When I was 18, I was a naive, nerdy virgin; shy, fairly short, overweight, terrible glasses and haircut, and of course, a small dick (4" at max hardness, and er, being a little generous with the ruler). I knew I wasn't well endowed, but I didn't yet know this could preclude someone from traditional "male" happiness as defined by society.

So when I left home and by pure chance, found myself sharing a two-bedroom flat with a hot girl – tall, blonde, stylish, slim but busty, with a heartbreakingly beautiful face and the kindest, softest voice you could imagine – I was in love by the end of the first day, and after a month was convinced it was "meant to be".

She had just a hint of dirty about her all the time, and would tease me constantly – as I unpacked my DVD collection, she said "have you got any porn in there?" then giggled. I was dumbstruck, open-mouthed, every time, not knowing what to say, and I think she began to seek these moments out and encourage them.

She began walking into my room from time to time and asking what I thought of her outfit; always amazing. The first time was a tight green jumper, tight short jeans and green high heels – that outfit is burned into my memory for ever. This kept happening: each time I would just stammer something positive, and she would laugh and stroll out.

After a few months of falling deeper and deeper for Becky, I blurted out my feelings over the counter in our lounge/kitchen. Her first response was to laugh – then she caught herself and rearranged her face into something closer to pity. "Oh!" she said, putting her arm round me reassuringly, looking into my eyes and speaking with her soft voice. "It just can't be that way between me and you, that's not how things are." Then she smiled. "But we'll always be friends, and I just know one day you'll find a nice girl to take your virginity!" Then she giggled dirtily, half-heartedly checked I was okay, then went out to meet "the girls".

That was 4pm. At 11pm that same day, I walked into the lounge/kitchen and there was a tall, ripped, well-tanned alpha male in his boxer shorts, getting a glass of water. "Oh hey bud," he said, smirking. "See ya!" He walked, of course, into Becky's room – to a chorus of giggles. I stared at the door, frozen, open-mouthed, until I started to hear their escalating moans of passion.

Something snapped in me at that moment. Instead of feeling sad or heartbroken, I felt a wave of lust rising in me like I'd never felt before in my life – I ran into my room, shut the door, slumped against the wall, and began to masturbate furiously. It was a thin but solid wall, and the acoustics were perfect; I could hear every noise as if I was right next to Becky's bed. She sounded very happy. Somehow, this set-up just felt RIGHT to me – everyone in the flat was in their proper place. They deserved sex, and I deserved to be denied and deprived.

* *

I lived with Becky for another two years after that. She had three boyfriends in that time, with some overlap – all ridiculously well-hung, entitled alphas who seemed to have nowhere else to be, and no concerns about me seeing them in states of undress. Every night I would press my ear against the wall, listening to every detail of what was happening, and absolutely BURN with lust, jerking frantically. In the daytime, we'd hang out, and the Alphas would say things like: "It's amazing, bro! She just lets me bend her over and slip it in any time I want. You can't imagine." (But I could.)

Over time, Becky and the alphas got so used to me that they would happily flirt and make out while I was in the living room; not noticing me stood at the counter slipping into a sort of beta trance, filling my glass of water for three straight minutes. Becky also began doing long workouts in that shared space, in skimpy gym gear; more than once I sat on the settee through an entire half hour workout, while she occasionally flashed me a dirty smile. Oh, and I occasionally heard her and her hot girlfriends sat around in the kitchen, whispering quietly about me ("the virgin") and then bursting into laughter. All of these things would trigger a long jerk off session.

Me and Becky never talked about this stuff, of course; I always wondered if she knew what she was doing, or how thoroughly she was conditioning me. I was doing a very undemanding degree during these years, so spent almost all my spare time thinking about Becky, her body and her sex life, pushing myself further and further to deepen my addiction and position my own sexuality in this context. My bedroom wall became discoloured; I eventually realised it was from me sweating on it, night after night, as I listened to Becky having amazing sex, while I stayed a virgin.

Eventually I discovered the sexual practice of "edging". I had come to crave the feeling of deprivation I felt on those nights, and eventually, somewhere in my confused mind, I decided that as I didn't deserve to fuck ("that's not how things are", I would hear Becky say, kindly) maybe I didn't deserve to cum either...

This idea multiplied my pleasure tenfold. I had always dragged things out, but now I listened to Becky fuck and get fucked, and tried as hard as I could NOT to orgasm. When I got close, I would whip my hand away. I began to crave and fetishize this feeling of denial more than anything; the contrast of hearing those Alpha boyfriends moan in absolute satisfaction, as they had powerful fulfilling orgasms after an hour of sex, while I edged and denied and held myself back... ugh. Just incredible.

* *

By the end of this period, a typical evening was as follows: we'd all be watching TV in the living room, me habitually fetching them snacks and drinks, her sat on his lap in the whole time in pyjama shorts, being flirty and saying things like "oh I see you ARE awake!" after grinding on his crotch. They'd say goodnight, I'd do the pots while they brushed their teeth etc, then take up my place pressed against the bedroom wall to hear an hour (sometimes two) of fantastic sex.

While they fucked I would whisper: "he deserves this, I don't deserve this ... beta for Becky, good boy for Becky" and a dozen other twisted mantras; whatever popped into my head. I became very skilled at timing my own edges to when the Alpha would finally have his own orgasm... I would hear his bellow of utter ecstasy and satisfaction, usually buried deep inside her, and whip my own hand away, saying "good boys don't cum, no cums for Aaron" etc. Every nerve in my body felt on fire with pleasure.

Then, after listening to their loving murmurs as they drifted off into a sweet, fulfilling slumber, I would stay up edging further and further to a slideshow of Becky, sometimes overlaid with spirals and accompanied by erotic hypno audio. Hours passed in seconds – it was my flow state. Once a week, I would give in and have a big, messy orgasm (just to remind myself what I was missing out on the other days), and fall straight to sleep – other nights I would slip into a restless half-sleep, filled with dreams of what I'd just heard.

Eventually, when the sun came up, I would hear Becky sneak out of the room to the toilet, then quietly head back. I would rush to the wall and hear gentle slurping noises and giggles, then his happy grunts, as she woke him up by sucking lovingly on his hard morning wood. I would masturbate to my first edge of the day (or week), and the cycle would begin again.

* *

I kept a tally chart in a notebook; I listened to Becky have sex 678 times between the ages of 18 and 20, conditioning my young elastic brain to such an extent that I would never get an erection for any other feeling ever again. But I wouldn't change a single thing, now; I think some men are honestly meant to be betas, for the good of the tribe, and I have certainly had a life full of deeply sexual experiences and pleasure.

I wrote up what happened when Becky finally moved out here: https://www.reddit.com/r/EdgingTalk/comments/1eejsme/after_becky_or_how_i_became_a_pussyfree_edger_for/ – but suffice to say, I'm still a virgin at 36 and think about this scenario every day, often edging for hours and hours to the memories, and seeking out kinky Redditors who'll RP about it. (I can't believe I only thought to search for the term "friendzone" today; I just want to inject these subreddits into my veins!!)

I follow Becky on Facebook and spent several messy days edging to her wedding photos, thinking about how fulfilled and happy they both must have been, and have loved witnessing their successful, amazing, fulfilling lives while I spend my lesser (but still valid) life aching in agony for her. I fully expect to be in this same state in my 80s, jerking to feelings of denial and deprivation until the last nerve cell in my poor abused loser dick gives up. And she'll never know.

I think that's the lot. Hit the DMs or comments, ask me anything. :)