Living on the Edge

You can say I am sort of living on the edge by writing this post the night before we fly to London for Eroticon, and also living on the edge for having it published on the last day of this prompt. But, I want to talk about a different kind of ‘edge’.

The edge I am talking about is that delicious feeling where you are about to reach your climax and where you a literally balancing on the edge and trying not to tip over and give in to your body’s craving for release. To me it’s that burning sensation, where my pussy seems to be on fire, and where I know that only an orgasm will extinguish the blaze. I can be quite a masochist in this situation (others too) denying myself the release, stopping the movement of my fingers until the desire disappears and then starting again to bring me back to the edge. Over and over again.

You get it. I love edging. I love to build the desire. I love ‘torturing’ myself, knowing that eventually I will give allow myself the sweet prize.

Are my orgasm bigger and better when I edge first? No. Whether I wank and let an orgasm build and happen, my orgasm can be just as strong (or weak) as when I edge repeatedly and only then reach my climax. Edging is not the means to a goal, but it IS the goal. I always allow myself to orgasm, but sometimes I just want to postpone it; to enjoy the ministrations of my fingers because that is what I want to feel: the desire of my body.

The above is when I am alone and masturbating, but there are moments when I am not alone, when Master T is with me. He has edged me before, but it works differently then. He would finger-fuck me and alternate that with rubbing my clitoris up to the moment I ask whether I am allowed to orgasm, and then he would stop. Then it would start and stop. And start. And stop. Until he allows me my orgasm. With this kind of edging I don’t get the same burning sensation in my loins or balance as close to the edge as when my fingers are the ones stimulating me.

Another way of edging is also when Master T is with me, but when he orders me to edge myself. You would think that I can then hold myself on the edge the way I do when I am all alone, but this is not true either. Then too I don’t get that burning desire in my loins, or get myself as close to the edge. I think this last way sometimes is more a mental way of edging, as he is the one in control of my orgasm, despite me being the one getting myself closer.

This might mean that when I am edging myself in a solo session, where I can concentrate only on myself and no one else, I am not only in sync with my body, but with my mind too. I need to be able to focus fully, to notice every change in my body, every nerve joining the build-up towards my grand release. When Master T is present, whether he is the one frigging me or I am doing it myself, I am too focused on him to notice the changes. I am on the edge, but it feels different than when I am alone.

Masturbating alone…

Which do I like best? All of them. I don’t have a preference as each of the situations I have described is sexy and hot and eventually I am allowed to climax. And I always have my orgasm!

There was only one moment I can remember where my orgasm was as good as gone after an edging session and that was with The Talker. I the one date we had with him he was fingering me and frigging my clitoris, but constantly denying me my orgasm. I begged him to allow me to come, and eventually he said: “No, because then you don’t want to play anymore.”
I don’t think it’s the edging that made my orgasm much less enjoyable than it was, but the idea of him thinking I would be done after one orgasm. That thought nestled itself somewhere deep in my mind and sort of ruined my orgasm. Had he not said it and had he allowed me to come once and then edged me again, it would have been an entirely different session, I think.

Which makes me think… if Master T would edge me for so long, if he would make me beg for an orgasm and he would say no over and over again, would my orgasm eventually be as weak as it was in the session with The Talker?
Somehow I hope to never find out…

© Rebel’s Notes

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