I love those few minutes of dreamy, light-headed bliss, post-orgasm. I don’t mean the immediate aftermath, when my heart’s still racing and I’m a whirling mess – a deep pool of pure euphoria – though to be clear, I fucking love that bit too. I’m talking about the feeling I get when my breathing has returned to normal, but my body is still swimming with endorphins; when all I want to do is stretch out and let them flow through me.
It’s in those moments that I’m truly aware of my own happiness, and even as reality fades back in, I feel the lingering stamp of that rare, active contentment. It blocks off all anxiety, self-doubt and pain, so I cling to it greedily for as long as I can; because honestly, who would ever want to let it go?