What is the best sex you’ve ever had?
Every time somebody asks me that question, I am tempted to respond with “Yellow.” Or, “Hat.” Because to me, those answers make about as much sense as the question does.
But I try my best to avoid sarcasm, and I can’t fault people for being curious, so typically I respond with, “Define your terms.”
You want to know about the best sex I’ve experienced? Define your terms.
First, you need to define ‘sex’. Odds are, I think about sex differently than you do. So you need to tell me, since you are the one asking, what you mean by ‘sex’. PIV? PIA? Oral? Self-stimulation? Toys? Mutual masturbation? Phone sex? Cam sex? What? Define your terms.
Then: What do you mean by ‘best’?
‘Best’ could mean any number of things. Do you want to know about the riskiest? The longest session? Greatest number of orgasms in the shortest period of time? The most emotionally connected? The most fun? The most unusual location? Least effort on my part? Most memorable cock? Or perhaps the biggest? Most athletic interlude? Most romantic? What? Tell me what you mean.
I’m by no means the most experienced woman on the planet, but I have lived long enough and explored my own body well enough and had enough sexual partners to have learned quite a bit about what I like. However, sometimes ‘the best sex’ is not about what I know I like. It’s about learning – sometimes learning what doesn’t work – and moving forward on a positive note. It’s about exploring new things – alone, with a partner(s), for my own pleasure or someone else’s – and finding joy in the process. It’s about owning my quirks, communicating my needs; it’s pushing boundaries and resisting stagnation, opening up to new ideas, taking someone inside of me and allowing them to do the same, emerging from S/He and Me to a version of our collective sexual selves that becomes an Us.
Is ‘the best sex’ about the pleasure? If so… Whose?
Perhaps, if it is about giving pleasure, I would say it was the time he presented himself to me, kneeling and warm and naked and willing, and I spanked him to (a completely unexpected – for both of us) orgasm in a matter of minutes. He thoroughly wrecked my new comforter and was both shocked and abashed at his response. But I was delighted. (And I never even took my clothes off.)
Is it about receiving pleasure? Perhaps, then, it was the time when – after already giving me more than one orgasm – he curled his fingers into my pussy, scissoring sure and strong against the counter-rhythm of my own fingers swirling over my clit, not stopping until – shaking and tearful – I rocked my hips against our mutual onslaught and came. Hard. Clutching at his body lined up against mine, turning my head into his shoulder as I shuddered while he shushed me softly through the aftershocks.
Sharing pleasure… Well, for me, that’s requisite to every sexual interaction. It pleases me greatly to give and to receive, and there is an element of receiving in the giving, even if it is indirect. I think I first learned about the concept of shared pleasure – though I didn’t have a name for it then – as a preteen. Exploring with my girlfriends and cousins – cautiously, trepidatiously (What if my brother walks in?!?) – how it all feels. Knowing, from trailing my fingers along their wet cotton panties, that the damp heat between my legs, caused by their kisses and adolescent exploratory caresses, was mutually experienced.
But are any of those things even ‘sex’? Let alone ‘the best’?
I have typically loosely defined ‘having sex’ as traditional penetrative intercourse. Everything else… Well, it’s definitely sexual activity. But is it, for the purposes of the question, ‘sex’?
That depends on who’s asking, I suppose.
Sex, no matter what form it takes, is often the most memorable when it’s not necessarily ‘sex’ – in the traditional form – at all.
Sure, sometimes it is a screaming orgasm, the memory of which still fans the flames of my imagination and fuels the fire I stoke with self-pleasure. Other times it is the wait, long and bittersweet, drawn out by distance and denial, that culminates in rasping-breath request granted by dizzying demand.
What about the time, in a room full of people, my husband made me cum – again – to the gasps and moans of an enthralled audience? Perhaps it was the time my lover, seated between my legs while I lay back in the buoying water of the bath, used his hands to work my body to a long, relaxed, rolling release – one that triggered his own, without my ever having touched him – that left us both smiling in half-conscious bliss. Or maybe it was when, in the middle of a phone call, aroused from the sound of his voice, I gave myself an orgasm to the soundtrack of my paramour’s coaxing words and my own unfettered moans, and when my breath returned to my lungs and I could focus once again on the conversation, he said, “God, I love to hear you cum.”
