Steph

Slut that is, for a very select few, included it was rumoured, the new young Math's teacher!

Now I didn't play for the rugby team, the cricket team or even for the tennis team for that matter like her 'select few' did. But I had a brand new seven series BMW with flash wheels and all the gadgets and they didn't.

Easy!

"Mary," I called out to her, crooking my finger to beckon her over. "Fancy a little drive?"

"Don't mind if I do Ken," she giggled, elbowing lesser mortals out of the way as she leapt up and swayed her lovely ass towards me.

'Don't mind if I do Ken!" I do believe they were the first words she'd ever spoken to me since I'd bumped into her in the corridor when we were about twelve, and they hadn't exactly been polite at the time.

Mary safely ensconced in the passenger seat, and a crafty stolen thrill for me as I helped her put on her seat belt, and the pair of us pulled away from the kerb, Mary with her Queen of Sheba look, me trying to keep the smirk off my face and proletariat left behind in our wake with glares of jealousy or hate, depending more or less on which sex they were.

"Where do you want to go?" I asked her, trying to play it cool, but finding it hard not to keep looking down at how high up her thighs, her already very short skirt had risen.

"How about down to the recreation ground Ken," Mary replied with an evil grin.

Gulp!

I managed a nod of my head, unable to get my vocal cords in tune for the moment. Everyone and their dog knew what a visit to the recreation ground at that time of night meant.

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"You're kidding me Ken," Mary gagged, an hour or so later, her dainty little hand working my cock, trying to resuscitate the poor worn out thing. "You were really a virgin?"

"Absolutely Mary,' I confirmed, enjoying the sight of the prettiest girl in our class lying there more or less naked on the back seat of Lenny's BMW. "You're my first. Never actually had sex before."

"I can't believe it," she smiled up at me. "I've never been fucked like that before. It was either beginners luck or you're a natural born fucking machine."

"Want to try again?" I asked, feeling my appendage beginning to revert to the condition that it was designed to function best in. A girl saying things like that to you, tends to have that effect.

"Do I?" Mary giggled. "How do you want me this time lover?"

"Whatever. You're the one with the experience," I pointed out.

"And you're the one with this beautiful cock Ken," she gasped, raising herself to straddle me, and feeding my now ready member into her more than ready opening.

"I think ..."

But my comment was cut off as she filled my mouth with her left breast, yet another pleasant new experience for me that night.

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It appears that I made quite an impression on the lovely Miss Hubbard, and by the time I dropped her off at her home in the early hours of the morning, she was waxing lyrically about what a wonderful time she'd had, and how she was going to keep my abilities a secret and keep me for herself.

Unfortunately or probably otherwise, Mary's mouth was as big as her tits, and within days every girl in the school seemed to be aware of my newly discovered prowess, and a fair percentage of them decided that they wanted their share.

Mary, bless her, was fair about it, and as long as I reserved one night and Sundays for her, then by the time I'd put aside a few nights for homework, then I still had enough time to work my way through the eager list of applicants.

It was sometimes hard work, but someone had to do it.

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There I am talking about all this sex, and you lot were probably wondering what happened to the car, weren't you.

Well after dropping Mary off that first night I drove it back and left it outside Lenny's house, thinking he might not even notice it had gone. Then I popped the keys back through his letterbox. I was tempted to throw the things away, but didn't want to risk getting accused of pinching it, and anyway, after Mary, I'd sort of lost interest in Steph a bit.

Got it wrong though didn't I!

I Put the keys through the door I thought I saw them go in through, but must have stuck them through the letterbox of the place next door.

Turned out that the BMW wasn't Lenny's after all, but his boss's, and he'd borrowed it to pick up an important client very early the next morning from the airport.

When he'd gone to take Steph home, apparently not very happy because she wouldn't go the whole way with him, he discovered the car gone, panicked and rang the police. They turned up an hour or so later, only to discover that the car reported missing was by then sitting outside his house again where I'd left it.

Strike one! They weren't very happy.

Then of course he hadn't got the keys and rang my house and got my Dad out of bed, who angrily told him that it was my birthday and that I wasn't home yet and no idea when I would be.

Strike two!

With no other option he had to ring his boss, as he had to pick the clients up a couple of hours later. Boss, needless to say, wasn't very happy.

Strike three!

Unhappy boss turns up with the spare key, opens the car that by then smelt like a brothel, and discovered Steph's bra and blouse, and a load of dubious, sticky, liquidy stuff all over his nice new upholstery. When he then found yet another bra and pair of panties that Mary must have forgotten, then apparently he went apeshit.

Strike four and counting!

My understanding that Lenny's foray into junior management ended at that point in time.

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"It's been four weeks now Ken," Steph whined when she'd eventually cornered me one lunchtime. "Can't we go back to the way we were?"

"Not sure we can Steph," I informed her gravely.

"Why not?"

"There's a whole list of reasons Steph," I told her.

"Such as?"

"Look for yourself," I replied, handing her my little red notebook, opened at the appropriate page.

"What's this all about Ken?" she demanded, running her eyes down the page open in front of her.

"It's a list of reasons why we can't go back to the way we were Steph."

"No it's not," she came back. "It's a list of girl's names. Mary Hubbard, Fran Jamieson, Lindsey Martin, Jane Stevens, Felicity Andrews; there must be twenty of them here."

"Twenty four," I corrected her. "It's a list of applicants."

"Applicants?"

"Yes applicants who want to take me for a test drive as it were."

"Who's Miss Harris then," she asked, tears forming in her eyes.

"The music teacher," I grinned at her. That one had been a surprise.

"You haven't!" Steph sobbed.

"Is there a tick against her name?"

"Yes," she answered, glaring at me.

"Draw your own conclusion then," I smiled back at her. "There's your list of reasons why we can't go back to how we were before. I can add your name on the bottom though if you want me to."

She burst out crying and sobbed something or other which I didn't understand before running off, but in fairness to her, I did make a mental note to add her name to the list just in case.

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I never did finish the list completely, a couple of the 'applicants' proving to be well worth spending a bit of extra time with. Then I went off to University for three years and started a new list. Never got beyond three though and it didn't need to.

Lenny?

Well a few years later I spotted him stacking shelves in the local supermarket. Could have been someone that looked like him of course, because he didn't respond to my greeting, and he seemed to have lost some of that swagger that he used to have.

Then again the greeting, 'How's your luck shitface', tends not to endear someone to you. Especially since in the years that I'd last seen him, I'd grown from a boy to a man and probably outweighed him in terms of muscle.

Steph?

Sorry but the two of us got married.

Played the field and had my fun and eventually bedded her when I came home from university.

Discovered she was still a genuine, full-blooded virgin if you know what I mean, but even so, I would have expected a bit more passion and activity from her, and it wasn't the 'special' day she'd promised me a few years before.

Steph wasn't very happy at all when I dumped her, and we eventually did get married but it wasn't to one another!

Steph got hitched to an old school friend of ours and as far as I can see, they both seem reasonably happy, though she still gives me those puppy-dog looks every time I see her, no doubt wondering what could have been.

Me?

Well Mary, you remember her, promised me that she'd sown all the wild oats she needed to, and so far, the prettiest young wife in the neighbourhood has been good to her word, and I anticipate us living happily ever after.

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The end