Blue Balling The Virgin

Alison is twenty-five, a ruthless London lawyer with a flat in Canary Wharf, a wardrobe that could fund a small war, and absolutely zero interest in being kind to men.Then her friend Tanya mentions Will.Little Will Hudson. The shy kid Alison used to babysit. The boy who followed her around like a duckling, blushed whenever she spoke to him, and knocked his juice over every time she leaned across the table.He's eighteen now. Home from Durham for the weekend. Six foot two. Cheekbones, jaw, shoulders. Still shy. Still sweet. Still can't make eye contact with a woman. Still, according to his mum, runs from waitresses who flirt with him.Still a virgin.Alison doesn't even finish her wine before she's planning the outfit.What starts as a jog past his parents' house becomes a coffee at the café with the wisteria, and coffee becomes could you help me with a bookcase at my flat, sweetie, you're a lifesaver, and suddenly poor little Will is on her cream linen sofa with a glass of rosé he didn't ask for, her bare foot against his thigh, her fingers in his hair, and a problem in his chinos that he cannot hide from her.And Alison has all afternoon.She's going to touch him. She's going to tease him. She's going to get him right to the edge, over and over, and then she's going to take her hand away and ask him about his thermodynamics course while he shakes. She's going to put him on his knees. She's going to make him beg. She's going to watch the first girl who ever wrapped her hand around his cock also become the first girl who ever refused to let him cum.Because Alison isn't going to sleep with him. Alison isn't going to let him finish. Alison is going to send him home to his mother with a bulge in his trousers, balls so swollen he can barely walk, and a head so full of her that he won't be able to form a coherent thought for the next two weeks..