The Best Sex is not formulaic. It is not a recipe, it does not require any one specific ingredient.
It is all the sex I’ve had, and all the sex I haven’t. It is the choices I’ve made in the past, and the ones I will make in the future. It is the sex for which I am fully present, in the Now, that I will remember later and smile. Or cringe. Or puzzle over. Or fantasize about.
It is the shared looks, the whispers, the silence. The talks, before and after, about what we want, and where we go from here. It is shattered breaths and wracking sobs and full-belly laughter. It is joy and pain and firsts and lasts and all the in-betweens.
It is about what I know now, compared to what I knew then. It is what I will learn in the future, and how those building blocks will stack against the present. It is not one time, or one person, or one event. It is less than the sum and more than the total of all my experience.
That is the best sex.
And I hope to have a lot more of it.
Yes, yes, yes! That is me having a little blogpostgasm because you have totally nailed my thoughts exactly on this subject. I always find that question to feel a bit like being back in school when you would sit around with your friends talking about ‘what’s your favourite food/movie/popstar/famouscrush? etc. My daughter is 13 and seems to have reached the peek age for this. Is it just a girl thing at that age too, I don’t ever remember my son doing it?
Anyway, it is such a silly question really, over simplistic and also implies that you have had your best, which if that were true would be a sad thought that there was nothing more for one to experience.
Mollyxxxx
Ha! Blogpostgasm. Love it! 😀
I *still* can’t answer the “favorite food” question. It’s as bad – perhaps even wose than – the “best sex” question. Main course or dessert? Sweet, spicy, or salty? My go-to snack or favorite meal to cook? Homemade or take-out? Gah! It is an impossible question to answer! ????
ok, so what was the best sex you ever had? haha haha ha (just being smart-assy Mrs F, all in fun)
seriously, a thoughtful and comprehensive look at what the question represents
Thanks.
In all fairness, I think people ask this question because they are curious – about my likes and dislikes, experiences, desires, etc – but it’s just… Bad.
“Best sex” is bad. Lol.
And even if the asker can define it further, I always feel like I have to qualify everything. Because, just because I allowed Person X to Y and Z, or did Q and R with Person S, does NOT mean it’s a blanket, I’ll-do-that-with-anyone/everyone kind of thing. o_O
I don’t like having to rank my experiences as if I was in the Olympics. I’ve had very little bad sex and quite a bit of fun sex. I like having it suggested out of the blue, when it is inconvenient, and there is some risk (noise or being found out).
EXACTLY. I am never thinking to myself, “Well, that would have been a 7.0, but I’m gonna have to dock 1.2 points for faltering on the dismount.” I dislike the idea of ranking, and I equally dislike the related concept of being Good In Bed. It’s not about any one person’s stellar skill set; it’s about finding what works between partners, and intentionally improving the shared experience.
I, too, enjoy having it suggested when it’s not where my mind was at. It’s a turn-on, knowing someone wants me that way, and are willing to say so.
And risk-of-discovery sex: YES. This is a huge hot button for me. Especially outdoors. 🙂
Whenever I have been asked that question, I always respond with “I haven’t had it yet” and that seems to end those kinds of inquiries. DWD
I suppose it depends on who’s asking, and what their intent is. I have used a similar response on a no-manners man, for example, but I wouldn’t say that to my little sister.
🙂 🙂 It’s always good — but the best sex is always the next one. 🙂 🙂
And the one after that. 😉
…. and the one af…. oh yeah !!!!
And, in its own way, this post was, itself, some of the “best sex” I’ve ever had. Each experience is unique in its own right; each look, each word, each kiss, each touch, each lick, each thrust. The sexual experience is greater than the sum of its parts and yet, each of those parts on their own can be fantastic.
It’s trying to quantify the unquantifiable, a bit like asking “which water is the wettest?” (physicists/chemists, please stay out of this).
