He had been sliding in and out of her for several minutes, when he realized that to continue doing so would push him over the edge.
“Then stop. Pull out.”
“Yeah,” and he did, crawling his way down her body like a scaffolding of grace. The visual stimulation of admiring her body as he descended was almost in itself too much. Between her lips, which he had been kissing as they made love, and her nether labia to which he would soon resume his kissing, was so much that he adored. Passing on her breasts, her abdomen, her pelvis, he arrived at his new venue.
This was how they made love. She permitted him penetration. In fact, she preferred it… with the exception that he not climax while they made love. That much she preferred. She liked him to abstain. If the first hill of a roller coaster exudes the greatest exhilaration with apprehension, than the rest of the ride was just a downhill coast that to her doesn’t compare to the climb. It was her preference that he just keep climbing, then. She enjoyed him that way the most. So when he was close, he would pull out, and then, so as to not deprive her of all that she enjoyed, he would continue with oral affections. This was to not get too excited and derail his coaster and spoil her fun. This, he too enjoyed. Very much. And he savored her flavors like creme brûlée; a blending of burnt vanilla, lavender, and amaretto, all so intoxicating. Unfortunately, he enjoyed this endeavor so much, it rarely helped him to calm down his pulsating erection enough to be sure he could put it to good use without raining on her parade, so once there, at her lapping pool, he stayed until she herself was right on edge, the precipice of her eruptions. “Fuck me,” pulling at his hair. She liked best to come filled with her lover from the inside, and so near to passion’s pains, she rarely spoke with grace.
And if descending her scaffolding was arousing, climbing it was four-fold, as back again he was to kiss her mouth full and deep, lining his sex up again with hers. Pushing himself into her was fluent, as sopping as she was, soused in a parfait of saliva and sex. He prayed she was as close as she claimed, and thrust with all his might… hoping to shake her foundations to crumble before his… and much to his relief she came first, clutching and grasping as her body at once sought to throw him off and keep him on all at the same time.
He was grateful she came first, but he was now dangerously close himself… having left himself so teetering the first time, he was still not far from the edge. He climbed again back down to safety, where he could gently sooth her swollen labia with the soft caress of his loving tongue. She loved this, and cooed softly while he tended to her soreness, easing her painful joys as they subsided. In time, her body relaxed, and she wanted to just bask in her afterglows.
After laying together for a time, her lulls melting away, she reached for the ice. That means she had made her decision about him already. Today was not one of those days. Today he would have to wait for another day. Her hand returned with the icepack, necessary to relax the swelling that pressed his penis taught with excitement. At first the ice feels stimulating, threatening to undo all his restraint, but in time it always does its magic, and his body relaxes limp and chilled. Now she must move quickly. The mere act of sliding the chastity device onto his sex was enough to get the bloods flowing again, rising the tide far to high to bring the ship into port, but she was practiced, and the device was on, with its securing ring around the base of his balls. He was in chastity again until she would call upon him later. It might be later tonight if she were to rekindle, or maybe tomorrow. Click. That is the lock which holds him bound, the key she wears on a bracelet. She kissed him gently on the lips, for she loved him so, and snuggled into his chest for a long night’s slumber.
Wonderfully mercilessly edging.
"Good morning Sunshine."
…Locking him in chastity was the best thing for me…