Charmer has been experimenting. Again.
Edging is one of those things that fit in the “frustration, but hella fun” category. It’s bizarre, difficult to manage at times, and overall, it’s a very demanding thing (don’t you feel sorry for me? )
Honestly, though, I don’t mean demanding in that way. I mean, I know that if I stumble over that top bar and accidentally slip into an orgasm without that being her intent, that it’ll be a drag and disappointing for her and would likely mean an end to the festivities. So yeah, the “no O until I say” thing is a big deal.
But the thing she’s been trying at various times lately is this thing of quantity. I’m not sure the actual count is key, but it’s this thing of all day long, at very, very regular intervals (usually hourly) – getting another batch in. A batch of edges.
For me, I will admit that I approach it in a defiant manner at first. “I got this. I can do this. I will not get all mushy and aggravated and vocal.”
Except each time, it never really works out that way. I think she has really had fun with this because she likes to try different things. Sometimes it’s getting me there. Sometimes it’s KEEPING me there. Sometimes it’s ruined, then getting me there again. Honestly, I didn’t know my body would do all the things she has it doing, and when you’re in the moment, trying to control, trying not to topple over that edge, it’s crazy.
I can tell you that I start out all coy.
But then this wave blows through my mind. It’s this wave of pure pleasure. Then it’s gone. Replaced by my body just pushing back, trying to get back in control. And it’ll work for a bit. But then she is relentless. Tight. Soft. Short stroke. Long. All of the above. And that wave comes back again.
It’s not an O in itself. It’s just a wave of animalness. It’s a wave of switching to the dark side. These waves start to come a bit closer together. I feel almost like floating above myself a bit, feeling this going on – I can’t look, it’s all pure 100% physical.
Then there are these flashes of light – and she senses them, always. Plays me like a fiddle almost. She knows to slow down, to have a lighter touch. To do this thing she does with the underside… omg. I feel her almost driving me, and it’s 100% physical, there’s really no mental to it at all. I switch to surrendering to the physical side of things.
My body, save one particular part, relaxes a little and accepts it. Accepts the inevitable and I get some (very short) time to ride that wave.
And then she stops. Giggles a little and I try my damndest to slow it down, block it off somehow, keep it from toppling over.
Because I want to go again. Maybe next time? Maybe not. But I want to go again.
It’s one of the most intense experiences and something that changes literally every time we get a chance to play with it at length… so I know we’re still learning. She’s still trying new things.
Which is amazing, terrifying, physical, distracting and hot as hell.