I didn’t participate in it, but Denial December is partly responsible for the fact that it’s been 78 days since I was last allowed to cum. He likes to scroll through my tumblr dashboard while I’m sucking his cock, and all the posts about it caught his eye back in November, and here we are.
78 days. I find that hard to believe even though I’ve lived through it. I’d often fantasized about orgasm control, but I never imagined that it would ever really happen to me. Even with him, I never imagined he’d actually keep me denied for so long.
I wake up some mornings already feeling this aroused. Like I’ve spent the night edging and backing off countless times in my dreams, so that when I wake up, the arousal is raw and immediate. I spend those days in a haze of horniness and frustration.
It’s maddening at times. On the one hand, I’d really really like to cum. It’s getting more difficult each time I have to stop myself on the edge. In those moments when I’m most frustrated because I’ve reluctantly forced myself to pull my hand away from my clit, the frustration is tinged with… irritation? Slight anger? If I were a cartoon character, I imagine I’d be stomping my feet about the unfairness of it all, that I can’t do something that’s so simple, so easy, so personal.
But when he asked me if I wanted to beg for permission to cum, I didn’t know what to say. I’m beginning to savor being denied. The frustration pushes my mind to a filthier place than I could go on my own. The desperation makes me more pliable. The unrelenting arousal quiets my thoughts. I think this is a good place to be, and it’s familiar now.
Plus he’s been tossing out ideas on how I might finally get to cum, and the options he’s toying with may be worse than not being allowed to cum at all…
Sounds like any orgasm might be worse than not being allowed to cum at all. 😉
