When It Stops Being Fun

Up until now these nightly edgings have been fun. I assumed at some point Lion would beg for release and I would give it to him. Last night, as we went to bed, he said he was frustrated and not in a good mood. I know it will pass. I know he’ll be ready for another round of teasing tonight. I know it’s not supposed to be all fun and games for him. Orgasms are fun. Being made to wait is not fun. Being reminded nightly that you’re not allowed to come is not fun. And my perception that it’s not fun, and therefore not worth it, is not fun.

Now, I’m sure if you ask Lion he’ll just say last night was a momentary setback and he’s trying not to grumble. He loves being teased. He loves being denied. At some level he loves everything I do to him. But his mood affects me usually more than it affects him. Huh? How is that possible? When he’s down, I worry about him. I feel bad about whatever is bothering him and the fact that I can’t make it better. When he’s frustrated I feel bad that I am the reason he didn’t get an orgasm. Why didn’t I just give him the orgasm? Well, he doesn’t really want me to. But that doesn’t stop me from arguing with myself about it. (I may be crazy. My mother never had me tested.)

I’ve been doing better at telling Lion (and myself) that I am doing these things because he wants me to do them. Every night when I am done edging him I tell him it’s my job to be mean to him. He knows. He understands. He agrees. And, yes, I tell him not only so he hears it, but I hear it too. We are both on the same page. I heard me say it. Did you hear me say it? Yes. Good. It’s really more reinforcement for me than for him.

Tonight I’ll edge him again. And again. I lose track of how many times I do it. He can’t count past the first two. Poor Lion. The blood flow travels from his brain to Mr. Weenie and he loses all ability to think. I do wonder if his limited brain power at that point is having its own conversation. “Please let me come. Please let me come. I don’t want to come. Please don’t make me come. Are you crazy? Of course I want to come! Damn it! I didn’t get to come. Can we play again tomorrow?”

What do you think?