and offer her my seat.

"You take this seat, I can just sit on Michael's lap. You don't mind do you, Mike?"

Over the dozens of times I pulled that little stunt I never once had a boy turn me down. I'd sit on his lap, chat with the friend next to me, all the while very much aware of the erection growing in the boy's lap. While pretending not to notice I would even sort of squirm my tight little butt into his growing hard on. When the ride got bumpy I really had some fun and would intentionally exaggerate the impact of any bump in the road. I was dry humping boys before I even knew what dry humping was.

No one ever called me out on that particular game and as far as I know none of my friends ever got wise to what I was doing. The boys on the bus, though, seemed to figure it out. I only quit doing it after a fight broke out on the bus when one of my former victims violently pushed another boy out of the seat next to him. I witnessed the whole fight and knew the reason behind it and was totally flattered at the notion a boy would get into a fight over me. That idea really turned me on. The thing I realized that day, though, was that my game had become an open secret, at least among the boys. I had to stop doing it or I risked getting a bad reputation.

My efforts to flaunt my developing body were aided by my mom. She'd given birth to me right out of high school and I think she enjoyed reliving her youth through me. She'd buy me any outfit I wanted, even thongs and the skimpiest of bikinis, and often bought me outfits I didn't need or ask for just because she thought I'd look "sexy-cute" in them.

Yes, that's literally what she would say. "I bought you a new dress, just wait until you see it! You're going to look sexy-cute in it, I'm just sure of it!"

Early on during my 7th grade year in school I was sent home for wearing a dress that violated the school dress code. It was too short, I was told, and I received a one day in-school suspension for it. My mom went nuts when she found out. She ended up going down to the school and chewing out the assistant principal. When Mrs. Walker defended the school policy by saying my attire had been growing increasingly inappropriate my mom really hit the roof. She ended up raising hell with the school board and made such a fuss about the whole thing that my suspension was rescinded.

It was nice having my mom in my corner but looking back she was probably a pretty bad influence on me. She was daddy's little girl and he was well off financially so she never had to work. Instead she partied constantly and I was accustomed to her coming home with strange men all the time, often drunk.

Her version of the "birds and the bees" talk sort of sums her up. Shortly after the suspension for my inappropriately short dress she told me, "That Mrs. Walker is just a dried up old maid who's jealous that you've gotten more dicks hard in your twelve years than she has in her seventy."

I'd had sex ed at school the year before so I knew a little bit about sex. My mom's comment about Mrs. Walker, though, confused the hell out of me. I said, "What do you mean? I've never, uhm ... you know, gotten a boy's dick hard..."

She laughed. "Sweetie, believe me, you have. Half your cousins were hiding their hard-ons when you wore that blue bikini at Grandpa's pool last Memorial Day. The half who didn't were the girls!"

She laughed at that and patted my shoulder proudly. It was shortly after that little speech that I started my school bus game. Getting boys hard, I found out, was even better than just having them look at me and it was around that time I learned what masturbation was and why boys did it. My mom, once again, was the one to explain all that to me.

"Men need to cum at least once a day, usually," she said matter of factly. "Even if they don't have a woman and most of the time even when they do. It's just the way it is."

"But what do they do?" I asked, confused. "I mean, what do they do? To uhm ... you know ... ejaculate?"

She chuckled and made the universal hand gesture for jerking off. "They jack it. With a few good tugs and a nudie magazine or sometimes just a vivid imagination, they blow their load all over themselves. Trust me, Hon, you'll never learn to give a better hand job than a man can give himself. They get too much practice. When the time comes do yourself a favor and focus on getting good at blowjobs and actual fucking instead."

After that talk I started feeling horny pretty much all the time. I mean, the idea of a boy or man jerking off to me was the ultimate high for an attention whore cock-tease like me during that confusing time in my life. I started getting wet between my immature legs while thinking about it sometimes, a new development that worried me at first.

"Oh, that's just ... well, you remember how I explained how a boy's dick gets hard when they're ready to have sex?" my mom explained.

I nodded.

