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Summary
“What I was saying is that I believe the G-spot orgasm is a lie. It’s a myth. Something told to teenage girls to entice them into having sex so they’ll lose their virginities in so-so fashion in the back of a car only to be left a few weeks later by some loser looking to repopulate the penguins in Antarctica and —” She trailed off as Eloise started to poke her in the ribs and Daphne mumbled “Girrrrrl” into her drink quietly.
Colin’s brain felt fuzzy as he absorbed her words. He knew she was referencing her terrible ex-boyfriend Alfred. But now he knew that fucker took her virginity and did a terrible job and what was he supposed to do with that information? File it away, probably, so that he could unpack it at 3:00 in the morning on a random Tuesday.
At twenty-seven years old, he’d had his share of sexual experiences. None of it had been particularly mind-blowing, and as he thought harder, he couldn’t actually remember a partner getting off entirely in that way. Or had they? Why was he suddenly not sure?
Was it actually possible that Penelope was right?
No, that couldn’t be true.
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Let's have some *platonic* orgasms, like besties do ✌️