Steph

No graphic sex.
No wives actually burnt at the stake.
Not a true story.
You've been warned.

++++++++++++

It was my eighteenth birthday and I was sort of hoping that it was going to be special, and my girlfriend Steph had sort of hinted that it just might be.

At the time we were both still at school and in the same year even, though Steph was actually some four months older than me. We'd been going steady for the whole of our final year at our school, the pair of us two of the brighter students and both expected to pass our exams and get into one of the good universities. The same university if we had anything to do with it, as even at that young age, we saw our futures forever linked.

Steph was a pretty girl in a class of mainly pretty girls; tits nowhere as big as some of them, but legs probably longer and more shapely than most. Some of her classmates had gained themselves a certain reputation, a few more and a few less so, but my Steph, as much as I may have wished otherwise, was a confirmed virgin, and often reminded me that she intended to stay so, until the right moment.

Ok, we messed around like all young couples do, and I knew what her tits felt like, even though I'd never really seen them properly.

Beyond that? No chance!

So I found myself still a virgin, a rapidly disappearing species amongst my pals, and I had no great wish to be the only one preventing it from being declared extinct.

So that's why I was looking forward so much to that evening, doubtful that I'd get to home base as it were, but certainly with some expectations of progressing our relationship. Was that night to be the 'right moment'?

It was young love but oh so real at the time, the sort of love that twisted your gut when you had to say goodnight, the sort that found you dreaming of later when you should have been concentrating on what your teacher was saying.

Yes, I had it bad, and so did she.

------------------

We started the evening out by going to one of the popular pubs in town, not my first visit to such a place, but now at eighteen, my first fully legal one.

"A pint of Bombadier and a gin and lemon please," I ordered full of confidence at my new status, ordering drinks at a bar for the first time ever.

"How old are you son?" demanded the barman, puncturing my confidence.

"Eighteen," I told him. "It's my birthday."

"You don't look it," he further deflated me with. "Got any identification?"

"I don't need ID," I protested. "I'm eighteen."

"Sorry lad but I can't take the risk," he went on. "You don't look eighteen, so no identification, then no alcoholic drinks."

"But I haven't got any identification," I told him. "I didn't know I needed any."

"The sign's quite clear lad," he said pointing to the sign above the bar, a sign that in a few short sentences made it quite clear that I simply wasn't going to get served.

"Haven't you got a driver's license?"

"Yes, but not with me," I groaned. "I haven't got a car."

"Sorry, can't help you," he ended our conversation with, and I was effectively dismissed.

My face burning with shame, I eased my way back through the customers crowding round it, convinced that they'd all heard the debacle, and that they were all laughing at me.

What a bloody start to my birthday evening out!

Maybe Steph would have something with her, at least her driving license, I thought, as I made my way back to where I'd left her. I was hardly looking forward to having to ask my girlfriend to have to go and get the drinks for us, but there didn't seem to be anything else to do.

"You what?" was her reaction, when I explained what had happened. "You take me out and you expect me to go and get the drinks?"

"I'll pay," I whined unhappily. "You just have to go and get them."

She wasn't happy, any more than I was, but with a flick of her long blonde hair, she gave me her jacket to hold, and started to thread her way through the crowd towards the bar, my chest tightening as she stopped at least twice to chat briefly with groups of guys that she somehow seemed to know. Her giggle when one of them playfully slapped her on the bottom as she left them, hardly improving my humour.

"Here you are Ken," Steph eventually got back to me with, handing me a glass of something that obviously wasn't the beer I was expecting."

"What's this?" I asked, noting that she had the gin and lemon that she'd wanted.

"Orangina. He wouldn't serve me with anything alcoholic for you," Steph growled. "He must have seen you with me and refused."

"Did you show him your driver's license then?"

"He never asked," she told me, and oh boy, did that make me feel small.

I wanted to go, but she didn't, saying she liked the sophisticated atmosphere. It was nothing of the sort of course, but to a couple of eighteen year olds embarking on life's great adventure, then it certainly did seem so. Steph was all eyes, looking around her excitedly, pointing out the odd person that she and sometimes we knew, all of them older than me which did little for my already shattered confidence.