Sex can be good, sex can be bad, one particular experience may be better/worse than an other, but the “best”? Even if it were possible to quantify, I (hopefully) haven’t had all the sex I’m ever going to have yet, so how could I possibly judge such a thing?
KW
That’s exactly it – the judging (rating) thing just doesn’t work for me. Not least because I am constantly learning and growing and changing, so That Night In ’96 With My Ex compared to Last Month With My Lover… There’s no comparison. Two completely different versions of Me, different times, different parameters, different expectations, different activities, different partners, etc. It’s not even remotely quantifiable.
The best sex I’ve ever had?
Why—the sex that I’m in the post coital bliss from of course. “This” time seems to blank out all the other times, and that makes every encounter a kind of “first” time. And if a lover is any good, he will try to make it so.
Almost like a work of art. You want to make it an act of creative beauty, a gift to she who receives it. And vice versa too of course. But I comment as a mere male—who can ultimately know what is in a woman’s mind?
One can only react to the sparkle of desire as she demands more of that which brings her so much pleasure. Words are not necessary to know that for her too, this has been her best sex ever, and that the next time will be better still. She always wants more of it, to go on for hours and days, pleasuring herself into orgasmic oblivion time after time.
Oooh–! So interesting that you should refer to sex as a gift! I’ve had numerous discussions with the men in my life about Sex As Gift, and Sex As Service. It’s a rather *particular* mindset, and one that’s not instinctual for me. (Except, I suppose it is; it must be, somehow, as these are the types of men I tend to attract.)
And I agree: Every time, no matter how often you’ve been with that same partner, is new. No two encounters are ever exactly the same, even if they follow a similar pattern. The state of mind, the exact emotions, the things said, the looks shared… It is all, always, subtly (or strikingly) different. “A work of art” is an apt description; while an artist may have a certain style or prefer a certain palette, no two compositions are ever exactly the same. 🙂
Do you find it harder or easier to answer the question ‘who is the best sex partner you ever had?’ This one I can always answer, though never without wondering why I ever let her get away . . .
Ehhh… Easier? Maybe? I dunno though, it’s still so subjective, and reliant on relevant factors.
I can definitely tell you who the worst was. The most conceited, the laziest, the least stamina, etc.
The best…how?
I can tell you who was the best at climbing inside my head and fucking my mind, who was the most intuitive, who was the most patient, the most enthusiastic, the easiest to communicate with, etc. (And no, they are not all the same person.) The best sexual partner in terms of openness and non-judgment is not necessarily the best choice for a threesome partner. The person who best knows how to press all my hot buttons in writing is not the person to whom I am best suited physically. The most willing to provide me multiple orgasms is not the most capable of doing so. The best at keeping things light-hearted and fun cannot give me the emotional connection I crave.
Etc., etc., ad infinitum.
So in terms of the ‘best sex partner’, I guess I have to say that it is whoever I am with, who is invested in and actively working toward our mutual sexual goals at that place and in that time.
I’ve had really good sex with pretty fantastic people, but I can no more say “__________ was the best sex partner I ever had” than I can say “the time that __________ was the best sex I’ve ever had.”
I will say, though, that – shockingly – my spouse remains my most compatible partner over the long term, because he knows me in ways that others don’t, and he has always ridden an arc somewhere between Tolerant and Enthusiastic when it comes to my various proclivities. At the same time, there is much he doesn’t know, about what I want and what I’ve done, because there are certain things that are hard limits for him, or for which he is otherwise not the appropriate choice of partner.
Some days, it feels like my blog is all about trying to answer this question – in all its potential, memories and recounting, fantasies, and my present burgeoning needs. Always grateful to have you as mirror along this journey. Thanks, Feve.
Lola xo
Memories of future past, fantasies of reality present… Yes. In all its potential. 🙂
Totally. 🙂
The word “the” followed by a superlative always raises a red flag for me.
It’s the all-caps THE, yes? THE most amazingest whatchamacallit. 😉
Haha- “the least effort on my part.” I love the times I can just lie back and enjoy!
Oh, me too! 😀
(And I like telling my partner to just lie back and enjoy as well – reciprocity is a Good Thing. 😉 )
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