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Happy-Endings Hero

“I guess you’ll have to try harder next time,” Sophia says.

My response? “Just say when.”

Those are the first words I think when my eyes pop open the next morning. I’m staring at the ceiling of our shared room, wondering where the hell I went wrong.

Last night, Sophia was clearly enjoying herself. With the way she moaned my name, I was ready for her world to break open, but then there was a deafening pause lasting for full minute of nothing.

Nothing.

I can’t be sure since I couldn’t see her, but it felt like she neared the end of the race and then collapsed from exhaustion. The pleasure, the heat, and the unfettered moans slipped away. Gone.

At first, I thought I had upset her. But when I understood what happened, I was disappointed. For her, of course, but also for myself.

I tried to play her happy-endings hero, yes, but it was also selfish. It was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to live out my own sexy daydreams. These last few days, I’ve been desperate for her, and with things unfinished, that need is heightened and ready to detonate.

The good news? In her eyes, we’re still playing a game, and I lost. I’m the biggest loser. I have another shot, and maybe as many shots as it takes to make her finish.

That’s not a terrible place to be. I’ll claim that big L prize and turn it into a big O if it’s the last thing I do. If anything, I’m more determined than before.

After Sophia fell asleep, I got up to shower. If you can call it that.

I simply stepped into the hot stream, and my dick released like a sprinkler watering the lawn. Cum pulsed and shot everywhere. It was a no-pump sperm dump, a total crime scene.

I felt guilty that I came so easily. Though, when I walked out of the bathroom, rubbing a towel over my wet hair, Sophia was asleep with a smile on her face, seemingly unaffected by our failed attempt.

Now, all I can do is eagerly await the chance to try again.

In the morning light, I sit up and rake a hand through my hair. When I only hear the birds chirping outside the windows, I tug the sheet wall aside and find Sophia’s bed empty.

Matt’s annoying hee-haw laugh resonates from the first floor. Voices chit-chat. Kitchen cabinets open and close. Someone turns on music. I guess they’ve recovered from their all-nighter. Perhaps they just got home.

On my way to the bathroom, I stop in my tracks. Near the window on Sophia’s side of the room lies a cylinder rod. I walk to it and nudge it with my big toe. It turns over and sparkles in a patch of sunlight. The thing looks like a disco ball.

The night before replays in my mind. Specifically, the part where Sophia’s dildo sputtered to a halt, and she threw it across the room. At least, that’s what I thought happened. I pick up the rod and stare at it.

It’s a goddamn electric toothbrush. This is what she’s been trying to get off with?

“Jesus Christ.” I’ll never be able to brush my teeth again without thinking about this.

When Matt’s obnoxious laugh leaks into the room again, I hide the contraband in a safe place and go about my morning routine.

Three pairs of discerning eyes watch me descend the stairs. Matt drinks milk directly from the gallon jug before pouring more into his cereal bowl.

“What?” I stop on the bottom step, my arms spread wide.

“Dude. Dude!” Matt says. Milk drips from his chin and back into his bowl of Lucky Charms. He’s disgusting.

“What!” I try again, hoping he will tell me why Amelia looks like she wants to scoop out my eyes and play marbles with them.

“You said you weren’t going to hit that,” Matt says.

“I’m not hitting that.” My voice pinches at the accusation, even though I’d be more than happy to. But then I think twice and scan the room.

No Sophia.

Matt gives me a look like he doesn’t believe me.