To The Edge: Not Nutting When You Wanna Nut A Whole Lot
My hips started bucking on their own at some point.
I don’t know man, time is weird right now. There’s no sure anchor points to reality save the constant clap of my balls into the sleeve. I can peer through the TPE rubber to see myself-clear toys are fun like that. My dick? It’s big, red and very angry. The veins along the shaft (specifically, the one that goes almost all the way to my tip) are pulsing pretty obscenely. The last time they got like that, I had a cock ring on.
I’m not wearing one today though. No, this was a planned afternoon. One of several the last few days. I guess I’ve been going at this an hour or so, maybe more. Sweat beads off my brow, my thighs. I didn’t know if today was The Day or not, but I’d still have to clean the sheets. The smell of my own musk starts making a feedback loop. I smell it, I get more turned on, I sweat more. This poor toy. Thank goodness it’s got a shell, or I would have completely blown it out by now.
Then, at the last minute, right as my toes start to curl-I pull out. I toss the toy on the far side of the mattress, too far to reach. My cock is pulsing so hard it’s smacking right against my belly button. It’s slick with lube and pre-cum-and still so very angry. There’s a half-second of soreness from my balls before I sit up.
My hips, they’re still shaking.
I slide my feet over the side of the bed with a groan, my cock smacking against my thigh as I do. I felt completely, utterly exhausted. Even moreso than I do practicing with my punching bag. I stand there, wavering all of a half second before my brain clicks back on. I breathe, my erection giving a final wag before mercifully starting to droop. I turn on my heel, and look at the man-shaped sweat stains on the bed.
Ha. God, if I’d actually came, I might have hit my chin.
I cleaned the sheets, and that night slept like the dead.
Edging is something we all engage in to a degree, be it with awareness (like mine) or not. What’s concerning about the practice is the widespread misunderstandings around it.
Keen Like A Razor
“Edging” is slang for a form of orgasm denial, most often done solo. The phrase comes from the act of going right to the edge of an orgasm, then “pulling back”. Like, imagine you’re really close to busting a fat load, but then don’t. That’s edging.
A few of you reading that are probably thinking “What the fuck? That sounds like it aboslutely sucks man, to hell with that”.
If you can’t achieve orgasm despite trying, I absolutely could understand the frustration. It’s happened to me, it’s happened to many of you reading this. Failure to orgasm is absolutely a normal thing that affects everyone and can be the result of stress, overall health and much more. Edging carries the connotations of that over-but the intent is the inverse. Not orgasming is the source of pleasure or intent.
I imagine a few of you are still regarding this with wide eyes. Let’s break it down a bit more.
Have you ever been like, super horny? You need and want to orgasm as soon as possible? So the moment you get home you rip off your clothes and make that happen? You could swear you’re more sensitive as you touch yourself. When you finally do get to cum, it floods you with relief. You absolutely needed that.
Edging takes this concept and stretches it out. It amplifies it, and keeps the simple joy of touching yourself (or having a partner do it) going. Edging can present itself in a lot of different ways, and doesn’t have to be a solo endeavor. Likewise, you’re the one that sets the limits. If you don’t want to go hours and days like I do, you don’t have to. The choice is ultimately yours to make.
Yet there’s one question that still remains-why on earth would you do this?
All The Fun, None of The Cuts
To some, edging sounds like torture.
You know what? That’s valid. I completely get that. Like many of you, I tend to masturbate before I go to sleep to help me pass out. It’s a “normal” part of my daily routine. Sometimes, I don’t even necessarily care for the pleasure so much as the act. Giving that final sigh as you roll over, cum drying on your thighs? Yep. Been there, done that since puberty. It’s become so ingrained with my daily life that when I don’t, it’s like the “bedtime” switch in my head doesn’t get flipped.
Like many of you again, there’s days I come home from work too tired to care. I pass out where I lay and pray my alarm doesn’t go off. The next day, when I finally do masturbate, it’s a lot more pleasurable. Not just the orgasm, but the sensitivity of my cock. The smack of my balls against my thigh, reminding me how full they are. While I’m certainly no advocate for “no fap”, abstaining from orgasming makes the next time you do sometimes more enjoyable. It’s not a “reset switch” so much as a break from the monotony of life.
