...you hear footsteps approaching your door.

It takes a few precious seconds to even register what you're hearing through the pleasurable haze, and the spike of cold horror only hits you when you hear a familiar feminine voice through the door:

"Hey Ella, you up yet?"

The door handle rattles slightly as her hand closes on the other end. She's about to turn it, about to come in, and you have just seconds to decide what to do as your treacherous hand continues to pump at your shaft, continues to try and relieve the sweet agonizing pressure that's built to a near crescendo between your legs...