Edging, the art of masturbating with small children in the house.
Well for me that was definitely my introduction to it, not that I knew it was even called that at the time, all I knew was that it was very frustrating. They have finally fallen asleep and you have tidied up, eaten some food, maybe even had a longed for shower and then you think that a wank would be nice. Of course sometimes they would sleep on but I always felt that both mine had a radar when it came to either wanking or pooing. The moment my arse touched the loo seat they would wake up and the moment my fingers strayed to between my thighs the same thing would happen.
Maybe that is why I never really liked edging
Joking aside I have dabbled with edging. It is something Michael got me to do when were living apart. On two occasions just prior to his visits he set me the task of edging for a certain amount of time each day. I think because I knew he was coming and I would finally get to be touched again I actually enjoyed it and it definitely turned me on. As each day went by I got more and more turned on, my cunt was wet and throbbing and I can clearly remember nearly getting off on the seam of my jeans I was that desperate. By the time he arrived here I was almost climbing the walls. We made it back to the house, just, and he finally made me cum up against the wall in the hallway still wearing my coat.
However my orgasms can be an elusive little fucker at times. As a general rule things have to be just right for it to happen, too hot, too cold, in an uncomfortable position, and it will likely never happen no matter how much rubbing takes place and if it does go off in a sulk it tends to vanish for a little while and I have discovered that interrupting that build up can cause one of those sulks. So edging over a short period of time doesn’t work for me. I can’t edge, stop, edge, stop and then orgasm because the act of stopping like that doesn’t bring me closer to the edge each time it seems to pull me away from it, making the build up each time take longer until it just doesn’t seem to work anymore. We have learned from experience that stopping stimulation as I approach orgasm is a sure-fire way to completely kill off the chance of my coming. It might happen eventually but it will take its time and might even take a complete break and starting over to coax it back to life.
I am also an orgasm slut. I fucking love orgasms and I am firmly of the belief that more is better. Waiting or putting them off, well why? Let’s have them. One in the morning, one at lunch time and one at bed time sounds good to me. Now obviously life rarely affords time for all that and it is a bit of an exaggeration but I would more than happily have an orgasm a day. Before Michael was in my life I rarely left my bed in the morning without knocking one out and if I did I nearly always made sure I found time for it later in the day. I love my orgasms, I love my body for being able to do that. In fact it one of my favourite things about my body. I think because I only discovered how to make myself come in my mid twenties I have always felt like a day without one is an opportunity wasted and so if there is any chance of one I will generally take it.