Page 127 - Interior_SPRING SUMMER FALLING_2021

SPRING SUMME R FALLING | 127

Chapter 25

Sanya
T
here are several types of comas to which people refer. There are the real
comas: those are serious, and your loved ones are worried. There are
alcohol induced comas: you could have killed yourself, you asshole, and
your loved ones are worried. There are food comas: you ate too much and may have
gestational discomfort, but all you need is some good stretchy pants and a nap. And
my new personal favorite, sex comas.

I wake up disoriented. I don’t know who I am or where I am. I stretch in my
empty bed and marvel at the high-quality sleep I’ve just experienced. I search my
brain for the cause of this groundbreaking sleep remedy. I catch a whiff of Henry’s
scent on my pillow, and everything rushes back. I get Technicolor flashbacks of last
night. My mind rivals ESPN’s play-byplay technology, giving me highlights in
ultra-high-definition quality with surround sound.
I’m instantly wet; and my nipples beg for attention. I pop up to a sitting

position to survey the room. I’m alone, and my door is closed. I feel a rush of
disappointment. If he were next to me, I would climb on him and treat myself to a
morning orgasm. No one has ever made me fall apart like he has. He’s filled me in
ways I didn’t know was possible.
Teo was a total waste of time; he only did the bare minimum to get himself off.
He was never concerned with my pleasure. My sex life wasn’t total shit; I’ve had
good sex before Teo’s disappointing skills. I’ve bragged about a guy before. I’ve had
orgasms. Just none like last night. I don’t know if it is because of Henry or the
months of sexual tension, but I’d love to find out.