Seriously, “being good in bed” is mostly just turning girls into needy, desperate, pillow-humping sluts-on-the-edge-of-a-nervous-breakdown well in advance of touching them… by the time I’ve got a hand on a throat, literally anything I do —whether intense or half-hearted— is sexual heavy ordnance. And perhaps unsurprisingly, I like winning battles before they’re fought.
So to answer the question: probably the last few minutes. I mean, at any given time of the day, there’s at least one creepy girl scrolling this blog and rubbing herself furiously at the thought of sitting in my lap.
And that’s just the strangers. I’m in the curious position of being able to make girls wet by occasionally remembering they exist, and for whatever reason, the sound of my voice can make a good girl de-goodify herself in ignominious fashion… in short, my relationship with the female orgasm could best be compared to someone trying to put the cap on a Coke bottle after dropping in a Mentos.
The impressive thing is that I actually manage to screw those frothing bitches shut from time to time.