I wanted to leave or maybe crawl into some corner somewhere, especially when I found myself clutching my second Orangina. I was about to put my foot down to insist that we found somewhere else, or better still move onto the next part of our proposed night out, when the date that had promised so much took a further nosedive.

"Hi Ken," someone greeted me from behind. "Who's this you're with?"

Oh shit!

"Hi Lenny," I greeted my ex neighbour from up the street. My five year older, three inches taller and far broader shouldered, until recently neighbour. The one that had bullied me when we were younger, though in fairness more recently had run off a couple of local roughs who had been giving me a hard time.

"This is my girlfriend Steph," I introduced him. "You must have seen her at my house before."

"You mean that pretty young thing in the school uniform," he grinned, addressing himself directly at her. "You're telling me this young darling is still at school? I doubt she'd be allowed to wear a skirt that short to school, would she?"

I reluctantly agreed, Steph fluttered her long eyelids and generally bubbled, while Lenny wriggled his way round me to plonk himself firmly right alongside her.

"So what are you doing out with a dweeb like Ken," he asked her, laughing and jabbing me on the arm as if to make a joke of it, though it hardly felt like that to me.

"It's his eighteenth birthday today," my girlfriend informed him. "I'm a bit older than him of course, but ...."

She left the rest of her comment unspoken, shrugging her shoulders as if that said it all.

I'm Lenny," he introduced himself, me having pointedly failed to do so, hoping he might take the hint and leave us alone.

"I know," Steph surprised me with. "Lenny Jones. You used to go out with my cousin Gorgina Flowers."

"Golly, that must have been six or seven years ago," he answered, half turning his back to me as he concentrated on her. "You're not telling me you're that skinny little kid that we used to babysit?"

"The very same," she admitted, grinning wildly.

"My God, have you grown up," Lenny went on, leaning back to give him room to give her a long, unhurried look up and down. "You never had legs like that back in those days."

"There's lots of things I didn't have back then," she squealed girlishly, whether by accident or design, leaning back against the wall behind her, and sticking her small but firm and pointy breasts out at him. "You used to put me on your knee and tickle me."

"And you used to squeal like crazy," he reminded her, laughing out at the memory. "But you always came back for more."

"I had a crush on you Lenny," she admitted, blushing deeply. "I used to fantasize about being your girlfriend when I grew up."

"Well, you're real grown up now girl," Lenny responded, almost growling, again raking her body with his eyes.

"Steph and I were just leaving," I butted in, well pissed off by the direction their conversation was going.

"Oh don't go yet," he retorted, still not facing me. "Let's get you another drink."

"I don't think ...."

"Thanks," Steph interrupted me. "Mine's a gin and lemon please Lenny."

"Get them in Ken. Here's a twenty," Lenny jumped in with, digging some money out of his pocket and thrusting it at me. "A double gin and lemon for the beautiful young lady here, a pint of Directors for me, and whatever you want for yourself."

"They won't serve him," Steph smirked, adding to my embarrassment. "They don't think he's eighteen and wouldn't serve him."

"The bugger they won't," he at least seemed to sympathize with me. "Tell Joe behind the bar that you're with Lenny and you'll be alright."

My admittedly half hearted objections were ignored, and I found myself being eased away from the two of them in the general direction of the bar, at least somewhat consoled with the prospect of a beer at last, rather than sickly soft drink I'd had to put up with.

Of course when I got there, it was much busier than before, and it seemed to take ages to get served, the three barmen seeming to look straight through me whenever I tried to get their attention.

But at last!

"Double gin and lemon, and two pints of Directors please."

"Didn't the manager refuse you earlier," the new barman, probably not much older than me demanded.

"Lenny said to say I'm with him," I spluttered out, suddenly feeling like a pathetic little message boy, trying to do a man's job."

"You mean Lenny Jones?"

"Yes," I answered. "He's over by the back wall."

"That him with his arm round that blonde?" He asked, staring out over the heads of the crowd round the bar." "Haven't seen him with her before."

"That's him," I croaked, wondering whether I should rush back and tell him where to stuff his bloody drinks.

"Right mate," the barman came back, a few moments later. "One double gin and lemon and one pint. What do you want?"

"A pint," I replied in confusion. "I ordered two pints."

"Sorry, no can do," he came back, offering me a sympathetic smile. "Boss says no."

