Abi

He was in the kitchen when Abi came home. He hadn't expected her so soon: she was supposed to be out with the girls this afternoon. A little flustered, he looked around the house, hoping he hadn't left a mess anywhere. No, it was all tidy. He smiled and met her eyes.

"Hi, Abi!" He was half-way through mopping the kitchen floor now. For a moment he waited for her to lock the door and take off her jacket. She smiled back cheerfully.

"Hi, virgin."

"H..." his cheeks were red. She saw and turned her head a little as if to laugh. "Please don't call me that," he said quietly, and he held the mop a little tighter. She didn't respond. Maybe she hadn't heard him. She just kept smiling. He felt his cheeks get hotter, his legs lose a little strength, and he got back to his work.

"I got home early," Abi said, laying her jacket down over the sofa's back. Laura had work to do. Are you nearly done?"

She came a little closer and leaned though the doorway, making a point not to step on the wet floor. He smelled her perfume as she did, and just stopped thinking for a second. He loved her perfume. He didn't even know what brand it was: if he knew, he thought, he might like it less. To him it was the smell of Abi. It was perfect.

And she was beautiful. Her skin seemed too soft, to him, the colour of her eyes too smooth and rich, her lips too perfect. He almost wished she were a little less gorgeous, just so she didn't seem quite so unattainable. Eventually he realised he hadn't answered. "Y-yeah," he said. "Just need to finish the floor and let it dry."

"Thanks again, virgin. You really saved me a lot of work." before he could say anything, her impossible beauty turned away from him, her too-soft hair lazily slipping off the slick, painted doorframe behind her. Her fragrance gradually fading. She turned on the TV.

And just for a second, the reality of his situation hit him. What was he doing? Why did she have to call him that, when she knew how much it hurt him every time? This was not his house and she was not his girlfriend, so... why?

He spotted a piece of fluff on the floor, bent over to pick it up and swept over the spot with the mop. He needed to hurry up or Abi wouldn't be pleased with him. With new energy he moved on.

There was no point dwelling on 'why', really; he knew exactly why he allowed Abi to use him like this. He was completely in love with her and he just couldn't say no. Of course, he had always been the sort of guy who put women on pedestals, admired them from afar, obsessed over them when he found one who liked it... and he had always been the submissive type, espescially when it came to strong women. Maybe it was his vague, so-called Feminist beliefs, maybe it was his weak will, maybe he was just a coward and he felt comfortable being told what to do. Maybe it was right, like it felt, like he sometimes wondered. Or maybe he was just so horny, so desperate for a woman to finally take an interest in him, that he would do anything a pretty girl asked if he thought she might like him for it. Whatever it was, he was here. In Abi's flat instead of his own. Mopping.

Finally, he finished, and propped-up the mop and plastic bucket by the side of the room. Moving a little closer to Abi, he brushed his hands. "All done," he said happily. It had been a long day: she had asked him to come over at 8AM so that she could finish washing and cleaning her flat before she got back. He had made good time.

She turned her head and time almost slowed down, as much as it ever did for him. He looked into her eyes again and let his breathing quicken a touch, fantasizing. If only she would do more than just say thanks... if only she might hug him, hold his hand for a second, maybe even kiss him. The thought of it made his penis grow uncomfortably in his trousers, pressing awkwardly against his clothes in the wrong position, so he stopped himself thinking. But still he watched her and waited patiently, all-but begging for some sign that he had earned her affection.

She stood and lowered her chin for a second, and opened her soft lips. They opened further, until he couldn't deny it any longer: she was pouting -- she was preparing for a kiss! After all this time, all the time he had longed for her, it was finally going to happen!

Abi finished her kiss and blew it off her hand, winking. "Thanks," she said warmly and sat back down. He felt a long sigh por through his chest as he released his breath. An air kiss. She hadn't even come close to him.

He had dreamed about their first kiss so many times. That time he was ready to believe it.

"Come and sit with me," she said, as if deliberately interrupting his sad thoughts. Without thinking, he trotted over to her and sat. She was in the corner of the sofa but shuffled over to be closer to him. Part of him loved that, of course, and part of him wished she wouldn't. It was hard to be near her: it made him feel so lonely, just knowing he couldn't put his arm around her. And of course it made him desire her in another way, too: it always made him hot, frustrated, panting. Completely aroused. He felt the side of her head lay down on his shoulder.

