The Best I Ever Had – A Confession

I’ve had my fair share of lovers. Young, fit, eager to please. But none of them compared to him. None of them even came close. His name doesn’t matter—what matters is what he taught me, what he made me feel. He was 60, I was 27, and he gave me the best sex of my life.

We met at a gallery opening. He was elegant, with silver hair and a smile that made me feel like the only woman in the room. He had this confidence, this quiet power that drew me in. When he asked me out for a drink, I said yes without hesitation. And when he invited me back to his penthouse, I didn’t think twice.

The moment we stepped inside, I knew this wasn’t going to be like anything I’d experienced before. He didn’t rush. He didn’t fumble. He took his time, his hands steady as he poured us each a glass of wine. We talked, we laughed, and then, when the tension between us became too much to ignore, he kissed me.

Dios mío, that kiss. It was slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every second. His hands were firm but gentle, exploring my body with a confidence that left me breathless. And when he finally led me to the bedroom, I was putty in his hands.

He undressed me slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “You’re stunning,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. “Every inch of you.”

I shivered as his hands roamed my body, his touch electric. He knew exactly what he was doing, exactly how to make me feel. And when his mouth found my most sensitive spot, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. His tongue was magic, his hands were magic, and by the time he entered me, I was already on the edge.

But he didn’t let me fall. Not yet. He moved slowly, deliberately, his eyes locked on mine as he took me to heights I didn’t know existed. Every thrust, every touch, was calculated to drive me wild. And when I finally came, it was like nothing I’d ever felt before—a wave of pleasure so intense it left me shaking.

He didn’t stop there. He kept going, his rhythm never faltering, until I was coming again and again, my body trembling with ecstasy. And when he finally let go, his body shuddering against mine, I knew I’d never forget this night.

Afterward, we lay there, tangled together in the sheets, the city lights streaming through the windows. “You’re incredible,” I whispered, my head resting on his chest.

He smiled, his hand stroking my hair. “So are you, Cristina. So are you.”

I’ve had other lovers since then, but none of them have ever measured up. He was the best I ever had, and I’ll always be grateful for the night he showed me what real passion feels like.