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Blowing PM's mind: edging and other revelations

Writer's picture: akinkandaprayerakinkandaprayer

Updated: Sep 10, 2023

Kneeling in front of a seated PM, I hear him gasp, and I look up just in time to see his eyes roll into the back of his head. I'm not going to lie. The goddess in me grins maniacally.



And if I time it just right — if I am careful and properly in-tune with his physical responses — I can bring this man right up to the edge of that cliff. Let him stare into the abyss of pleasure that awaits him. Let him hover just before that point of no return.


But I won’t let him fall just yet. Oh no. I‘ll pull him back. And then I’ll repeat this blissful torture over and over until he asks, nay begs me to allow him to finish.


And when I finally grant him permission to come, he groans and his whole body jolts, as if I’ve sucked his soul from his body right through his dick.


It seems I’ve discovered the secret to the making of a goddess.


Yeah, so this week I want to talk a bit about edging, which one might also see referred to as “peaking,” “surfing,” or “orgasm denial.” And while there are many different avenues one may take to get there, in our case, I'm specifically talking oral as the means for this sexy little game I like to play with my Preacher Man.



Now I know what you may already be thinking. A long, drawn out blowjob? No, thank you. I mean, historically, I, too, would have cringed at the thought of this type of sex play. But hear me out, because it turns out, I didn't know what we were missing.


I was pretty unfamiliar with the whole concept until fairly recently. Sure, I’d heard the term “edging” before, but more often I’d come across the label “orgasm denial,” and that just sounded unpleasant — more like torture, really. For this reason, I think I primarily equated it with BDSM as a form of discipline.

This understanding I had of edging as punishment probably originated from novels like Fifty Shades of Grey where a pissed-off Christian fucks Ana and tells her she’s not allowed to come. Or a scene where he’s got her in the Red Room and he repeatedly brings her to the edge, only to deny her, because he’s angry at her for something or other. It’s all fine and good in a novel, but otherwise not my jam, to be honest.



Ironically, I think my introduction to edging, or orgasm denial (*cringes*), as a form of less dark sexy play also came from the world of written fiction. I found that the positive, playful vibes the author infused in the scene made me rethink my preconceptions. I thought, this actually sounds super hot. What’s this all about?



As one might expect, I followed up on this smut reading revelation with some googling, and I discovered that, in fact, BDSM folks aren’t the only ones playing this game of sorts and that…wait for it… edging produces a more intense climax.

Now, mind-blowing orgasms? That’s my jam.


Sure, oral sex often naturally unfolds as a lot of ups and downs. When going down on PM, I might find a groove, things seem to be moving along quickly towards a finish, but then I need to take a breath (’cause, I mean, a girl’s gotta breathe). Or I switch techniques, and all of a sudden his body relaxes a bit — I have inadvertently lost the tension that PM had building.


Edging, on the other hand, is done with intentionality. It’s gauging my partner’s level of arousal, and when I think we’re almost at the point of no return — it’s most effective, and fun, if I can get him right up to the edge — I switch gears. I bring the pot back to a gentle simmer (some other less arousing touch for 30 seconds or more), only to turn up the heat once again. And I’ll do this over and over for long as I want before I allow him to peak.



Or until PM begs me to finish. And what a friggin’ revelation that is! My cool-as-a-cucumber, always-in-control-of-himself partner, begging to come. The goddess in me revels in it.



But more on that in a moment.


Does PM use edging on me as a vulva-owner? That’s a no. Not that I haven’t thought about it. But let’s be real here. Repeatedly getting to the edge only to be denied reads like the story of my friggin’ life — well, my 40-something tired mom sex life, anyway. I’m in the zone, I’m almost there…so close. And just when that thought crosses my mind — finally! I mentally rejoice I jinx myself and lose it.


