“You’re not coming very much,” he said. “Don’t you think you should be coming more while we play this game?” he asked.
He was rubbing her back, and she was making little noises of pleasure.
“Last night was incredible,” he said. “I want to give you as much pleasure as you’re giving me.” He rolled her over, pulled down her panties, nipped his mouth between her legs. She didn’t resist. She spread her legs, enjoyed the attention for a moment.
“We have to get you to five hundred tonight,” she said. He said, “Mmmm,” his face buried in her mound.
“Turn around,” she said.
He complied. In the early days of their marriage, they spent a lot of time in 69. She realized in that moment that she missed it—and wanted him in her mouth. But they were deep into this game now, there was no turning back.
She reached up to take his cock in her hands. His mouth was busy. She would have to count. So she began, teasing his nipples with one hand, stroking with the other. At one hundred and fifty, she realized she could take his balls in her mouth, and his response was instant.
“Oh my god! No! Stop!” She froze. “That’s just evil,” he said. She stopped stroking, but resumed licking his balls and teasing his nipples. “You’re going to make me come!” he cried.
She took mercy. She stopped, and said, “Then eat me, already.”
He went back to work, kissing, licking nibbling. One finger in her, then two. It felt good, then better, then even better, and she couldn’t help but start stroking him again. As she got close, she realized that she was speeding up. She didn’t care at that moment if she made him come. She just wanted them both to explode.
Oh, she was so close. She was just around four hundred when he slid a third finger into her, and she lost it, coming over and over and over in wave after wave after wave. They hung there in that moment, neither of them moving until she pushed him off.
He rolled onto his side, curled up next to her and held her.
“You’ve got one hundred more to go, Mister.” she said.
“I have another story from the internet for you,” he said. “Do you want to internet casino read it, or should I?”
“You read, I’ll stroke,” she said. “We have a long way to go tonight. I want to feel your cock throbbing in my hand.”
That face he got when she talked dirty. She liked that face.
“OK,” he said. “This one is from a Tumblr I liked called Healthy Sexy Marriage. The woman who wrote this blog—she was so nerdy and sweet.” He paused. “I miss Tumblr,” he said.
Then he started reading, and she started stroking.
A month and a half ago, my amazing, sexy husband agreed to three months of constant tease and denial, without release. Since then, almost every night, 7 nights a week (and sometimes in the morning, too!), we work together to make me cum as much as I want, then I edge him intensely, over and over again, to my heart’s content. Sometimes we’re quick – half an hour and off to sleep. Sometimes we linger – time flies when you’re having fun. But the key is that we make time to do it every night, with only a few (very few!) missed nights. I’ve never slept better in my life…
I adore this man. He trusted his most intimate, primal, involuntary reflex to my care – knowing, full well, that I intended to break him. I promised to reduce him to a sweaty, leaky, quivering, begging mess of a man. I warned him that I planned to make it difficult – that I was going to truly challenge him, just to see how much he could handle – to prove, once and for all, that his body could physically endure so much more than his mind ever imagined.
When we started six weeks ago, we had an honest, open conversation about what was about to happen – what we were about to do. We discussed our limits and set a safe word. We agreed that if it ever stopped being fun, for either of us, we would stop. During that conversation, he honestly admitted his doubt about two things:
First, he doubted we would make it this far. He doubted my commitment to denying him. His exact words, “There will be a night when things get so hot, you won’t be able to resist making me cum. I know you. You won’t make it three months, but it’s fun to try.” My reply, “Challenge canlı poker oyna accepted!” And so far, so good. Sooo fucking good! To my husband’s total amazement and slight alarm, I haven’t even ruined him. Yet…
Second, he doubted I could truly break him. Break his mind, that is (not his body! I need that!). When I promised to send him into the deepest, darkest, most desperate, mind-scrambling frenzy of lust he’s ever experienced, he honestly doubted that such a mindspace existed. He knows how it feels to be relentlessly edged, teased and denied for days at a time. He knows the beautiful frustration of being milked and ruined, over and over again. He’s begged – literally begged – for orgasm before, and heard me say “No.” He’s been there. He survived those things without ever truly losing his mind, and he figured this would “just” be more of the same. Three months of intense fun, but nothing truly new.
And… to be honest… I wondered if he might be right. His doubt motivated me to find out. It made me edge him harder. It made me stop and let go, every time my instinct screamed at me “He’s a man!! Make him cum!!” It’s why I insist on playtime every night, no matter what’s happening in our daily lives or how tired I feel. I wanted to know… to genuinely know… could I break him? Is it even possible?
Last night, I’m proud to say, I finally… carefully… definitely broke him!
After six weeks of daily edging, teasing, and denial, we started off “routinely” enough. We played and cuddled to warm up, then I tied his wrists to the headboard of our bed. He is hypersensitive and leaking almost constantly now, so I mounted him very slowly and carefully, avoiding any motion that might resemble a thrust. We kissed, and I took my time, just enjoying the sensation of him throbbing inside me. Eventually I got my favorite toy and vibed myself to glorious climax on his denied cock. A perfect start.
I retired to languish at his side in a blissfully relaxed haze, alternately vibing, tickling, and stroking his cock through a string of easy edges. Easy for me, that is… My head resting on his chest, my hair poker oyna spilling over his body, my leg hooked with his… It was so serene, I almost fell asleep.
I didn’t even notice the time. I didn’t even notice when an hour slipped by. And then two hours. I was in a warm, post-orgasmic trance… perfectly comfortable… watching his beautiful, raging cock strain so sweetly in my hands… lost in my own little world of loving him… It was just so easy. And, as nonsensical and silly as it sounds, I loved him for it. I loved that he found me so beautiful, so irresistible, that he couldn’t stop himself from edging for me. It made me feel like the most amazing woman in the world.
So I almost didn’t notice when his grunts faded, and the quivers started. He startled me with a raspy, crackling whisper, “Baby, please… Pleeease!…”
It was the most earnest plea I’d ever heard in my life. Something in his tone, beyond the words alone… a moment purely between us, when all facades crumble. He was breaking. Finally breaking. This is how it starts…
I immediately perked up. I needed to see his face, to confirm it for myself. Yup… he was gone. His eyes were open, but there was no mind behind them. His lips were moving, but only a few airy words slipped out. A lot of “please” and “fuck” and sometimes my name, over and over again. My heart swelled with happiness for him. I didn’t say a word – I didn’t want to interrupt his journey. I just kept lightly gliding my fingers along his cock… carefully, invisibly guiding him through space… knowing that he needed me… that he could never do this to himself. Weeks of hard work (for both of us!) was finally paying off…
No way I was going to let this moment end any time soon. I completely forgot how tired I was, or how late it was. I kept going… carefully… lightly… soft touches ONLY – because just one firm, hard stroke probably would have ended it. At one point, when he was sweating, quivering, and babbling, I offered him a chance. I whispered, “Remember, we have a safe word.” That’s the only time I “broke character.” I’m sure he heard me; I’m sure he understood. He didn’t say anything, though. He just kept begging, “Please… please…”
He wanted to stay. So I made him stay.
He wanted to be broken. So I broke him.
He said it was the best night of his life. I believe it. And we have another six weeks to go…