Still living at home with my parents at 21 was not exactly ideal. Even less ideal was the fact that I was still a virgin.
I was working hard to save up money and move out by working shifts in a warehouse, lugging boxes around. It was laborious, boring work but it came with two advantages. Firstly, the physical effort was good excercise, keeping me fit and toned, meaning I didn't have to waste money going to a gym, and even if I wasn't proud of much in life, I was at least happy with my own body. And secondly, because the work was so monotonous, it gave me lots of time to think. Fantasising about sex, mostly. And, in particular, Ms. Demeter next door.
Ms Demeter was an enigma to me. About forty years old, she exuded class and presence in the way very few women can – especially those who've got a three year old child. She was one of the few women who could justify being referred to as 'statuesque'. And what a figure! She flaunted her ginger hair by growing it long and letting it cascade over her shoulders. Her full, pert bosom pressed against the outline of her tight fitting tops, inviting me to wonder about what it would be like to fondle one milky, rosy tipped breast in each hand...
Anyway, she commuted each day into London for some high-powered job. In finance or something I think – I've never asked, because I was quite intimidated by her. This powerful, sexy lady next door, living exactly how she wanted to despite having to juggle career and child, whilst still looking immaculate. She was neither married nor divorced, but shared the responsibility for raising the child with her lover, who did not live with her and I'd never seen. She moved to the safe dullness of suburbia to get her child into a good school, she told my mother. She would clearly have been happier living in one of London's more expensive, trendier districts, like Islington perhaps. And now she was pregnant again! About six months gone by now, and this seemed only to make her more alluring. As her belly gradually swelled up, it felt as if her sexiness would overflow. Glowing with energy, she flaunted her bump in her business suits, unashamed and empowered.
Since she'd lived next door to us, I hadn't yet plucked up the courage to actually speak to her, but my mother was friendly with her. I hoped mom never mentioned me to her – especially my lack of any girlfriends so far! Occasionally, if we crossed paths outside either of our houses, she'd give me a weird sort of smile – a kind of knowing smile – and I would quickly look away, self-conscious. I sometimes thought she did it to tease me. But surely she can't have known how much I lusted after her. Can she?
So, one day when mom asked if I would like to earn a little extra money by feeding Ms Demeter's cat and watering her house plants whilst she was on vacation, I jumped at the chance a bit too eagerly. Of course, a bit of extra money to supplement what I was earning stacking crates at the warehouse was good news. But I was also desperately curious to see the inside of Ms. Demeter's home.
I was at work on the day that Ms. Demeter swept off for the airport in her Jaguar, and when I arrived home my parents weren't in either. I found a note on the kitchen table, explaining what needed to be done in Ms. Demeter's house whilst she was away, along with a front door key. I picked it up reverently. No time like the present, I thought. I was still sweaty after my shift at work, but that hardly mattered – I wasn't going to be seeing anyone. Having a shower could wait until after I'd discovered what the inside of Ms. Demeter's house was like.
When I entered her home, it was as classy as I had imagined. Lots of modern artwork, designer furniture, and very little clutter – a home as intellectual and well groomed as Ms. Demeter herself. All the kid stuff, the toys and picture books, were confined to one upstairs room, giving the rest of the house a sophisticated, adult feel. I put food and water out for the cat in the kitchen, and then filled a jug and began to make my way around the house, watering her various exotic house plants.
I left the bedroom until last, and eventually entered the mysterious room with my heart pounding in my chest. The bedroom was luxuriously appointed, and immediately on entering it I was overwhelmed by a powerfully female, profoundly personal scent: her expensive perfume, yes, but combined with something else more intimate. This must be the smell of her, I thought, my cock beginning to harden.
You mustn't stay in here too long, I warned myself, this is her private space. But my arousal was speaking louder than the sensible side of my brain. How much more real would my fantasy seem if I indulged it in her actual bedroom, surrounded by her scent? Maybe I could just lie back on her bed and enjoy it. The curtains were closed, no-one would know. As I lay back, my eyes closed and I slipped my now rock hard cock out of my jeans, groaning. I imagined slowly undressing Ms. Demeter, unclipping her lingerie bra and slipping out one milky white breast after the other...
I didn't even hear the front door open.
"What on earth do you think you are doing, young man?!"
It was Ms. Demeter! Standing in the doorway to the bedroom, hands on hips, looking at me in disgust, her pregnant belly thrust out before her.
"Er... er..." I stuttterd as I struggled to put my penis away. "I thought you were on vacation!"
"My vacation was cancelled. And I come home to find... this! And in my own bedroom! You wait until I tell your mother about this."
"Oh god please don't do that" I pleaded, imagining the embarrassment. "It's just... just..."
There really was no right answer to this sentence. She had walked in to find me with my dick out, lying on her bed! There really wasn't any better explanation.
"It's just that you find me deeply erotic, isn't that right?" she asked, finishing my sentence for me and raising an eyebrow. She was looking at me as if I was a piece of dirt that had somehow found its way into her immaculate house.
"Well, yes" I replied. "I've fantasised about you ever since you moved in, Mrs. Demeter."
"And you don't even have basic manners! Mrs, indeed. My marital status is of no concern to you, or anyone else. You may address me as Ms. Demeter, and nothing else. And yes, I know about your... fantasies. I've seen the way you look at me in the street, holding your gaze a bit too long. I've quite enjoyed the attention, actually. And your mother has told me about your... situation."
"What situation is that, Ms. Demeter?" In the back of my mind I could imagine cosy little chats over coffee when I wasn't home. Yes, it's so embarrassing, my son hasn't even had a proper girlfriend yet, and at his age too...
"Your virginity, of course. To be honest, I thought something like this would happen when I asked your mom to ask you to look after my house whilst I was away. A boy your age, all that pent up desire. And then an attractive older redhead moves in next door... I mean, what else could I have expected, hmm?"
"Yes Ms. Demeter"
Whilst talking, she had begun to massage her swollen belly through her dress with both palms, her slender hands circling laconically. Must be something pregnant women do for comfort, but it was getting me aroused even further.
"So what are we going to do with you, hmm?" she said. "It is an absolute travesty that you are still a virgin at your age, and you should be ashamed of it, don't you think? But, since you're in my bedroom, I suppose I really call the shots now, don't I? I have a use for you. I've had a very disappointing and frustrating day, and could use some stress relief. Get off the bed."