"Half a pint then," I attempted, but he just shook his head.

"A bloody coke then," I backed down, not being able to stomach yet another damn Orangina.

He poured it for me, and I paid him, leaving him a ridiculously high tip for the hell of it. It wasn't my money.

-------------------

I couldn't find them.

They weren't where I'd left them.

My heart sank, fearing the worst, that bloody Lenny had stole my girl.

"Over here Ken," Came as a relief, when I spotted them just a few feet away, having obviously found a vacant table. Not such a relief when I discovered that Lenny had purloined the place on the bench seat next to Steph, and that I had to sit on the stool opposite them.

"Didn't get yourself a beer then Ken?" Lenny questioned me, but at least he didn't snicker like Steph did, when I explained what had happened.

The next hour was a nightmare.

I sat there twiddling my thumbs while the two of them got cosier and cosier, recounting the old memories, but mainly Steph sitting there in raptures while Lenny told her about his new, well paid junior management job, his new apartment, new BMW and how he'd scored three goals for his team at football recently. All the while with me getting more and more angry, while the two of them moved closer and closer, his arm over the top of her shoulders, the tips of his fingers uncomfortably close to the top of her cleavage.

Cleavage?

When the hell did she undo those two extra buttons?

I managed to get a few words in edgewise, and the two of them listened politely, going back to their own conversation when I finished, without so much as acknowledging what I'd said.

Eventually I'd had enough!

"Right I'm going Steph," I announced, standing up. "Are you coming with me or not?"

She stopped whatever it was she was saying to him, and looked up at me uncertainly.

"Going where?" She asked at last. "I'm comfortable here."

"Well I'm not!" I retorted, probably a bit too loudly. "Some bloody birthday this has been. I'm off."

"Oh Ken," she gasped, putting her hand to her mouth. "I'm so sorry. I got so involved that I forgot."

"Well?" I demanded, and Steph looked back and forward between the two of us, a picture of indecision, the bloody bitch obviously weighing up the pros and cons of dumping me for the evening.

"Christ Ken," Lenny piped up to break the silence. "It's your eighteenth birthday and you haven't had a proper drink yet have you?"

"Thanks for noticing," I answered sarcastically.

"We'll have to put that right then, won't we," he told us, finishing the dregs of his pint, and pulling Steph to her feet alongside him. "Let's go find ourselves someplace where Ken here can get a proper drink."

Great," added Steph, knocking back her own drink, more already than I suspect she'd ever drank before. "Lead on Lenny."

I found myself making my way out of the pub, following the two of them, as Lenny guided my girlfriend though the crowd with his hand at her waist, trying to ignore the fact that he seemed to lose track of quite where here waist ended and her round, mini skirted bottom started.

-------------------

"You've passed your driving test haven't you Ken?" Lenny asked, when we found ourselves outside in the car park.

"Yes but I've never ....." was as far as I got to explain that I'd never driven anything like his BMW before.

"Here, you drive," he directed me, offering me the keys. "I've had a few to drink and you haven't, so best you drive."

"But I've never ...."

"Stick the key in that slot, your foot on the clutch and push that button," I was instructed, and I have to confess to my shame, that the prospect of having a go at a powerful BMW influenced my action. Not saying I wasn't still well pissed off, but we were going somewhere where they'd serve me a drink, and meanwhile I was getting to drive a BMW. A real one!

I followed his instructions and within moments was nosing my way out into the traffic, following Lenny's instruction to turn left. Just a bit different to the Ford Fiesta that I'd done my driving lessons in, which was also the last time I'd even got to drive a car.

Only then did it occur to me, as I cautiously changed up into second gear, that Lenny had got in the back with my girlfriend!

-----------------

"Carry straight on and turn right by the church," he gave me instructions, and I, in total innocence followed them.

"Straight on for three miles and keep your eyes on the road Ken," he said, as I nervously but successfully managed to navigate the big car through the junction by the church. If Steph hadn't giggled, then I might have thought nothing of it.

But she did!

'Keep my eyes on the road, eh?"

I couldn't look round, but I could and did adjust the rear view mirror, only to almost hit a parked car as my eyes focussed in.

Shit!

