Communicating our intimate desires and curiosities can feel scary, especially when they deviate from our perception of what our world at large considers acceptable or “normal”.
Telling someone that we want to explore something new and outlying is an act that requires us to expose our most vulnerable thoughts and emotions, and it brings us face to face with the risk of judgment and disappointment.
The fear of rejection becomes a specter from which we can’t decouple. An orb of anxiety floats around the peripheral and gets in the way.
It feeds off the soup of our subconscious and all the noise that’s part of us: things our parents said during ‘the talk’, cultural expectations, social stigma, religion.
At some point, we reach an impasse and find ourselves caught in the loop of overanalyzing who we are versus who we think we ought to be. (Versus who we think we want to be.) And it’s not uncommon for other insecurities to come out of the woodwork and pile on, further adding to the fray.
This is where edging comes into play.
One of the things I love most about slowly, sensually tending to a man’s body is how it allows him to feel comfortable openly communicating what he wants. It allows him to turn off overthink, breathe into pleasure, and relinquish insecurity of desire and body.
My finely tuned senses are focused on him. On the rhythm of his chest, the look on his face, the way he writhes. The sharp intake of breath through clenched teeth. His curled toes and goosebumps.
I am guided by the subtle cues as well as the engorged, and my intuition is deep.
And during these hours of ministry, I encourage him to tell me what feels best. (A little sexual A/B testing, if you will.)
I ask him to augment what I observe, feel, and know (deep intuition) by telling me which tempo he prefers. Which view. Which sensation. And, of course, I want him to tell me when he’s near so we may ebb versus flow. I can always tell when he is, but I love hearing those two little words: I’m close.
This type of dirty talk gives him the power to voice his desires. And by responding to his words with joyous arousal—by demonstrating the degree to which he turns me on—I vanquish that ghost of apprehension.
My genuine lust—the way I listen, then take great pleasure in tripping his triggers one by one by one—proves that his wants are valid and that his body is desired.
The feedback I’ve received is that this is a deeply impactful and empowering gift that remains long after the dreamlike trance ends. Tingling, it lives on in the corporal memory, and it positively impacts other areas of daily life.
The art of edging is as much about a flow of words and shared consciousness as it is about an exchange of ideas. I may appear to be “in control” of a man’s body, but in truth, we’re partners.
