Pinned down and pounded by my best friend's Ex...

The real meaning behind an ex-istential crisis.

Is it just me, or is *discussing* sex practically the very next best thing to actually having sex? As a conversational topic it’s not only endlessly fascinating and insightful, but often tantalisingly visceral. I’m sure I can’t be alone in feeling that sharing, deconstructing and reliving a sexual experience in conversation almost always becomes actively arousing?

Or perhaps I’m just a pervert.

As such, topics of sexual nature are commonplace between myself and friends. Rarely does any get together - drunken or perfectly civilised - go by without the topic turning to everyone’s recent sexploits; be it providing a running critique of a partner, sharing an anecdotal account of a spectacular failure (usually my contributions) or simply living vicariously through the second hand adventures of others.

Nothing goes unsaid. Everything is analysed and deconstructed. And a tremendously wonderful time is had by all as our respective sex lives are laid bare for analysis, comment and often gentle ribbing. Although in some cases ‘laid bare for a gentle ribbing’ very much *is* the discussion of the sex.

It’s wonderful, it’s liberating and it’s frequently hilarious. It’s also a far better way to approach the topic of sexual discussion than treating it as some bizarre taboo. Though, given where I’m posting this, I know I’m very much preaching to the choir in that regard.

There is however a downside. Being so open and detailed about sex means you get to know every detail about friend’s partners. Enormous fun when you’re hearing tales of mediocrity and failure, but something of a slippery slope (both figuratively and often literally) when you learn they are in possession of near miraculous skills…

Suffice to say many an evening has been spent indulging in wonderfully vigorous self gratification in the aftermath of one of these discussions, fondly imagining myself committing the carnal acts with the partners of my dearest friends. It’s fantasy. It’s allowed. Hell, after some especially graphic descriptions I’d argue it’s almost *expected*.

Russell was the most frequent interloper into my private thoughts. The long term partner of one of my very closest friends; Lisa, it always took me somewhat by surprise just how often he’d crop up in my masturbatory habits by virtue of the fact that he was never especially ‘my type’. Not that he was unattractive by any means, but if my preference is broadly speaking for a rugby build, let’s just say he was more of a snooker player.

Instead, the reason he so often came to mind during moments of self gratification was due to Lisa constantly reiterating his apparent sexual skill. She could count on just one hand the number of times he’d failed to deliver (the same hand which went on to solve the inevitable disappointment, I assume), and told of Russell as nothing short of a sexual messiah.

Had it been any of my other friends, I’d have assumed she was exaggerating to compensate for the fact she’d been with the guy for years and had no better tales to tell. But Lisa isn’t prone to hyperbole. While I pride myself on my sometimes brutal honesty, she wields the truth like a deadly weapon. If she said Russell was impeccable at sex, then Russell was a sexual Adonis. End of.

He was also, being the long term boyfriend of a best friend, completely and totally off limits. Naturally. No questions asked. I’d fondly imagine him, but that would be as far as it ever went.

And then they broke up.

Now, obviously there are rules for post breakup exes. And, often, the rules differ on an individual basis. Charlie considers anyone post breakup to be free rein for all. If anything she’ll actively *encourage* friends to ‘try out’ her exes so the inevitable discussions and comparisons can be all the more accurate and scathing. If you’ve not tried this for yourself I’d heartily recommend it.

Lisa however is not so liberal, and has always made something of a counter argument to Charlie’s approach, going as far to say on some occasions that she’d consider such actions to be tantamount to betrayal.

Which is why I felt, at best, somewhat conflicted when I encountered him several weeks after their breakup, entirely unable to rid myself of the notion that it was an opportune moment to ‘try him out’ for myself…

As is so often the case; it started in a bar. Russell was out drinking with friends, while I was out with work colleagues for a ‘how the fuck did we survive that day?’ drowning of sorrows. I’d been indulging for a while when he arrived and thusly was already somewhat inebriated. As such, when he turned up - crucially having not seen him at all since the breakup - I proclaimed his name loudly upon sight and approached him at speed. While it would be overstating it to describe us as *friends* - he’d always been the tag along boyfriend rather than an active member of the friendship circle - he’d been a part of our lives for a long time, and I was genuinely pleased to see him and to discuss the breakup from a perspective other than Lisa’s.

Soon enough, I’d ditched my colleagues altogether and was chatting with Russell and his friends. I fear I may have been somewhat dominating the conversation as his friends didn’t hang around for long, and soon departed to leave us to it.

I’ll not bore you with details of the breakup discussion. Suffice to say I’d always encourage you to hear both sides of the story. It’s exponentially more interesting that way.

Eventually the conversation turned to broader topics of the group, future plans, singledom and all and sundry. It was around this point I casually commented that Lisa had always told us he was exceptional at sex.

“Pleased I get such a good review!” he grinned, looking genuinely pleased with himself. Then there was a pause. Not awkward, but clearly the pause of someone weighing the pros and cons of an upcoming decision.

“Lisa always made it sound like you knew how to have fun too…” he continued.

From that moment alone I think we both knew this was only going to end one way.

Less than an hour later we were back at his place fucking each other senseless.

