As you all know, I have experienced two ruined orgasms, both inadvertent, during the past few days. Specifically, both occurred during early evening, one on Sunday and one on Monday. We managed to avoid it, yesterday.
The first was the result of too much edging, accompanied by me having hit capacity. The very first drop of, what was supposed to be pre-cum, was milky, full semen. It was a very interesting event, since I, to the best of my recollection, had never been to a point where I was oozing actual semen, from the very beginning, I can only assume that I was, indeed, full. The second resulted from far too much teasing, in a short period of time, followed by a slow reaction by NW.
In both of these cases, stimulation was stopped, three to four seconds before the first contraction. In each of these, we both sat and watched intently, as the event unfolded, even as I continued to struggle against it. It had been years since I had experienced a ruined orgasm. And I loved it!
I described it something like…giving life to an orgasm, only to draw back and watch (feel) it die from neglect. It was such an unnatural and mind twisting thing to experience. Unnatural because, an impending orgasm is supposed to be nurtured. It is supposed to be drawn out, fully. It is supposed to be continually fed a diet of physical stimulation, mental and physical anticipation, and mental and physical encouragement, that lead to a wonderous and fulfilling eruption. Instead, in an almost morbid manner, stimulation is withdrawn, anticipation is replaced with loathing and apprehension and what should be encouragement emerges as resistance.
Instead of working things to a natural end, the entire process is sabotaged, but only after its arrival is ensured. And that, unless these are commonplace for you, is just a mindfuck. It is difficult to explain what I felt with the first one. After initially moving to assist it, only to catch myself and pull back, I sat and watched it complete. I felt loss, frustration, a degree of helplessness and a sense of disbelief. Coupled with these, though, were a thrill and a sense of naughtiness. Like I had just watched, and experienced, something special and, in a twisted way, desirable.
With the second one, I made no effort to assist it. I fought it, just as the first, all the way through. Looking back, though, I realize that I was, indeed, assisting it..not to fruition, but to ruin. I felt the physical frustration from it. I felt the mental letdown. But I wanted it to ruin as spectacularly as possible. Part of that was, undoubtedly, from the frustration of going over the edge, unplanned. My cock deserved to suffer this. And that was not NW talking. That was my feeling, in isolation. But, accompanying this, was again the sense of thrill, naughtiness and partaking in the unnatural.
It is, in some ways, the ultimate tease. To be worked up over and over and, finally, granted release. Your body and mind feel you careening towards the glorious orgasm that is about to erupt. I mean, for thirty years, orgasms have always been violent, volcanic and immensely satisfying. Then, right at the pinnacle, with the ultimate pleasure and release at hand, all stimulation is withdrawn and it comes crashing down in ruin. The cock, balls and prostate struggle to push on, to carry it through to its blissful end…but fail. Even as they weakly release a portion of what would otherwise have been a spurting, contracting, writhing burst of ecstasy.
And there it is…ruined. Seeping, pathetically. Arousal flags for a bit. Sensitivity is lost. But there is no fulfillment. At least, not in the sense that a full orgasm gives. The arousal will soon return and at a much higher level than before. Frustration and want are now higher. My balls, literally, ache from the failed release. I have no idea why. Trying to push everything out but failing? Aching, wanting, denied…
I so love this! I can’t wait until the next one.