"I need to scrub the shower, too," she almost-whispered. "Clean the floor and sides of it. But I'm so tired." She sounded tired, too. He felt sorry for her, even though he knew he was being used.

"I'll do it before I go," he said, breathing the perfume deeply now. In response, she made a show of yawning and nuzzled her head into his shoulder.

He couldn't stop it this time: immediately he felt an erection grow and press against his black nylon pants. He needed to adjust himself, to shuffle around and free it, even just to groan -- anything to relieve the pressure between his legs. Abi noticed.

For what seemed like a long time she just giggled, hand over mouth as though she couldn't stop. Eventually she lifted her head a little and asked, "Is someone a bit too happy to see me?"

He thought of laughing, thought of apologising, thought a lot about crossing his legs and freeing himself, but he was stunned. He made some involuntary frightened grunts, and Abi giggled more. As she did, she reached over, delicately lifted the seam of his trousers, giving him room to become fully erect. He groaned again.

"I'm sorry... I..."

"That's all right!" she said, still almost laughing. "I know you can't help it, virgin."

He swelled even more. He had wanted her all day, all year, and now she was teasing him again. Calling him that. It was painful.

"Please..." he said, too loud, "please don't call me that."

"Why not, virgin?"

He was throbbing with lust and embarassment. "I... it feels..."

"What?"

It had now been two weeks since she had found out his secret. He was still a virgin. Through school, through college, his whole life, he had never quite been able to conquer his fears and anxiety long enough to make it that far with a girl. Now he was far too old, and felt trapped with this forever. He hated that about himself.

Abi had figured it out. The two of them had been 'friends' for many months, and she had repeatedly asked why he never had a girlfriend, mostly just to tease him, he assumed. Finally she had learned enough to understand why he was so cagey, and she just asked. He told her yes: what could he say? And she had almost-laughed. The same almost-laugh she was using now. It was cruel and gleeful without pretence. She enjoyed his suffering. Part of him loved that, really, but...

"It... hurts my feelings!"

This time she laughed out loud. Ever since she had guessed his secret, Abi had deliberately not used his name. When she spoke to him now, she just called him 'virgin'. He visibly reacted every time, but she never showed what she was thinking. She seemed so casual and calm when she said it.

Slowly but deliberately, Abi moved from her corner of the sofa, turned sideways to face him. She lifted-up her perfect, smooth, just-the-right-shape legs and rested them on his thighs, weighing them down. She pressed into him with another yawn, one leg on each side of the painful, throbbing tent in his pants, and turned her head. The way you might to talk to a child.

"I'm sorry if it hurts your feelings, virgin. But it makes me happy."

Her thighs were so close to his cock. His mind was racing with frustration and longing.

"I thought you liked making me happy? You're such a nice boy, such a good friend to me."

He just nodded. He didn't even think.

"It's funny to me," she said, smiling again. "There's no need to get upset about it, virgin." And with that, she dropped her soft palm onto his forearm and held it.

He nodded again and calmed down. Joy and adoration flooded his simple mind. He had what he wanted, if only for a moment -- her affection. The throbbing in his groin was literally aching him now, but he didn't mind. She was touching his arm. He let himself dream of their first kiss again.

"Okay, virgin?"

"Y-es. Sorry, Abi."

"That's okay. You can clean the shower later on. I want to use it before you do -- I won't be long so you can just wait by the door with a towel, if that's okay."

"Okay."

"But before that," and she looked at his pants again, "someone needs to calm down. I don't want you getting all excited, especially after you go home, if you know what I mean. Sorry virgin, but I can't stand the idea of you playing with yourself and thinking about me."

"I... sorry..."

"Okay, so let's just wait here a little longer."

Abi leaned back on the sofa with an adorable, beautiful sigh, stretching her arms and middle. The more she stretched, the more the edge of her top inched over her warm, slim, perfect belly, and she left it that way once she was comfortable. Her heavy legs remained in place, surrounding his discomfort and weighing it down on either side, trapping it. The touch of her legs made him crazy.

For a few hours they stayed like this, her contendedly watching the TV and him in agony, staring at her body, trying to glimpse her skin, her eyes, her mouth. Finally she got up, nodded at his cleaning bucket and said, "Come on. Time for my shower."

She didn't touch him again that day. When he headed home, the pain and arousal were so much, and had been with him so long, that he could barely think. He just hoped he would be able to see her again soon.