I had my very first ejaculation when I was 11 years old. I was home alone, naked, standing in the kitchen playing with my dick. I saw the dishwashing liquid on the counter and decided to apply some to my cock. I quickly worked up a good lather and in minutes felt an explosive feeling run through my body. My knees buckled, my squirt hit the kitchen cabinets, and I felt that I had discovered something really wonderful.
That was the initiating event that began what has been a lifelong love affair with masturbation. As a teen, I would lay naked on the couch, my cock greased up with Vaseline, and merrily stroke away. I loved the build-up of tension in my body, the way my muscles contracted and my toes pointed, how my breathing deepened. For me, masturbation was a full-body experience in pleasure. What I quickly discovered, however, was that orgasm brought those feelings to a screeching halt. Blowing my cum load felt great — it was the most intense part of the experience — but immediately after, I lost all interest. In a moment I went from moaning and gasping pleasure to having a belly covered in cum and no interest in sex at all.
It didn’t help that I had buddies who shared my love of dick-play. We’d have contests to see who could cum quickest, who could shoot farthest, who could knock one out on the school bus before it came to the next stop. Everything seemed to be a race in those days, our dicks in a constant state of hurried frenzy. I didn’t want to rush, I wanted to linger.
It took me a bit of time, but I learned that I was the Master of my masturbation. I learned that I could extend those good feelings and delay the ending. By skillful manipulation of the speed, friction, timing of my stroking, I could bring myself right to the very brink of orgasm and then linger there, dangling in pure pleasure. Sometimes I lost the battle and tipped over, spewing spunk all over myself, the bed, or a tree, depending on where I was. But with practice came less cumming and more prolonged sessions of rubbing and moaning. Eventually, I could bring myself to that peak of enjoyment and balance there like a dancer on her toes. I would hang there, then let myself slide back, calm down, then bring it back up again, over and over. I didn’t know what I was doing, didn’t have a name for it, but I was teaching myself how to edge.
Over the years I have explored and experimented with all kinds of sex, but I always came back to masturbation as my favorite sex act. I would still pop off a perfunctory wad if I needed to, but long and lingering masturbation sessions became my favorite. Over the years, access to dirty magazines, the development of the internet, the availability of porn, chat rooms and cam sites all helped fuel my love of edging. I live nude, I sleep nude and when I get up in the morning, my hand immediately wraps neatly around my cock to begin my day. Some days I might only edge for an hour or so. The best days are when I can spend the entire day immersed in porn and stroking, riding that high.
A couple of years ago, I began to wonder what actually happens when I edge? I don’t use any kind of enhancements when I masturbate, by personal choice. I don’t use alcohol or drugs, I stopped using poppers over 30 years ago when I looked at the little bottle one night and said to myself, “What the fuck am I putting into my body?” I don’t use any kind of lube, something I would not recommend to anyone who is not an expert bater. I like the feeling of just being naked and having my hand on my dick without anything on it. Lubes can be messy, get sticky, and can gum up the computer, although a piece of plastic wrap over the keyboard helps with that. It takes finesse to learn just the right technique to keep a boner going all day long without removing half the skin on it in the process, but I’ve mastered it.
So, I did some research on edging to find out what happens to my body during an extended edging session, and I thought I would share it here. I should mention I am not a doctor, not a chemist, not a health professional, so I’m not even going to attempt to try and spell the hormones and chemical interactions that take place. This is Edging 101, just an explanation of what goes on in my body.
There is a whole cocktail of chemicals and hormones that get released during sex. As far as my brain is concerned, it doesn’t matter if I’m fucking wet pussy, getting my cock sucked by an NFL linebacker, or giving myself a handjob in the middle of Times Square. Whatever the act, sexual arousal brings forth this cocktail. When I am edging, that’s the peak, the “high” that I’m feeling — the flood of chemicals and hormones coursing through my brain. It is all Feel Good City along the Pleasure Highway and I don’t ever want to get off.
The pleasure build up is always directed towards the same result — pumping out that manly Kickapoo Joy Juice. Once the fountain, the spurt, or the dribble occurs, Nature has installed a handy shut-off system. The second I cum, my brain is immediately flooded with a new set of hormones and chemicals that act as an exit ramp on the Pleasure Highway. My dick softens and I’m suddenly interested in something else, like the evening news. Or, more often, I am really, really tired. Those “switch off” chemicals serve as a mild sedative which explains why a lot of guys fall asleep after they cum. Many assume it is because of their magnificent sexual prowess and the energy exerted during sex, when in fact it is simply that their brain chemistry has taken away the wind from their sails. It is good information to know if your spouse, partner, trick, or family pet complains that you are an insensitive dolt when you fall asleep after sex. You can explain that you are simply a victim of your own brain chemistry.
So what happens if I keep on delaying that “switching off” by edging? What if I keep right on rolling down that highway for miles and miles and miles without stopping? Well, like anything that feels good, the more we enjoy it, the more we want it. Edging is a huge pleasure for me and has been for most of my life. I couldn’t even begin to calculate the number of hours I have spent gooning over my cock. I don’t want to stop. I’m doing it right now as I’m writing this, pausing every few words to give my dick a little rubbin’ lovin’.
Here’s where the research came up with a few things that were eye-opening about edging. Remember I said that I don’t use alcohol or drugs when I masturbate. Well, it turns out there isn’t a whole lot of difference in what mind-altering chemicals a person uses. If a person smokes, snorts, injects, or inhales, it causes changes in brain chemistry. Same when I edge for hours. And the interesting thing is that my brain can become used to having that flood of chemicals, that feel-good feeling. In other words, it may not be touching my dick or looking at porn that captures my attention — those might be vehicles to feed the desire for the chemical stimulation my brain wants to feel.
I’m being very careful and deliberate about not using the term “addiction.” The reason is that one of the defining aspects of an addiction is a withdrawal symptom that occurs if the agent isn’t available. Like a smoker craving a butt when he can’t light up. I know there have been periods of times when I can’t or have chosen not to masturbate and it didn’t bother me at all. There were no cravings and no mad desire to get my hand down my pants. However, when the opportunity did arise for me to get naked and indulge myself again, the “high” of edging felt even better.
Which brings me to the other revelation I found. In terms of brain chemistry and how the brain works to create pleasure, what once got you high may not work the same as it once did. In other words, even while I am edging I am searching for new ways to stimulate my brain to give me those pleasure feelings. What I discovered is that my circle of porn favorites was beginning to widen. Where once a static image in a magazine was enough to get me off, it evolved into videos, then porn sites, then chat rooms. I found myself starting to explore sex acts that I previously wouldn’t have considered and finding them very arousing. I put it down to aging and maturity and an increased sense of being open to things coupled with a decreased desire to judge. Maybe it isn’t that I’m just turning into a dirty old man. Maybe it’s that my brain is seeking out new adventures and stimulations for my own pleasure. Whatever is going on in my head, I am very happy to have my hand between my legs.
I’d be curious to hear from other edgers about your experience, especially changes you have noticed in what gets you off.
The Jacking Nudist