Stage 1: You Could Be Watching Netflix Right Now
It's that last minute regret. Kind of like buyer's remorse. You know this is probably going to take awhile, but it'd be rude to RSVP and then bail at the last minute. So you hunker down, hope for the best, and try to stop thinking about the last episode of Dexter.
Stage 2: ...This Might Not Suck
You were trying to keep busy by attempting to count how many DVDs he had on the shelf across the room when it hit you: This is starting to vaguely resemble something that could potentially feel pleasurable. Indeed! This man has some semblance of knowledge of the female anatomy. Give him a cookie.
Stage 3: NOPE NOPE NOPE Not the Back Door
Maybe he got lost. Maybe he intentionally veered off Google Maps and took a detour. Regardless, he is a gentleman and you are a lady, and the prison hole is a definite no-no region.
Stage 4: For the LOVE OF GOD Don't Stop What You're Doing
Like Edison and the light bulb, he's got it. He's found the magic spot. He knows not to touch it directly, so instead he drives around it like a cul-de-sac. Your muscles start to pulse and contract and you pray to sweet baby Jesus that in your uncontrolled spasming, you don't accidentally fart on his face.
Stage 5: You're So Close, We're So Close, the Neighbor Down the Street is So Close
You can't remember the last time you had this much fun without a vibrator. It's happening. It's coming. You can feel it rising up through your toesies. Quick. Arch your back. Flip your hair. Lick your lips. How's your o-face? Is it pretty?
Stage 6:
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Stage 7: Jk. It Was a Wet Dream and You're Late for Work.
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