Edging

10/3 As per your instructions, I laid down after work, before I had dinner. As I said in my texts, my sex drive has just been pretty low since the summer ended. Still I did what you said. I read the story you sent me. It felt nice to not think about it and just follow the list of rules you gave me.

I did things slowly. I admit, there was something comforting in knowing I wasn’t going to come. I could just sort of linger and touch all the different parts of my body. There was something almost meditative about it.

After I read your story I closed my eyes and pictured the last time I went over your apartment. I pictured your hands on my body, on my throat. I certainly felt something, though it was dull. Like my body out of practice.

I got my toy out as you instructed. That low insistent buzz between my legs was so familiar. I started up that sort of building hill (or mountain) of my arousal. Still, my mind couldn’t really stay on the goal. Noises outside pulled my attention. I thought about checking my phone too many times. Still after a while I got to a place where my body was primed and my fingers were wet and I let myself drift off to sleep.

10/5 Sometimes when I follow your instructions on a busy day like today I feel extra service-y, like it is a real chore, not just something I already want to do that you just happen to reinforce.

Work was frustrating, I was late getting home, there was nothing to eat and I had to trudge to the store in the cold.

In bed, I felt very negative towards my body. Looking down at my breasts, my little stretch marks, my bad skin. Still I was doing something for you and that was important. It was really the last thing I had to do that day, my last task. I tried to take it seriously, I tried to get to that place in my head, that sort of space where I don’t have to think, where my body takes over.

I pictured only physical things, no fantasies, no complexities, just cocks and mouths and wet cunts. I pictures being forced between a girl’s legs, made to go down on her, while someone fucked me from behind.

I got my toy and put it on medium. I rubbed it against myself in little circles. I like to push it hard, just above my clit, then softer moving down, though never really directly on it until the end.

There is a little thing I think of sometimes, not even a fantasy, just sort of a single moment. I think of someone fucking me from behind, I can’t see them, then I feel that person sort of get pulled or pushed away and someone else takes their place. People taking turns fucking me, people I can’t see.

Then I was almost coming and I laughed as I stopped. It felt like a real edge, like the ones I did for you the last time we played this game

10/8 Three times a week, that’s what you said. I laid in bed in the morning, before getting up. I had my toy on the little table next to me, next to my alarm clock.

Usually a wear a t-shirt and panties to bed, but sometimes in the middle of the night I peel them off. I like it when I wake up naked, but don’t remember doing that. I like to think of someone coming and pulling off my clothes and using me while I’m asleep.

It always goes fast in the morning. My toy under my warm covers. Already wet from the dream I had before I woke up. I have to bend and twist my body under the covers so I can get my fingers inside of me while I use my toy. I need to be filled up. I consider getting that dildo I bought, but it is already coming like a little train.

In a little flash I think of being bad. I think of keeping it on my clit one more second. It’s going to coming. It’s almost there. Then I’m pounding on the mattress as I push the buzzing toy away just in time.

I wait and curse under my breath and my hands go to my tits. I’m rough with them the way you are. I pinch my nipples and twist them and slap them a little.

In a few minutes I go again, my toy almost right on my clit. The sheets off me. I’m on my knees, riding the vibrator thinking of when you had me ride your face, how embarrassed I was to be on top of you like that.

I had to stop or I would keep going all morning. The addictive little ups and downs.

10/10 You flipped the switch and now I’m fucked, or not fucked, I don’t know.

Quick update. I had my little vibe in my bag at work. There is a single bathroom down in the basement that no one goes in. I went at lunch. It’s sort of a dirty little room. It reminds me of a gas station bathroom (though it’s not disgusting, just dingy.)

I pictured it had a glory hole. I pictured strange cocks being pushed towards me. I had to service them. I tried with my mouth, but it wasn’t good enough. I had to let them all fuck me. I had to let them come inside of me because I didn’t have any condoms.

It was a stupid little fantasy. I edged three times in about fifteen minutes. I felt like a real slut in that little room. When I was done it smelled like sex. It smelled like me. It made me embarrassed and even hornier. I didn’t have time to go again so I washed up and sprayed the little perfume I keep in my bag on me and around the little room. I went back to my desk and stewed.

How long do I do this? What do I get at the end? It’s starting to make me deliciously dizzy.

11/11 I totally forgot I had a date. OKCupid, whatever, he was nice, we texted a few times two weeks ago.

It can be complicated keeping all my rules in my head at the same time so at lunch at work I wrote down all the things you’ve told me. It seemed like more in my head, but it was basically:

1. I’m not allowed to have an orgasm without your permission.

2. I have to edge at least three times a week and record those edging sessions with brief notes and at least one picture or little video.

3. I have to send you all notes about my weekly masturbation by 10pm every Sunday.

So, having a date should be fine, right? I probably wouldn’t fuck him on the first date anyhow. Even if I did, that doesn’t mean I would come. I hardly ever come from just penetration anyhow, but I know I’m getting to that place where it will take less and less to make me come. My body is always a little on edge.

Thinking about being with a guy while following your rules made me turned on all day at work. I had to run home and shower before meeting him. My hands got all grabby while I was under the hot water. My soapy skin making everything slippery and delicious.

I left the house in a state.

He was oblivious, of course. We sat and chatted over dinner. He was far less my type than I thought he was going to be. There was something sort of snide about him. He was a musician who also taught music. He talked about contemporary music with disdain. It made him very unattractive. There was something about his unattractiveness that made me want him to fuck me.

Was it that or was it just all the edging? Was I in an altered state? Was I becoming a desperate whore?

It was a little unfair, thinking about all these things as poor music guy talked about auto-tuning.

