It’s the last night on holiday in France. After a chance meeting at a bar and a fun night around town, we finally make our way to his car. We slide into the backseat. “Hi, nice to meet you,” he says coyly and offers a hand. “Nice to meet you,” I reply, accepting it. He pulls me onto his lap. Then his lips crash into mine, tongue searching, desperate for embrace. Rolling his hips, he presses his hardness against me, and I...