[DiegoJames]

When I was 17 I used to get the bus home from school and Jill, the 18 year old girl who lived next door to me, and went to a different school, was on it too.

She looked...rather plain and not a stunner by any stretch of the imagination, and because of this she became the butt of some other fellow pupils jokes on the bus. So much so that I would regularly have to wade into this form of bullying to defend her because I thought the bullying was wrong and because she was my neighbour. So she started to wait at the bus stop to make sure I was on the bus so that her 'knight in shining armour', as she took to calling me, could and did defend her.

We weren't, other than that, close. Conversation on the walk home from the bus stop pretty much revolved around homework.

Anyway...cut to near the end of the summer holidays and I'd not seen her since school broke up as we had our own circles of friends. My parents were at work and the doorbell rang one really wet lunchtime. It was Jill, who was now waiting for results in order to go on to university, while I was going into my last year. She had some books she no longer needed, notes on Shakespeare plays and the like, and she asked if I wanted them. Great! It would save me some money to take these rather than buy copies.

In the pre-internet, pre mobile phone days, older readers may recall, a really wet day in summer meant you could do almost...nothing!

I'd been in my bedroom, listening to records, bored insensible and playing Solitaire. I invited her in, we went up to my bedroom. There was nothing irregular with that, our bedrooms became our dens and whenever we called with anyone or they with us the bedroom was the gathering place of choice. The posters on the walls and records in a pile were our identity in our space.

We chatted for a while, mostly about her dreams for university. I don't remember how or why we got onto the subject or why, perhaps it was the deck of cards on my desk, but next thing I know we're in a game of strip poker to while away a miserable summer's afternoon.

I'd lose a hand, she'd lose a hand. I'd lose a hand, she'd lose a hand. I'm down to my boxer shorts and she's in bra and panties and I'm holding a flush. I'm pretty sure I'm about to win, my heart's pounding in my throat but simultaneously thinking she'll chicken out if she loses.

Sure enough, she loses. Ever the 'knight in shining armour' I say 'that was fun, would you like a cup of tea?', wanting to save her from embarrassment.

Rather than make excuses or call the game to a halt, and to my total shock, Jill reaches behind her, unclips her bra and throws it on my bed. Man!!!!!! She may not have been a looker but her breasts were perfect! I'd be pretty confident I was the first guy ever to lay eyes on those beauties!

She's blushing crimson, but laughs 'your turn to deal and the game's not finished until someone loses everything'.

I'm as hard as mahogany by now, but it's not being displayed as we're both sitting down.

I deal. We play. And I lose!

My heart's racing, my throat's dry and I'm wondering how to get out of the situation when I decide...sod it, I'm going to go for it. I stand up, pull off my briefs and spring free.

Jill laughs as I sit down again quickly.

'One more hand', she says, 'then I have to go'.

'I've nothing left to lose', I reply.

'Just one more hand'.

So we play and this time she loses. She stands up, pulls off her panties, twirls them on a finger and tosses them with the rest of her clothes, then spins around does a little curtsy for me, laughing all the while. A magnificent full bush on display, as well as the most perfect, perky buttocks, as well as her pert, russet tipped breasts. 'I didn't want you to feel disadvantaged', she giggles.

And as quickly as it began, we're then dressing in silence, and I'm beginning to go limp again.

Dressed, the conversation returned to notes about Shakespeare. We didn't touch, kiss or anything else and while I'm trying to hold a conversation on 'Macbeth' inside my head's is trying to process 'WTF just happened here????'.

Twenty minutes later she makes her excuses, leaves, and I'm still trying to process the previous hour.

A couple of weeks later she'd left for university and I never saw her again. By the time she returned home from her first year I was touring Europe before heading off to university myself. Just the memory of that magnificent hour burned into my brain. I've no idea if she engineered it, or if it was my 'reward' for being that knight in shining armour. I have to tell you though, stripped naked all ideas of her being 'plain' went out of the window. She looked like an absolute stunner!