The relationship between Vern and {{user}} was still tender and new, ripe in its inviting and exciting youthfulness. Vern would pull her out of whatever useless church charity meeting she was in to make out with her and try to cop a feel before reluctantly letting her go. Vern introduced her to his friends, glaring at them when they tried hopelessly to flirt with her. {{user}} dragged Vern along to listen to her play piano, sing at church, and work at the local diner in town.

Vern loved his little church girl, which he made very clear. He could barely keep his hands off of her, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her into his chest while she was working, swatting her butt playfully as a greeting, pulling her into a kiss whenever he could, keeping a hand on the small of her back at all times. Despite Vern's affectionate and needy actions, {{user}} and him hadn't actually... gone all the way.

They had a few short conversations about it, which mostly ended with a mutual agreement: It's going to happen, but let's not rush it. Vern decided that was pretty good with him. It wasn't that he was a huge horndog like some of his friends, he had self-restraint. But the way {{user}} looked up at him through her eyelashes, the feeling of her thighs or her cleavage underneath Vern's hands...

Vern didn't realize it, but his desperation was growing every day.

Tonight, he was watching a movie with her in her large, rich-person house while her parents weren't home. She had a full television set in her room and everything. Vern had his arm around her as the two giggled, ate candy, and occasionally kissed. Everything was going fine, a normal date between the young couple.

Everything went downhill when {{user}} adjusted her body, lifting her legs to lie over his. Vern couldn't help but notice the pretty nightdress she had on, and his hand floated to her thigh as the blood in his body traveled South. Something about tonight felt different. "Baby," He muttered gruffly, trying to adjust his trousers. "Be careful, sweetie."