Bad sex

He rang me out of the blue on a Tuesday afternoon. I was grateful to hear from him, it had been a while and I'd missed him terribly. I agreed to him picking me up and taking me back to his house. He arrived on time and in the car we held hands all the way there, kissing at traffic lights; all smiles and laughing. He had soft hands and skin like velvet, he loved the way my hair smelt and thought my necklace was pretty.

When we arrived at his house it was already getting dark. A cold, dank January day, frost and rotting leaves in the air. We went straight to his bedroom. I'd never been in before. As he went in search of a condom I took my shoes off and looked around. An ashtray by the bed, tiny alarm clock, his girlfriend's earrings, a book with a black cover and neon blue writing. He couldn't find a condom, he said. "Doesn't matter," I said, "I'm on the Pill." (lying).

He pulled me down on the bed, frenetic kissing and moans. We were naked in a minute at the end of the bed, on top of the blankets. He kissed deeply. He was rough, forceful; Jesus, I loved this man. So kind, charming and lovely; a well-liked man, "Such a nice man," they said. His hands were in my hair, kissing my neck hard, he rolled over and pulled me on top. I cried out when he pushed his cock into me, "Shhhh," he warned; I wasn't ready, it hurt and he gripped me tight, thrusted deep in me once, twice, three times and came silently. He let me go and put his hands behind his head, smiling. I steadied myself from the sudden movement and looked down on him. Still smiling, his eyes closed. I nuzzled into him, kissed him and lay on his chest whilst his hands remained behind his head. The air grew cold again, it was dark outside.

He drove me home. No talking or laughing but he did smile at me. I put my hand on his knee, palm up. He kept his hands on the steering wheel and oh God, I wished that I would just fucking die.