My girl was in a clinch with Lenny, their lips locked together, one of his arms round her back, and the other fiddling with the buttons on her blouse. The few that seemed to be still left done up that is.

Shit! Steph, my girlfriend was letting the bastard feel up her tits!

Jesus! It had taken me six months to get to explore her body that far, and that was as far as I'd ever gotten.

"Careful Ken," Lenny called from the back, having felt the car swerve.

"Where the hell are we going?" I pleaded pathetically, hoping it was nearby, so they'd have to stop before it went too far.

"Pull in after the third lamp post."

"There's no pub here," I pointed out the obvious, seeing as we'd pulled up in a typical suburban street.

"We're at my new place Ken," I was informed. "None of the pubs will serve you without ID these days, but I've got some beers in the fridge."

"Now look Lenny," I started to make my case for leaving, the words dying in my throat as I turned round to face them in the back.

"It undoes at the front Lenny," my girlfriend whispered, as he laboured unsuccessfully to find the clasp at the back of her bra, her blouse having already disappeared somewhere since I'd last looked.

"Here grab this Ken," he soon called to me, throwing Steph's bra over to me, having successfully removed it.

"Don't you dare lose it," she called, sitting there shamelessly, her bare breasts out on display, hardly the best set of circumstances to see your girl's bare tits for the first time ever. Even less so when Lenny reached up and started to squeeze them playfully.

"Fucking stop that!" I screamed at the pair of them.

"He's right Steph," Lenny agreed to my relief, though it didn't last for long.

"Come on you two, let's go up to my place and get some beers," he continued, grabbing Steph's hand and dragging her out of the car with him.

"Stop," she screamed, fighting him as he tried to drag her right out of the car. "Where's my blouse and things?"

"What do you want them for?" He laughed, tugging at her hand.

"I can't walk to your door with my boobs hanging out," she protested.

"Why not?"

"Somebody might see me."

"So what? They're gorgeous."

"But I can't."

"Oh yes you can," he chuckled, pulling a wildly giggling Steph from the car, and with his arm round her waist, leading her a few doors up the road towards his place.

"Oh what the hell," she laughed out loud, dropping her hands from her breasts and traipsing off with him, her bouncy little breasts sticking out proud and bare to the world at large, while I continued to sit there in the car in amazement, and thoroughly pissed off with the world in general.

Not sure what would have happened, and I suppose they assumed I'd just follow them. But I didn't. I simply sat there for a good ten minutes after they'd disappeared through his front door, wondering whether I should just get out of his car and go home.

Then I had a better idea!

A much better idea.

Key back in the slot, foot on the clutch and I pushed that damn button again. A few moments later and I was threading Larry's very expensive, very new and very flashy BMW through the traffic, making my way to the other side of town to the park where I knew that a whole bunch of my schoolmates would be hanging out.

Boy, were they going to be impressed!

It was only when I got there that it occurred to me that it wouldn't only be my guy mates there but a bunch of the girls from our school as well, and a few others that I didn't even know.

It was only when I got there and they, and especially the girls, spotted that it was yours truly getting out from behind the steering wheel, that I fully realised what a pulling machine a flash car was.

"This your car?" some blonde that I didn't know asked me, breaking away from the group that were stood there, staring in disbelief at the car I'd just driven up in.

"Hi Ken," gushed Lindsey Martin, one of the real 'in crowd' with looks to match, as she pushed the blonde aside and sidled up beside me.

"Nice car Ken," giggled Jane Stevens, Miss torpedo tits of our class, who'd never given me a moment of her time before and was now apparently trying to hustle her way in.

"Can I have a sit in it?"

"Can you drive me home Ken?"

"Is it yours?"

"What are you doing later Ken?"

"Will you be my tennis partner Ken?"

The questions flew in thick and fast from some of the hottest girls around, and I stood there saying nothing, just smiling and shrugging my shoulders at the appropriate moment.

Boy, was I so cool!

Then I spotted her.

Mary Hubbard.

Mary Hubbard was smiling at me knowingly, knowing that the other girls wouldn't have a chance in hell if she decided that she wanted me.

Mary bloody Hubbard, the king pin, or should it be queen pin of the senior class, with the longest legs, bounciest tits, intoxicating smile, an ass to die for and the reputation as the biggest slut in the class.