This post contains personal views on a form of light sexual domination and orgasm control play, and includes references to vulnerability. For some people, this may be distasteful or uncomfortable. If you think this might be you, please don’t read this.
As with anything I write about myself, all activities I speak of below are only ever performed with the full consent of my partner.
Tedious Work Whinge
Yes, the world’s least prolific sex blogger returns today! I’d like to update this blog more often; alas, the dreaded day job and the woeful disorganisation of my boss leads me to spend my days overworked, underpaid and desperately relieving the pent-up tension with stress-wanking.
Today, however… the inbox is empty, my phone is quiet, and I woke up rather horny. So, I’m going to attempt to get back on the horse, as it were, and write about one of my favourite things.
I like my partner to look into my eyes when I make them come.
I’m not entirely sure why, so you can consider this post as musings on the matter rather than a sexy story or encounter.
The natural inclination for many when we’re about to reach orgasm is to close our eyes and focus the attention on the pleasure we’re experiencing. What starts as a tingle develops into a pulse. The sensation grows more urgent as we reach that peak that’s unbolting a blissful rush of energy that emanates from our genitals and almost violently flows across our body.
It’s no wonder we just want to lie back and focus entirely on what we’re feeling. How could you do anything else? Even my brief little description of an orgasm doesn’t do it justice, nor does it capture the post-orgasmic haze as our mind takes a few moments to collect itself and lets us breathe normally again.
I’ve played a lot with orgasm control, orgasm denial, ruined orgasms, post-orgasm torture, edging, etc. A part of me enjoys messing with people, playfully and consensually, of course, when they’re at their most vulnerable—and we are vulnerable when we orgasm.
The Psychology of Orgasm
An orgasm messes with our brain for a moment. You can always tell when a woman is faking it during a skin flick if she’s able to complete a coherent sentence. The most we’re capable of is a curt expression of joy—an “oh fuck” or similar expletive. I’m sure there are outliers, but most of us couldn’t spiel off a paragraph of near-perfect English while our cunts are in overdrive.
I’m not going to blow anybody’s mind by pointing out that we’re more suggestible when we’re close to orgasm. Every inch closer to heaven is an inch away from rationality.
It’s the same reason we grab onto things so hard our knuckles turn white. It’s why we shut our eyes, tip our heads back, why we momentarily lose some of our other senses. Our minds lose themselves in one of the most powerful sensations our body can experience, and for that brief moment, we’re not functioning as well as we might.
Focus On Me, Not Yourself
Perhaps that’s why I like to hold somebody’s head and make them look into my eyes when I get them off? It’s a sense of orgasm control, unlike the typical edging or ruined or denied. In a way, it’s more overt, even vulgar—their orgasm is a gift from me, and I could take it away by just stopping. And I will stop, if they take their eyes off me, look away, or lose focus. All that pleasure, desire and urgency that has accrued over time will dissipate in seconds if they don’t give their focus to me.
Because as I’m doing it, I’m taking the orgasm that belongs to them, and I’m making it about me. They can’t just focus on their own pleasure, they have to focus on me. They have to look at my face, see the slightly devious glint in my eye, the smile on my lips. I want them to see me, to remember me, to think about me when they experience such bliss in the future.
I fucking love to see the expression on their face as they’re forced to keep their focus on me, rather than allowing themselves to simply let go. Often, to do that, they can’t speak—what little bandwidth their brain has left to process non-orgasmic matters is entirely driven towards me. Their mouths just hang open as they breathe heavily, and I do like another’s warm breath on my neck and tits.
The vulnerability manifests in their eyes. It’s not fear I’m seeing, but it’s something approaching that. Wide-eyed, mouth open, they look at me, quivering and shaking, and in a way unsure of themselves. And perhaps because of all this extra focus, because of all the added things I’m demanding they do, when they finally come—and it often requires a little extra effort—their body gyrates, and spasms, and wriggles around like never before.
Just knowing that I’m the one who has done that for them, that I have brought them such pleasure, and that I’m the one they were looking at when it happened makes me so fucking wet.