MY BEST SEX EVER WAS…

with my ex’s best friend

“I knew my ex had told him what I liked”

I’d always been attracted to my boyfriend’s best friend. We had undeniable chemistry – he was confident, ambitious and made me laugh till my sides hurt. He was also strong and tall, with sandy hair and sky-high cheekbones.

I often fantasised about having sex with him, but tried to make sure we were never alone together. I was sure I could control myself... but thought it wise not to test it. But my boyfriend could sense something, and even pulled me up on it a few times. Each time I said nothing was going on, and it was true – though it was obvious we would both have liked it to.

Then, one evening, I arrived home to find that my boyfriend had left me, suddenly, after three years. My heart was in pieces. I found I could no longer be around the places we’d been together, so I applied for a new job, in a new city, moved into a tiny flat in south London, and started again.

His best friend began to message me, at first just asking if I was OK, but then becoming flirty… until eventually we were sexting every night, with me masturbating to his words. When he asked to stay one weekend, I jumped at the chance to live out my fantasies.

I met him at the train station and we walked along the South Bank with his arm wrapped around me, then kissed long and hard on Waterloo Bridge. On the bus home, he never took his hand off my thigh, letting it creep higher. My body throbbed for him, and I could feel his jeans straining with how hard he was.

He took control instantly. I’d barely shut my flat door before he slammed me against it, pinning my arms down and thrusting himself against me.

We stumbled to the bedroom and he threw me onto the bed. “Strip,” he commanded, doing the same, showing how hard he still was. I slid off my blouse and jeans, but he couldn’t wait. He leapt on top of me, pulling the thin strap of my thong aside, and entered me, hard. There’s no time for foreplay when you’ve wanted someone for three years.

He didn’t stay on top for long. He flipped me onto all fours and grabbed my waist, pulling my body into him and entering me deep. The room was so small I could lean one hand against the wall while reaching down to touch myself with the other. It was hard and fast, and we both came quickly.

As we lay next to each other, panting and bathed in sweat, he leant over to kiss my nipples, then my stomach, and started going down on me. The way he alternated his tongue’s rhythm between fast and slow, sliding two fingers in and out, I knew my ex had told him what I liked. But as my legs started to shudder and I threw my head back to cry out in orgasm, I was glad he had.

We had sex into the night – against the wall, reverse cowgirl, with my ankles on his shoulders. Sometimes it was animalistic, sometimes close and intimate. I didn’t think about my ex-boyfriend once as I came over and over again.

I still ached for more as we kissed goodbye the next day, but I also felt powerful. There wasn’t a shred of guilt as I thought about how my ex would feel. We both knew it was more than revenge sex, but also that it could never go any further. We had to call it off. After he stayed over in my tiny bedroom a few more times, of course.