I’m not a sex therapist, nor a doctor, nor are my experiences a valid medical opinion. However, I find the benefits of abstention to be very, very real in practice. Not cumming-either by abstaining or edging-has led to some toe curling, mind blanking, drool inducing orgasms. What instigates the circumstances is irrelevant-I nut harder when I keep my hands off myself than when I don’t. It’s one of the few times being a workaholic comes in handy.
Now to say something that’s going to cause some whiplash-edging is abstaining in practice. It’s the most fun you can have abstaining, too.
It’s something every No-Fap November contender already knows. It’s also something I hark on pretty hard here. There’s nothing wrong with not masturbating-but there’s nothing wrong with enjoying your body still either. Edging is the nice middle ground between the two. Regardless of why you’re doing it, edging still counts as abstaining in my book simply because you’re not getting that endorphin dump. Think of it as a marathon as opposed to the “race” of your usual masturbation habits. Rather than running flat out, you’re doing so at a pace that gives you time to enjoy the scenery.
So what if the finish line ends up stickier? You are remembering to wash right?
Despite all this praise, there’s still going to be some who turn their nose up at this based on misinformation. Let’s set the record straight real quick.
You Don’t Actually Know What Blue Balls Are
The top reason I hear from people who don’t want to edge is usually “I’ll get blue balls”. Blue balls have been mythologized up in a patriarchal bent, hyper-consumer media society as this terrible thing that can happen to men if they don’t orgasm. It’s actually super gross and completely wrong.
To start off with, “Blue Balls” doesn’t actually turn your balls blue. Yes, people have asked. What we know as “blue balls” is actually the contraction of the testicles closer to orgasm. When we fail to orgasm, the tight contraction of our testicles (which we rarely notice unless it’s a “hard” orgasm) loosens. Sometimes you feel it, sometimes you don’t. The pain is more like momentary discomfort, and nowhere near as bad as menstrual cramps.
Your balls and dick can take a lot more abuse than one afternoon of edging will ever inflict on them. They’re literally made to expand and contract. Let me remind you you’re not the same size hard and flacid. Don’t believe me? Stick your hand down your pants and get back to me in a half hour.
There’s a similar narrative with alleged loss of sensitivity. I hate to break it to you, but we’re not even sure if circumcision affects sensitivity. An hour of smacking the salami isn’t going to irrevocably break your dick. The same applies to those of you with vaginas. If something does hurt, it’s obviously time to stop, but that likely has much more to do with how and what you’re masturbating with than edging itself.
The last thing I normally hear from people is “I don’t have the time”. As someone who works 50+ hours a week at my real job, this is the one I forgive. Sometimes you don’t have a free afternoon, sometimes you’re simply too tired. But again-edging isn’t something that takes hours. You ultimately set the time limit for how long you go and how intense the session is. For the record, it takes the average adult male five to seven minutes to orgasm. For some, that time is 15 or so minutes. Going half an hour to an hour totally can be a great edging session.
With that out of the way-how does one edge? How do you know your limits?
That’s actually the simplest part of this article.
When you feel like you’re going to orgasm, pull your hand away. Don’t. As your body relaxes (but before you become unaroused), start masturbating again. Cum when you want to, but as you approach the precipice of orgasm, stop. Pull out of your toy, stop the porn you’re watching, and just don’t. Go until you can’t anymore, and have a towel ready. Knowing your limits comes by testing those limits. On a decent day, I can easily go an hour or two edging. When I started, an hour felt like pure insanity.
Until I nut and nearly broke what little sensibilities I have left, but I’ll spare you those details.
Edging is a fun, safe and normal way to achieve a far more intense orgasm. I can’t recommend it enough if you have the time. But for now, I’m pretty exhausted. I need to change the sheets, and pass out.
Take care deviants. I love you all.
-j