"Usually, not all the time but usually, a woman's vagina gets wet when she's ready to have sex," she said in her characteristically blunt manner. "It's your body's way of preparing you to be penetrated. Believe me if you can't get wet and you're about to have sex, make sure you have some lube around. I've kept a spare bottle in my purse since I was fourteen."

All of these changes to my body, all of these revelations about boys and masturbation and getting wet, all of it was enough to implode my young mind. It was around this time that I forced myself to quit my school bus lap game but I was by no means done with teasing and taunting boys with my body. If anything I was more determined than ever to do just that.

I began flirting in a very amateurish, very transparent, very inexpert way. I never limited my flirtations to just the boys I was actually interested in, either. Fat or thin, ugly or cute, man or boy, I flirted, I teased, and I led on.

One day while exiting the bus and while wearing a short dress I purposely dropped a pencil. When I bent over to pick it up I glanced over my shoulder and saw the bus driver, Mr. Daniels, staring up my dress. That little trick turned me on so much that a few days later I repeated it with one minor change: before the end of school I'd removed my panties. The look on Mr. Daniels' face after bending over that day sent shivers of delight through my body.

My mom had some sage advice for me about flirting, too. "Leading men on is always a good idea at first, especially if they have money," she said. "Eventually you have to put out. You can't lead them on forever but believe me you can get a lot out of a man if you learn how to tempt them with the promise of your body."

"How will I know when I'm ready?" I asked. "To ... you know, do it, I mean?"

I'll never forget the almost taunting little smile on her face when I asked her that. She said, "Leah, darling? One of these days, sometime soon, you'll be kissing a boy and he'll be feeling you up and he'll finally get the courage to go into your pants. If that gets you wet, you'll know you're ready."

My mom, in case you couldn't guess, was never a contender for the Mother of the Year award.

Part of me sort of rejected the outright slutty attitude my mom had about things but in the end I couldn't deny that I was my mother's daughter. Like her I was short, barely 5'5" tall, thin, and already growing what would one day turn into large C-cup breasts, just like hers. Also like her my hair was soft and blonde, my eyes large and green, and my butt was tight and round. Most importantly, though, like her I was sort of obsessed with getting the attention of men.

At thirty years of age she was an attractive, fully matured fruit. I was still a ripening one.

All the same I tried my hardest to be subtle about the little games I played. I didn't want my friends to think I was some sort of slut or something. Looking back, though, it was sort of inevitable that my behavior was going to get me into trouble. That day finally came in the midst of an unseasonably hot January heat wave in southern California where I lived.

Every January my mom went on a three week vacation with six of her closest friends to Las Vegas. During that vacation I stayed with my grandpa. He lived close to us and there was even a bus stop near his house so school wasn't affected. That particular year, the twelfth of my life, all the craziness I'd been going through hormonally finally came to a head.

My grandfather doted on my mom but he treated me more like the way he treated my aunt. He was very strict to the point of being severe. His cold, stern demeanor had led my aunt to hard core alcoholism and a string of husbands, none of whom ever treated her right. While my mom had gotten pregnant early at least she hadn't gotten pregnant often. My aunt, on the other hand, had five children and she was barely 35.

My four uncles were also treated extremely well by my grandpa. Like my aunt, though, he treated me like a felon. His rules while I stayed with him were extremely harsh to the point of being ridiculous. Outside the presence of my mom he would openly criticize the way I dressed, the way I spoke, the way I behaved. He had an uncanny ability to find fault in almost everything I did.

That's why I always dreaded that yearly vacation my mom took. It's also why I was extremely glad, the first day of my stay with him, that my friend Marie invited me to spend the night at her house.

It was a Friday and the truth is I'd had to sort of guilt trip Marie into inviting me to spend the night. We were chatting online and I was bitching about my grandfather and his totalitarian ways and hinting that I'd like to spend the night. Eventually she relented and did just that. I was overjoyed.

"Behave yourself," my grandpa told me after dropping me off at her house. "I don't want a repeat of last year."

The year before I'd spent the night at another friend's house and ended up getting grounded because I fell while roller-blading and fractured my wrist. Yep, that's the kind of guy my grandfather was: he grounded his 11 year old grand daughter for getting injured in an accident.

