It’s totally predictable now. Orgasms = diminished urge to blog about not having orgasms. Interestingly, my interest in non-orgasmly focused topics goes up. If this blog covered other aspects of my life, then I’d still have something to talk about, but since it’s so focused on our sex life, it suffers when she lets me come.
My last post was very hard to write simply because I lost the desire to write about it. Looking back, I’m not that happy with it, but there it is. Belle let me come again on Saturday morning, but it wasn’t her idea. I was feeling pretty frisky, what with the unencumbered man meat I was sporting, and I made that friskiness known by climbing up on her and gyrating said man meat into her. Subtle, I know. Not exactly respecting her personage, but I totally would have cut it out if she had told me to. And that’s the thing about respecting her personage. I know I get more sex (or, what passes for sex for me) when I can come on to her. The trade-off is, she’s under less pressure to give in and is therefore happier. I’m left recognizing situations in which I probably could get her to let me do stuff, but I’m forced to let them pass due to our agreement. I’m not complaining. I’m just saying. That’s what accepting her control means, right? Saturday morning, though, I pushed the limits knowing she was in a good mood and we had nothing much to do and the kids weren’t all in our face or anything. She indulged me.
I did not intend to come as I did not have permission, but I let my concentration slip as she approached her orgasm and came anyway. I kept right on pumping through it which caused the head of the cock to burn in oversensation, but she needed to come still. Afterward, she told me I could go but, you know, I already had. How do they not notice? I’m literally spraying fluids into her and she can’t feel them? Oh, well. Coming accidentally didn’t make me feel all that bad because I now know I really can control my orgasm, even after more than three weeks. It’s just a matter of practice. Lots and lots of practice.
In the days since, I’ve felt wispy feelings of denial start to creep back (which might explain why I’m here). She’s been playfully touching her cock and saying little things at random times and that helps a lot. Last night, after she told me to get naked, she gave it the most gentle little strokes as she fell asleep – like petting a small animal – with random thwacks at my nuts mixed in. It was nice. Very nice.
In general, I’m feeling really, really good about where we are now. It’s like we’ve settled into a nice little groove. I feel her control with me all the time. The idea of coming absent her go-ahead is alien to me now. Plus, I’m not all freaked about how my feelings have changed since I know it’s temporary (and the 10-14 days after the orgasm give me the highest high anyway). She seems very comfortable in her role and, as I said, is being playful about it. In short, things are awesome.
Nowhere to go but down, right? 😉
I’m just saying. That’s what accepting her control means, right?
Perversely, I’m just as, um, suggestive even when I know that she’s not going to take me out of the cage. It’s like I’ve been able to sublimate the desire for orgasm into something else.
Mrs. Edge doesn’t mind me doing this, but she does appreciate that she now has more control over the sitch, and that gives her a warm glow. Go figure.
Exactly. And now, I’ve learned to resublimate whatever the desire sublimated into into yet another thing…
Belle sometimes feels as though my uber horny denied self puts too much pressure on her. There is a line there somewhere, though, because she also likes it when I come on to her, regardless of the state of the cock.