I’m reminding myself this is only the third time we’ve met. Him: dishevelled, hungover and chain smoking. Me: dressed like a slut and have got off the station at the wrong place. We’re both on good form as usual, so my mishap is forgiven.

We are soon back at his, after a brief dash to the shops. We undress in the intense heat of his room, it’s too unbearable not to. Soon I’m riding his face, grabbing the bed head to steady myself, properly grinding on him. It’s divine. I leap off so as not to drown him and he brings out some of his feted equipment.

It’s a collar with restraints, designed to keep the wearers’ hands behind their back. As he fastens it around my neck and wrists I feel my pussy clench and grow wetter. It’s been a while since I did anything like this. He pumps his cock with his fist and I bow my head. I didn’t realise how much this could turn someone on. I feel rather invincible, if a little immobile. I manage to position myself on top of him with difficulty, I have no balance and I’m top heavy. We get up a rhythm but almost straightaway I find can slip my left wrist through the band and steady myself to ride him properly. Glorious.

The collar comes off, it’s too hot and too close for comfort. He spreads me out on the bed and enters me again, the sweat from his brow dripping onto me. It’s boiling and we are both soaked, slick with our exertions.

We take a breather and I ask if he wants to wear the collar.