Free Curve Ball by Charlotte Stein

Apparently, I really like men who get so into sex they can’t stop looking at everything and touching everything, like it’s the first time they’ve done this.
    Even though it can’t possibly be the first time he’s done this. I’ve actually seen him doing it with other people – but I’ll admit, it didn’t really look as intense as this does. For a start, he’s not eating a sandwich while it happens. And then there are also his words, his glorious, magical words.
    ‘Jesus, you’re sexy,’ he says.
    And then he adds, ‘You make me fucking crazy.’
    Which I might frame after this is over. I don’t have time right now, though, because apparently he’s tired of blowjobs, and wants to fling me around like a football. Or, more accurately, he pulls me up for a kiss that makes me think of a thousand things, like how sweet he might taste in his own mouth, and how satisfying it is to be so wanted that someone actually does impatient things that say they want you.
    And then he pushes me back on the bed, and drags me tight to him with one big hand.
    I wonder if I can frame that too. I particularly enjoy the way his palm slaps into the meat of my thigh – like he fucking loves the sound it makes, the feel of it, the way I gasp in a far too excited sort of way. And I love the way he yanks me.
    So much so that I blurt out, rather embarrassingly, ‘Yes please.’
    And of course he takes full advantage.
    ‘Please? What are you saying please for, huh?’ he asks, which is pretty much standard Steven practice. Once, I accidentally said hello when I meant goodbye, and he made fun of me for hours. He’s definitely going to make fun of me for this.
    Thankfully, however, it comes in a much more exciting form.
    ‘Please, Steven, could you run your hands all over my body?’ he guesses, but he doesn’t wait for me to confirm or deny. He just tries it out, in one long, slow slide all the way from my collarbone, down to the underwear I’m still somehow wearing.
    My favourite bit is the slalom around my breasts, which lingers long enough to cup both of them in a rough, can’t-help-himself sort of manner.
    ‘Or maybe it’s please, Steven, fondle my pussy . How about that?’
    ‘That’s … I like that.’
    ‘Uh-huh. Take those little shorts off for me, then.’
    Oh God. Oh God. He’s too good at this game. This is supposed to be what I’m saying please for, but I’m pretty sure it’s exactly what he wants. And then I jolt beneath the weight of this theory – this revelation  – because in truth I’ve never been sure of anything he wanted, before. Not when it comes to me, anyway.
    But for once, I really know.
    He wants to touch me there. He wants to see me. He can’t even wait for me to do as he’s asked – he just rips the shorts right off, when they’re at the halfway mark. And then once I’m completely naked – once I’m spread open for him – he sits back on his heels and takes everything in, in a way that should make me feel acutely self-conscious.
    It doesn’t.
    I’ve no idea why.
    ‘Ohhhh yeah. Look at that beautiful cunt.’
    OK, maybe I have some small idea why.
    ‘You usually get this wet when you fuck someone?’ He pauses, closes his eyes. ‘Don’t answer, don’t answer. Lemme just think it’s all for me.’
    It is all for him, but sadly I can’t say, now. Mainly because he’s told me not to answer, but also because he’s currently sliding one thick thumb through my slippery folds, stroking and exploring and just generally making me utterly mute.
    When he sinks one finger into me, I move my lips around a sound that won’t come.
    But that’s about it, in terms of vocalisation.
    ‘Ah, man. That’s so, so good. You like it, huh? You like me fucking into you, like this?’
    I nod in reply, though I can see it’s not going to be enough for him.
    And I’m right too – if in a really scary way.
    ‘Tell me you like it. Tell me you want me.’
    For a second, I feel like the room