Or PM switches pressure or moves a few centimeters over or stops whatever lovely thing he was doing with his other hand, and it’s gone. Or one of our brood starts pounding on the bedroom door because [insert some stupid shit that kids do], and we’ve got to start back at square one.


Forty-five minutes of amazing cunnilingus that keeps getting sabotaged by one thing or another? Yeah, that’s already my sexy, messy life. Why in the name of all that is holy would I want PM to intentionally mimic my almost-everyday struggle to climax? I’ll pass, thank you very much.


Maybe when I was younger, pre-children, and had less distractions and could practically come on command, I would have been down with PM edging me. But nowadays, it’s hard enough for me to stay focused, to ignore whatever the fuck that noise is that’s coming from the other room or to not think about the clock and what needs doing when. PM’s quest for my orgasm is really a story of my own unintentional orgasm denial.



Perhaps we’ll revisit the topic of intentionally edging me in the near future –– maybe this summer during a relaxed child-free day of WBB (wake-bake-and-bone *winks*), and I’ll be sure to share all the deets with my readers. But as I said, I feel I inadvertently experience something akin to edging almost every time PM and I get freaky. And it’s maddening (and not in a good way). So it’s not something I’m in a hurry to try. *shrugs*


Back to the sweet, sweet torturing, nay pleasuring of PM…


I find the whole thing to be a fun, playful practice. Teasing and getting him wound up tighter and tighter, all the while I’m getting a better sense of his preferences and his tells. As I’ve said before, PM prefers to be in control in the bedroom. And he gives very little away in terms of reactions. He tends to be quiet, somber, while I’m the one that's moaning like a whore and swearing like a sailor.


So, when I get to watch his body tense and his neck tendons start to strain as he arches his head back. When I feel his thigh muscles turn to solid rock under my hand as he struggles not to thrust his hips. When I hear him gasp and pant. When I ask him if he wants to come, and he answers, Yes, I want to come, in a voice that’s all deep and husky with arousal. When I respond, Not yet, and it elicits a groan that’s half-displeasure and half-excitement.


I‘m a temptress, a siren, and I‘ve drawn that poor sucker right into my rocky shores. I’m in control, and right in that moment, I am everything I want to be.



It‘s this playful, low pressure form of switching from our typical dominant and submissive roles that has also allowed me to access and nurture a small domina part of myself that I normally lack the self-confidence and poise to channel.


Take my crash-and-burn attempt at a scene switching Dom/sub roles with PM that I chronicled here. My comfort zone typically keeps me squarely in a submissive space. I like to abdicate all control. I like not having to think, to plan. I like having all the things taken off my hands when we’re in the bedroom…or on the sofa, or in the shower, or on the table, or in the car… Yeah, suffice it to say, I like not taking the lead.


But, in my mind, oral sex walks a line between dominant and submissive roles. Here I am, submissively on my knees, taking my partner’s cock with little regard for my own pleasure. Yet, at the same time, I hold a key. I am master of my partner in that same moment. They’re metaphorically bound and shackled (though it could be literally *eyebrows waggle*), a slave to the pace I set, at my mercy, receiving whatever I choose to bestow.


There’s a certain magic there, a power in that space that I love to tap into. I am, at once, giver and taker. I control the advance. I control the valves. And if my hands aren’t bound, I really do control the wheel. I feel free in this sort of liminal space of both/and to switch back and forth. I find it incredibly exciting, and I always have ever since I gave my first blowjob back at the naive age of 17 (to PM, btw).


But edging? This is new for me, for us. We’ve been together over 20 years, and it never occurred to me that I’d want to draw out a blowjob. In all seriousness, although my opinion of and feelings surrounding giving head have changed and evolved over the years, intrinsically I don't find sucking cock to be the most enjoyable activity in the world.


Now, just to be clear, just because it hasn't been my favorite thing in the world, doesn't mean that PM hasn't been on the receiving end of many, many oral sessions. That being said, my approach in the past had been to finish the blowjob in the quickest, most efficient way possible. *shrugs* What can I say? I focused on the end result as opposed to viewing it as a way to engage my partner. And I got very good at getting PM his happy ending, nice and quick-like.


