When I was about nineteen years old, a boy I was madly in love with grabbed me by the wrist to flip me over in bed. I still think about that moment. It was swift and confident and perfect. Crushed up facing each other on my single student bed, we were breathing so close to each other’s mouths, with such burning lust, that we could easily have just passed pure carbon dioxide back and forth until both of us passed out. Maybe that’s why we were so high on the horn of it. At some point before I fully fainted with desire, he took action. And the way in which he acted was so fucking hot it made my cunt swell with a tortured throb. He reached down between us to where my arms were held across my chest, grabbed the wrist of the arm I was lying on, encircling it firmly in his grip, and pulled it down my body and over my waist. Using it to flip me over so that now – instead of us facing each other and there being a cold gap between us at crotch height – I was facing away, my arse pressed up tight against his aching, diamond-hard cock.

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