This account of a very special occasion turned out to be longer than I intended, but I wanted to include some background detail that would paint the full picture. Everything you read here is true. Apologies in advance for the length.
It's been only a few hours but I'm still feeling a glow from the utter euphoria that I bathed in earlier today. Starting just after 2 a.m. this morning, I began a journey that ended up duplicating what I experienced just once before in my twenty-plus years of almost daily edging. Here's how it happened.
I spent my customary half hour or so yesterday afternoon reading a selection of ST stories, one of which almost left me panting. I then switched to a favorite porn site and took in the sights and sounds of some male-male action that can only be described as flaming hot! The well-crafted video displayed every conceivable body part and position that, for the two participants, appeared to fulfill their deepest desires. As for me, sitting in my blue low-cut briefs, I couldn't help but notice a rather large wet spot - front and center. Visualizing anything erotic always get my Cowpers gland fired up.
My wife and I enjoyed a pleasant dinner hour together [I had barbecued some beautiful, thick lamb chops that were marinating all day], topped off with a healthy slice of tiramisu for dessert. After watching the latest local and national news I decided to turn in a bit earlier than usual. I fell asleep fantasizing about one of the ST stories I'd read earlier in the day.
Typically, all the sleep I need is about six hours so I wasn't all that surprised to find myself fully awake at 2:00 a.m. I felt refreshed. I also felt that pleasantly nagging sensation at the base of my penis that I've felt thousands of times, another non-surprise since my cock seems to be as much of a creature of habit as my golden doodle. So, I got up and took a couple of Viagra tabs, shed my briefs, inserted one of my favorite toys [the aneros], and picked out two cock rings. Back in bed, I slowly fondled my not-quite flaccid penis with one hand and, with the other, made my way around each of the nearby erogenous zones - softly caressing my scrotum, perineum, inner thighs, and even my nipples. After several minutes I felt the metabolizing effect of the Viagra - chewing the tablets makes a difference, of course. Alternating between massaging my cock and gently kneading the loose skin around the frenulum with my thumb and forefinger, I could feel the arousal building. It didn't take more than a minute or two and my shaft had inflated to an almost six-inch erection. There are lots of things I love about self-pleasuring . . . the feeling of growing hard is one of them. To me, it's an incredibly sensual awakening, a feeling of coming alive and a stirring to action. Somehow it seems a little different each time, and definitely terrific every time. I don't get quite the rock-hard erection that I had as a teen, but with the help of Viagra, a cock ring or two, plus the aneros, I'm about 90 percent there. So, at my age [78], no complaints!
With my cock now at full mast I liberally applied my favorite lube, Astroglide, and continued with a slow, steady stroke. I soon felt a small stream of precum moving up through my urethra. As it dripped out I'd rub it over and around my glans and up and down the frenulum, creating even more intense pleasure. It wasn't long and I sensed I was nearing the edge. I kept going but, feeling that warm, tingling sensation beginning to build I knew I had to back off a little, or risk hitting the PONR. As usual, I felt several small orgasms, and what seemed to be a few drops of semen pushing out. I continued for another 10 or 15 seconds until I was nearly at the edge again. Glancing over at the LED-lit clock on my night-stand I could see it wasn't yet 2:30 I changed my position slightly, lying more on my side, and resumed my slow-motion stroking using my preferred back-hand technique. Using the full length of my right hand and wrist I slowly massaged my perineum, scrotum, balls and shaft, enjoying the sensations that each movement produced. At the same time I used my left hand to lazily wander over my chest and nipples. For the next few hours I enjoyed an uninterrupted edging session and, as highly aroused as I was feeling, I decided to challenge myself to see how long I could play the edge. Given my typical - but not perfect - record of self-control and an ability to maintain focus, I had a hunch that, this time, I might be able to break my own 'distance record.' I knew that my standard edging time was three hours, give or take, but I wasn't going to let that restrain my efforts.
All the conditions were perfect. I felt fully alert, I had lots of time, the house was quiet, and I had nothing on my mind to worry about. It was a quiet, peaceful morning, and my long-time wife and friend was sleeping only a few feet away. Every so often I'd glance at the clock, and each time it seemed as if the previous 20 or 30 minutes had vanished in an instant. Stroking, massaging, switching hand positions, changing speed . . . I had the feeling much of the time that I was surfing - just like when I was a kid in southern California - except now I was riding the crest of one wave of intense arousal, backing away and then heading out to another wave as it built, and built, and . . . just before breaking I'd quickly steer myself back to calmer waters. And so it went. Time passed and I was lost in sweet ecstasy.
As much as I concentrate on controlling my state of arousal and 'watching' how close I am to the PONR, there's a part of my
consciousness that's also holding a mental picture of whatever fantasy I'd like to see myself in. Over the years, from a wide assortment of videos and probably a thousand or more ST stories, I have several more-or-less favorite fantasies that I enjoy playing out. Given the power of mind over matter, my fantasizing definitely plays a part in being able to maintain a high state of arousal.
From the moment I had first gotten within a stroke or two of going over the edge, I repeated my cock-teasing well over a hundred times as the early morning hours rolled by. It could have been over 150 times, I really don't know. Each time I felt a few mini-orgasms, and each time I could feel a bit more of that precum stream finding its way out of my shaft's exit hole. It was like sweet torture! Now and then I'd add a bit more Astroglide, but with some precum mixing in I had more than an ample supply of lubrication. In recent years my Cowpers gland hasn't been producing as much as it used to but, on this particular morning, it felt as though the faucet was wide open and the tiny stream kept flowing, non-stop. The stars were in alignment, for sure . . . the moment by moment high-intensity sensations of sexual arousal transported me to endorphin heaven! That's the only way I can describe it.
Somewhere around 5 a.m. I noticed a slight softening in my shaft, a signal that I was ready for a Viagra booster. So, after chewing another tablet and taking a half-glass of water, I resumed playing and, viola, the desired effect came within minutes. At about the same time I noticed a bit of discomfort at the base of my shaft, so I removed the tighter of my two cock rings; both are made of a silicone compound, but one has less pliability than the other.
As focused as I had to be, minute by minute and hour by hour, I was often lost in what I can only describe as being in an altered state of consciousness, surfacing now and again to discover that my body was shaking ever so slightly and that I was taking short, quick breaths. Sometimes I had the strong urge to moan, but I had the presence of mind to know that I had to minimize 'noise.' My loving wife supports - even encourages - my early morning playtime activity, but she also values her sleep
I don't recall when I last glanced at the clock but the next time I opened my eyes I noticed it was getting light outside. About a half hour later, I could sense that my wife had slipped out of bed and left the room. She would know, of course, that I was deep into a play session and wouldn't want to bother me.
Finally, taking another quick look at the clock, the time was just past 8:15. I could hardly believe it. Six hours had elapsed since I began my edging 'session.' I had been so, so close to going over the edge uncontrollably more times than I could count. Soon after I started edging 25 years ago, I became convinced that that my edging journey was vastly more satisfying than the destination, more so with the passage of time, in fact. But as my refractory period has lengthened over the years, I far prefer the joy of day-by-day edging, along with feeling horny throughout the day - allowing myself a pleasurable climactic release only occasionally. [Orgasm control and denial does have its limits!]
As I lay there contemplating what I'd experienced this morning, I felt exhilarated and exhausted at the same time. Six hours of intense edging pleasure. Six hours of extraordinary focus. Six hours of dancing on a high wire. I'd accomplished this pleasure marathon only once before, about 12 years ago, and can't believe my great good fortune in having another successful shot at it! Even if I never get to do it again, I've had one fantastic memory-making morning.
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