I can’t say I ever timed myself, but less than 5 minutes seems about right. PM was always thrilled to get one and wasn‘t complaining about my technique. So if it’s not broke, don’t fix it, right?




But in the past few years, as we brought a more playful approach into the bedroom, I’ve found that my perspective on giving oral sex began to change.

I’ve written in the past about how PM and I have broadened our definition of sex to include a variety of sexual acts that don’t involve P in the V, and that these sexy activities have become an end, in and of themselves. Whether oral sex or a handjob or some other means to climax, we’re playful and flexible in the ways that we satisfy one another’s sexual needs on a daily basis. (For more on that evolution in our sex life and how it has poured lighter fluid on that spark, see my essay here.)



Turns out, shifting the focus away from penetration has made space for us to explore other forms of pleasure (like kinky play, for one). It’s also transforming the way PM and I approach our erotic relationship in general. For instance, alternating turns for who’s getting off in a particular sesh often makes the most sense for us in our chaotic life. I’ve written more about this playful shift in our sexy life here, and it has been so friggin’ hot. I mean, really. Daily orgasms? Yes, please!



I’m finding I enjoy the dynamics and energy that giving head creates between PM and me. Now I actually get excited over the prospect of going down on him. And a surprising side effect of all this messing around (Netflix and chill, baby) has been that I’ve discovered more about PM’s turn-ons than I did in the over 20 years that we’ve been sleeping together. Who would have thought that there were things that I could still learn about this man??



But anyway...back to edging. Because only a week or two ago, I had yet another epiphany of sorts.



Normally when I use oral sex to edge PM, I go for three denials. I don't know why three. Just seemed like a good number. But recently I was feeling very generous and a bit sassy, I suppose, and I took our play to a whole new level and found myself utterly surprised at the results.


PM had treated me like a goddess on my birthday weekend. That man worshipped me like his life depended on it. We had a lovely few days hanging with friends and their families, and when we weren’t chillaxing with our people, he had me laid out like I was a feast and it was his last meal. It was intense. *fans herself*


After everything was said and done, I wanted to show him my appreciation for my wonderful weekend, so I decided I’d really draw out a blowjob for him. I hoped to make him feel as worshipped as he had made me feel. So this time I decide I'm going for five denials.


Don't come, I tell him each time we start to move toward his next peak. Don't come until I tell you to. Turns out that this simple instruction made all the difference for him. But more on that in a minute.



Forty-five minutes and five intentional stalls later, the man practically levitates off his seat. The effect I witness seems almost like electrocution...but in a mind-blowing, orgasmic kind of way. I was shocked and immensely pleased with myself, needless to say.



After he came back into his body, he thanked me profusely and said he'd never experienced anything like it. And this surprised the fuck out of me. I mean, I've been blowing this man for close to 25 years, and while I've picked up some new techniques here and there, I can't say I was doing anything radically different. This wasn't the first time I had edged PM during oral, so what was so different here?



Our conversation that followed –– because, of course, I needed to know why this blowjob was the blowjob to end all blowjobs –– led to a revelation. For the both of us.


I didn’t realize that all this time, over our many many years together, PM had been anxious about my giving him blowjobs. A part of him had always felt a little bad for me, and he had been rushing his climax. He wanted it to be over as quick as possible, on my behalf.



But I need some clarification. I don't edge him every time I go down on him, so what about when I do? I ask him if he feels this way even when he's surfing with me. Because, really, the whole point of this sort of play is to not rush it. But his answer is yes. He had been holding himself in a sort of strict check, all the time.



Apparently, he's been trying to walk this impossible line between holding himself back like I want him to and rushing himself toward the finish line each time, all in order for the session to end as quickly as possible for me. All for my comfort.