Ultimately it had been my suggestion. We’d chatted for another half hour with things getting increasingly suggestive and positively heated before I finally penetrated the subtext with a somewhat blatant;

“Shall we see how accurate Lisa’s descriptions are then?”

He raised an eyebrow. Apparently I hadn’t been quite blatant enough.

“Let’s fuck.”

And we did.

Lisa hadn’t been exaggerating. He was very *very* good.

Russell was one of those rare individuals in possession of all three of the most desirable sexual ’S’s: Sense, Skill and Stamina.

He spent in excess of thirty minutes fingering me before I even got sight of his cock. And if this sounds tedious then let me assure you it was not. His skill had me writhing and spasming on his bed all while utilising just hand. Which was lucky as the other was practically having to pin me down to restrain me from repaying him the favour. He was certainly a more patient soul than I. He kept himself entertained for the duration with sporadic sucking on my nipples, twice nearly getting sufficiently distracted to allow me an escape. However the slightest attempt to sit up on my part resulted in his fingers being thrust in all the deeper, and his weight being applied to my chest to secure me once again.

Once released from his skilled fingers, head considerably buzzing from his talents, I set to work showing he wasn’t the only skilled individual participating in the illicit fuck-fest. I knew from many a discussion - and indeed, from having witnesses for myself on several occasions - that blowjobs were not a highly scored portion of Lisa’s sexual repertoire.

Russell wasn’t made to endure thirty minutes at the mercy of my mouth and tongue. In fact, he barely managed ten. With a swift combination of light ball squeezing, cheek popping and some rapid but delicate tongue work, he exploded in my mouth with a volume of cum that quite caught me by surprise. I still call him ‘Two Gulps Russell’ to this day.

Now though I was slightly concerned. A heavy cummer popping early can often mean a good night ruined. Russell must’ve spotted the look of disappointment in my eyes as he assured me;

“Don’t worry. It won’t even take a minute.”

And he hopped back on to the bed and lay back, his cock still fully erect and now pointing skyward.

“Wanna go for a ride?”

I chastised him for being so cliche, but mounted him anyway.

“Just be gentle at first. He’s still recovering…”

Full disclosure - if he *hadn’t* said this, then what would have happened next would likely have been very different. But this was a man who’d just uttered a horrendous cliche, personified his penis and, perhaps most notably, had recently pinned me down for half an hour.

“Obviously.” I replied, slowly and delicately grinding my hips against him, enjoying the first sensations of him being inside me.

Then; payback.

I went wild.

I began to bounce on his cock with the ferocious intensity of a jackhammer. He let out an audible and hilarious “HOLY FUCK” as he was caught spectacularly off guard. Almost immediately I felt his still presumably highly sensitive cock begin to twitch and protest inside me as he made a weak and half arsed attempt to sit up and stop me. It was now my turn to pin him down as I continued my energetic assault on his cock.

It took less than a minute before he swore loudly again, and I felt him cum inside me. Not my ideal outcome (which, ironically, would have cum-out), but I brought it on myself, and I was thoroughly satisfied with the result all the same.

Russell meanwhile looked simultaneously delighted and furious.

“You okay down there?” I asked him.

“I’ve spent *years* imagining what it’s like to cum on those tits. I’m not missing out.” he replied, before practically shoving me off him. As I rolled over on my stomach on the bed he jumped up and got behind me, pulling my arms back so as to once again have me pinned in place.

He slapped my arse a few times in a vague attempt at protest. And then he began to finger my arsehole.

In all honesty, this does very little for me. But he seemed to thoroughly enjoy it, so I had no objection. Plus I could guess the real reason. He was simply occupying himself for a few minutes to allow him to properly ‘recharge’ this time.

I wasn’t wrong. Without warning the fingers stopped, as I felt him slam his cock inside me once again. This time it was my turn to swear out loud. Partially as, for a horrifying moment in the milliseconds before it happened, I thought he may be about to plow his cock into my arsehole, though thankfully he had more sense. Mostly because I was still somewhat tingly from the brief riding earlier.

And it felt incredible.

As he thrust repeatedly into me from behind he released my arms and instead grabbed what felt like a fistful of my hair, snapping my neck back and causing me to arch my back.

Sense, skill and stamina. He was very *very* good.

During the pounding he commented he sometimes used to picture me while he was fucking Lisa like this. I wanted to tell him this perhaps didn’t make him sound as endearing as he’d think, but, in all honesty, I was having too much fun and breathing far to hard to say much of anything at all. I didn’t even comment when I could feel the previous ejaculate’s cum dribble down my leg

I came. Hard. He took as much delight in it as I usually do.

When it was his turn to cum he pulled out, but rather than let me drop to my knees he instead pushed me back onto the bed and squatted over my chest.

I squeezed my tits around his cock and he barely managed one further thrust before he jizzed for the third time. Most of it hit my chin.

I didn’t tell Lisa about my encounter with Russell during out next debrief. Not did I till her the next half-dozen or so times it happened.

Almost a year later, when she was happy with a new guy I came clean. She was initially understandably grumpy. My blaming her for extolling his virtues quite so strongly was the wrong argument and line of defence to take. But eventually she understood.

The old saying is true.

Ex marks the spot.