We walked around the East Village for a while after dinner, but I sort of made it obvious I wasn’t going to go home with him. Still, we sat in Tompkin’s Square Park and made out a little. His hand went to my knee and my legs opened instinctively. He grew bolder and moved his hand to my thigh, but I chickened out when I saw people coming over to where we sat.

We kissed a little more and I let him feel me up. I wanted his hands on me. I wanted to see his cock. I pushed myself away and stood up and told him I had to be up early. Poor guy took it well.

I went home and barely made it in the door of my apartment before I fingered myself. I knew I was too close to even use a toy, I had to reply on my fingers, even then I almost came three times before I finally went to bed.

10/12 Returning to life with my libido back. I have more energy. I’m more engaged. I’m also always a little preoccupied. I woke up early and laid in bed and made a game of using only my hands on myself. The climbing and the hills and valleys of desire.

It’s not that I am addicted to my vibrators, but I’ve relied on them for a long time and sometimes I forget all my teen years where all I had was my fingers and humping pillows and the bathtub faucet and all the other ways I figured out to get myself off.

Sometimes I think of what it would be like if teenage me met teenage you. Sometimes I think of what it would be like if teenage me met adult you. But that’s bad, shh.

Sometimes I think of completely inappropriate people, like my friend’s father who is in his 70s. Gray beard and pot belly and what it would be like to be his present to unwrap and how I would let myself follow his wise lead.

Sometimes I think of people I used to work with, people I didn’t like. Thinking of people who I don’t like always seems to get me off, which doesn’t seem very healthy, but hey, what is?

I think of a man who was a manager when I had some stupid retail job. He was very snide and sarcastic, but not in a particularly charming way. He cut me off when I spoke. I don’t actually want to fuck him, but in my head, with my hand under the blanket, I think of him pushing me in a back room.

I think of that first time you brought me how and how I wanted to look at your bookshelf but you were impatient. You made me strip. You took away all of my self defenses, one by one. You wouldn’t let me fidget. You wouldn’t let me close my eyes. You made me make a big mess all over your bed.

Edged three times before work. Will probably do more tonight. I’m in heat.

Addendum: Yes, I can meet you Sunday! Does that mean what I think it means?

10/15 Am I supposed to write about today too? I’m not sure what all the rules are, but I want to get it all out while it is still fresh in my head, so here it goes.

I edged in the morning, in bed. It has become part of my morning routine. It’s made me into a needy slut all week. Everyday I linger in bed before I get on the train, before I go to work, before I do all the adult things I’m supposed to do, but in my head I’m just a pouting wanton dripping animal.

You are aware, I’m sure. You set all these rules up to make me like this. It makes me feel cared for through, which seems silly to write, but your thoughtfulness in constructing this whole thing is heartening. And infuriating.

It’s Sunday, so no work, but lots of chores. I had to shop. I had to do laundry. After the gym I rushed home to shower. I didn’t have a lot of time, but my fingers found there way between my legs again. Even though I knew what might be coming, I still couldn’t help but play a little more. My pussy was so greedy.

I took a cab to your apartment, which is very unlike me, but I was running late and I was feeling mixed up, like I might get lost. I was stupid from need.

I got to your apartment and for a little while I got pulled into the sweetness of your hospitality. You made me tea, you asked about my day, you gave me hugs and kisses. I felt a little bad for feeling impatient. I didn’t want to talk, I wanted you to fuck me, but I was quiet. I tried to stay still, not fidget, not let on how desperate I was.

In your bedroom you very casually started pulling off my clothes. You were still talking about work and I stupidly didn’t even really realize what you were doing until you were pulling off my panties.

You kept talking about normal things as you slowly fingered me on your bed. I tried to answer when you asked me things. It started getting very confusing. Then your fingers were inside of me and I couldn’t even hear you. I knew you were laughing at me though.

You brought out your vibrator and my heart started racing. I wondered if you were really going let me use it. I almost didn’t notice you taking off your pants. Then the thick head of the hitachi was on me, just above my clit, buzzing and agitating me into that non-thinking place. I was climbing fast and then even faster when you slipped two fingers into me.

“Better do it fast,” you said with another laugh.

I tried, it was building, but then there was pressure and I couldn’t get there. You were counting down, you got to one before I could come and you pulled your fingers and the vibrator away.

It was so much more than edging because you were in control. You took me to a cliff and pushed me but then pulled me back at the last minute. I whined and pounded against the mattress and you just laughed.

Then you were hitting me, smacking my ass and slapping my breasts and it was like I forgot how much I wanted that. It’s all so confusing. I wanted to come, but I wanted the pain too. It was all intoxicating. When I fell into the rhythm of your spanking, your fingers snaked and pushed into me again. I was dripping wet. I was begging.

Then the vibrator was back, your fingers were back, you were counting again and the race was on. It didn’t take any time that go though, I asked you if I could come and you laughed, I didn’t know what that meant, I was so close, I begged and you finally said yes.

Then everything was swirling and warm and it was so powerful I didn’t know what to do. It felt like it was too much, like it was never going to stop. It was like all those orgasms I stopped were all just waiting and suddenly they all hit me at once.

It’s hard to remember what happened next. As I was coming you rolled me on my stomach and then you were fucking me. Is that right or was that later? I don’t know, but you were fucking me and it felt amazing. It felt better than amazing. It was like I was filled up and vibrating all over. I heard your gruff little sounds. My body went limp and I let you use me and it was my favorite part. Sometimes I feel so lucky.

When you were done with me you are kind again. You pet my head. You cuddle me. I feel sweet.

Then there is this overwhelming flood of satisfaction. I did it. You let me do it. The waiting was over.

… but only minutes later I already wanted to come again.

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