Which is sweet and sad at the same time. I’m glad he’s thinking of me, but I wasn’t doing this for me, in the first place. If he’s not going to allow himself to wholly enjoy the experience, why am I bothering to do all this work on him?! Okay, so I'm sad at this little epiphany and maybe a little annoyed, too. *grimaces* I'm a complex woman with complex (and sometimes slightly insane) emotions and responses. It is what it is.



Really, now that I think about it, his revelation shouldn’t have been surprising. This is exactly how I’ve felt most of our relationship when he’s given me oral. I've always been so anxious about how long it takes to get me to come. And, of course, worrying about that shit only makes it harder to let go. It’s the old adage about a watched kettle never boiling. In this case, I guess a self-conscious woman never comes? I don’t know. But it’s been a struggle for me as a vulva-owner for my entire sexually active life to let go and just enjoy the ride.


I’ve had to do serious work on my own psyche to be able to stay in the moment and not worry about time, or about how PM’s feeling, etc. And although I’ve made a lot of progress in that regard, at times I still catch myself asking him, “Are you comfortable?” "Is your neck okay?" Or apologizing to him that it’s taking so long for me to climax.



I've found that it helps me immensely when he reminds me while he's going down on me that there's no rush. When he insists that I take my time. When he tells me he doesn't want me to try to come. When he prompts me to relax and not think about my climax. These reminders help me stay present in my body and out of my head.


But I digress. Back to PM and his mental state. It never occurred to me that he might possibly be doing anything other than just sitting back and enjoying me going down on him. I guess maybe it's because penis-owners make it look so easy to climax. Who knew there could be a mental game going on behind the blissed out expression on their faces?


So as we're debriefing after this intense blowjob sesh and I openly express to him how I view the experience and what I’m hoping he’ll get out of it (besides just a climax), PM has an epiphany of sorts as well.


He realized that he had been avoiding exactly what I wanted him to have — the freedom of completely surrendering to the pleasure, unencumbered by worry over what I was experiencing. It was a revelation that what I want from him is exactly what he wants from me when he goes down on me. We're after the same goal, for our partner to stay physically present in the moment, turning down those distracting executive functionings of the brain, and to wholly accept and give in to the gift of pleasure being bestowed.



Another thing I learned from our conversation, which we’ve already put into practice: He informed me that it’s helpful for him to know ahead of time, before I start working him over, what I want to achieve. Am I going for a quick, knock-one-out, type of sesh, or do I want to take my time so that he can get lost in the experience? Because we don’t always have the time to edge. Nor are we always in the mood.



With this newly acquired knowledge about PM's own mental struggle to wholly relax and give into the moment, I determine to be even more intentional about my next time peaking him.



The next time I edge him, I immediately see a difference in his demeanor, in his body language. Whatever he had going on mentally before, he seems to have had a reset. And just some simple, playful instructions seem to be all he needs to really relax.



I let him know I’m not going to allow him to come. That he’s going to have to wait. He nods with a slight pant, and my inner goddess is ecstatic.



As I begin, I tell him that I want to blow his mind. I remind him that if I’m putting all this effort in, I want him to be in the moment and completely enjoy himself, not to worry about me.


I can feel the change in his body, a relaxing of tension. I can hear it in his sounds and utterances. His whole body buzzes like a live wire.


And for a moment I’m brought back to the early days of our relationship, all the way back to that very first blowjob, awkward as it was — in a parked car and me with braces. We had our own Titantic moment that mild November night, but it was my parent’s car and PM’s hand smacked on the window.


Who knew that 25 years after our first fellatio session, we’d be discovering new things about each other and finding new avenues to ecstasy? When I give it thought, I’m speechless. This man that I know so very well still has the capacity to surprise me. And he can still have his breath stolen from his body from my touch. I’m finding that he’s still a mystery, even after all these years. And it excites me to no end.


Until next time, stay kinky 😉

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