Our recent discussions about how long I should wait between orgasms has triggered a conversation between Mrs. Lion and I. I expressed a desire for longer wait times. This is motivated by my recent thinking about how much fun edging is. When I get to ejaculate, there is a period when I am not as horny as I am now. This isn’t surprising. I’ve used that as a reason to keep the edging going longer. I’m not entirely sure that’s right.
Yes, it’s a reason. But it isn’t all that convincing. I don’t think I have a good reason why I asked to lengthen my wait. But there is a reason.
It could be that edging and waiting is a sort of sexual sport. No, I’m not crazy. Hear me out. My penis is the, um, ball in this game. Mrs. Lion stimulates it as close as she can to triggering me to ejaculate. She repeats this activity many times in a session. I am left in a horny puddle when she is done. Every day this is repeated without allowing me to ejaculate, my desperation to finish increases. At the same time, I feel a perverted sense of pride in my ability to withstand day after day of this sexual torture.
It’s fun, of course, to be masturbated repeatedly. The sensations are extremely strong. But the last notes of the sexual symphony don’t get played. Think of the children’s chant, “Shave and a haircut, two bits”. You know the pattern; dah dah dah dah dah…..dah dah. It always feels odd and a little uncomfortable when someone just does the first part and leaves off those last two beats. Many people complete it in their minds; some do it out loud.
Well, edging is the first part without those last two notes. Because the sexual stimulation triggers deep-seated, instinctual reactions, it’s impossible to become immune. I want those last two notes! Each day and each edging within a session makes me want the comfort of the conclusion more and more.
So where’s the game?
For Mrs. Lion there is a continuing challenge to control my sexual reactions to her stimulation. I don’t always reach the edge of orgasm after 300 strokes or a thousand. She is challenged to read my responses and force me to believe that this is the time. Even though I know she won’t let me finish, my reptilian brain is sure I will ejaculate. I can’t help but tense myself, ready to fire. Mrs. Lion watches all this and knows that she wins again.
For my part, I have to rationalize this frustration as part of something I truly want. I’m challenged to help Mrs. Lion make things worse for me. My role is to encourage her teasing and help her extend my wait. It becomes a sexual game of chicken. Will I be grateful when she lets me ejaculate, or could I have happily gone more. She keeps driving me toward that brick wall of orgasm denial. I wonder if I will crash or finally break through. When I crash, yet again, can I encourage her to have another go?
I’ve encouraged her to add a “bonus” to the opportunity to ejaculate. I think of it as the price of that ultimate pleasure. Post Orgasm Torture (POT) is one way for me to pay. Another, is uncomfortable BDSM play as part of the session. Of course, to prevent me from being able to predict when I get to come, Mrs. Lion provides the painful play when I end up without ejaculating.
Let’s face it, this isn’t serious stuff. It’s supposed to be fun in very different ways, for both of us. I think we both can honestly say we are having a good time. By the way, there is a new feature on the right column of the blog. I’ve added a graph of my orgasms and waits between them. Another way I can tell Mrs. Lion is having more fun is that the trend is for longer and longer waits. I just hope Mrs. Lion doesn’t get too carried away. Play Ball(s)!
Postscript:
After Mrs. Lion previewed this post, we talked about her thinking (which, of course is the law) on my waits. Her response set me aback,
“You can make it at least 21 days, can’t you?”
“I suppose I can.”
I’m not at all sure I want to. But, of course, that’s completely beside the point.