Marie was a nice girl but she wasn't exactly my best friend. Truth was we had little in common. She wore very conservative clothing to cover for her thick, unattractive little body. I preferred movies, she preferred books. When it came to boys? Marie had absolutely no interest whereas I was pretty much obsessed.

The main reason I had wanted to spend the night at her house when, in fact, I could have asked any number of other friends, was that I had recently developed a hard-core crush on her older brother, Dennis. He was fifteen at the time and had a sort of "bad boy" look about him. He wore dark clothes, had stylishly messy brown hair, and a moustache that, in retrospect, was actually sort of lame.

Early on that evening at Marie's house I was sitting with her in her bedroom bored to tears. I was trying to think of an excuse, any excuse, to go see her brother. Finally I just said, "Hey, do you want to go for a swim?"

"No," she said, visibly relieved. "But go ahead. I'm almost done with this really good book, I'll just stay here and read."

Typical, I thought, somehow managing not to roll my eyes. I said, "Okay! I'll just do a few laps."

"Take your time," she said helpfully.

On my way down the hallway to change into my two piece I stumbled across Dennis. He was exiting his room and literally bumped into me. "Oops!" I said. "Sorry!"

"No problem," he said in his self confident manner. "So what's up?"

"Oh nothing," I said, intentionally sounding sheepish as I fluttered my eyelids at him. Like I said before I was a total amateur when it came to flirting. "Just going to change for a swim. What're you doing?"

He shrugged non-chalantly. "Nothing much. But hey, there's something downstairs that's pretty cool. Want to check it out?"

I was surprised. "Uhm, sure," I said. "Let me change first though." I really, really wanted to display my tight little body to him in my brand new bikini.

"Nah, let me show you first," he said, grinning to me and heading down the stairs. "Come on."

Disappointed that I hadn't been able to change into my sexy bikini but unwilling to risk annoying the boy I was so hung up on, I followed.

When we got to the main floor of the house he led me to the basement door. "It's down here," he said. "Come on."

"Okay," I said slowly, confused by now but a little curious, too.

We descended the stairs to the mostly empty unfinished basement and he led me to the far corner of the dimly lit room. "What is it?" I asked.

He smiled at me. "You like me, don't you?" he said in a soft voice.

Oh my god! I thought. Suddenly flustered and embarrassed I giggled and said, "Uhm, why do you say that?"

He moved closer to me. "Come on, admit it," the fifteen year old said. "Last week at Marie's birthday party you couldn't keep your eyes off of me. You were pretty obvious."

I blushed. He was even closer to me now and I had unconsciously backed up to the point my back was against the cold cement wall. "Uhm ... I do, I guess ... do you like me?" I said, suddenly feeling as though the huntress had become the prey.

"I do," he said softly. He placed his hand on the wall just above my right shoulder and leaned in close. "Do you want me to kiss you?"

I didn't want to, I knew it was childish, but at the end of the day I was just a child so I couldn't stop myself from giggling. "Do you want to?" I said while batting my eyes which I had to force to even look at him. I was so nervous! "Kiss me, I mean?"

"I do," he grinned.

"Okay," I said.

I couldn't believe it. I was finally going to have my first kiss! My thoughts were going a mile a minute and drifted back to what my mom had told me about kissing and being felt up and getting wet. How far was this going to go? My young heart was all a pitter-patter as I closed my eyes and waited for his lips.

"Take off your clothes."

Now my eyes snapped open. This isn't how it's supposed to go! I thought.

"What?!?"

"Come on, take them off," he said, that bad-boy smile still on his face. "Don't be shy. I want to see you naked first, before we kiss."

I was totally flabbergasted. I had absolutely no idea what to say. Suddenly the proximity of his large, gangling body to my small, barely matured one felt a little less intimate and a lot more threatening. I said, "I, uhm ... I just wanted a kiss..."

"Don't be a baby," he said. "Take off your clothes. I'll take mine off. Here."

With that he proceeded to peel off his dark Metallica tee shirt. My heart skipped a beat as he pushed down his black denim jeans. When he was clad only in his boxer shorts he leaned in close to me again, hand on the cement wall, and said, "See? No big deal. Your turn."