Sex. eStim and the hands-free orgasm. 01-04-16

January is a time for new beginnings – for going through closets and figuring out what you haven’t worn in a year, checking it for holes and frays, and packing it off to charity. Its a time for going through cupboards and a time for tidying up and starting fresh.

Sometimes, during the work of looking through drawers, boxes and bins, the match to that pesky pair of neoprene gloves with the delightfully grippy texture show up somewhere in the house, COMPLETELY unrelated to where it should be and where its mate has been sitting, patiently waiting for its partner to be found.

…and sometimes, deep in bins, where the fun and special toys are kept, “delights” sit in dusty boxes, unused because the first time they were opened, the user was afraid of the knobs. The user was afraid of the wires and the little screen with the weird terms. The user was afraid of the buttons that made things change on the screen but didn’t appear to control anything.

Time passed, and the “delights” sat and bided their time.

Then today, while cleaning, the “delights” were re-discovered.

During their time in storage, friends who already own their own “delights” frequented locked work-rooms, clad in neoprene and spandex, and well-earned sweat and long drips of pre-cum. Knobs were fiddled. Buttons pushed. Sighs and screams and giggles elicited by the controls of delightful boxes powered with batteries and connected with wires.

Familiarity came and learning happened.

Then discovery happened today. The plastic case opened. The device with simplified controls that did the same thing were paired with the more complicated device. A third device was discovered while unboxing and dusting and cleaning.

Wires connected. Mini tourniquets held wires in place.

The switch was turned.

First, a tingle, rhythmic and simple, pulsed from a ring connected to a wire. The ring wrapped tightly around the base of the dick. The balls were having none of this nonsense and tried to draw up close against the body, as balls often want to do when sensing dangers. Electricity is a danger and the balls did what balls do. Their lack of cooperation was acknowledged and the task taken in hand to fight instinct and let curiosity rule.

The ring was placed and wires attached. Then the second ring at the base of the dick. the second ring was smaller, and the idea of future stimulation excited and aroused and made it hard to place the second ring, but with determination and much wiggling, on went the second ring. Then two electrode pads were placed on the top side and bottom side of the dick and the mini-tourniquet applied just tightly enough to secure the pads.

Buttons were pressed, and dials turned slowly, oh so slowly, because the dance on the fine line between pleasure and pain is a very delicate dance. – a very graceless dance if the knob is turned a degree too far too soon and stinging pain races through tender and sensitive nerve endings.

The program begins. Visuals provided by porn DVDs dredged up from the dust of forgotten drawers and loaded gingerly into USB driven DVD drives. The program cycles through its pathways, sending twitches and jerks and spasms and occasional intensity just on the edge of bearable.

The precum flows freely and must be wiped away, because the electrodes love moisture. They love it too much and will sizzle and snap if too much is held within temptation’s reach.

Waves of pleasure begin and rise and fall and rise and the breath quickens and sharpens and focuses into fine needle-sharp points.

The orgasm explodes.

…and rolls.

…and rolls

…and peaks.

…and begins to subside.

…and increases unexpectedly and for much longer than thought possible.

…and begins to subside.

…and breath returns.

…a hand-towel is groped for and brought to use while knobs set now too intense to bear are quickly and methodically switched off.

…and breathing returns bringing languor as its companion and its new friend, amazement.

Discoveries are wiped and cleaned and re-boxed and put away.

But closer. Much closer than where they used to live.

Because pleasure must be kept close at hand for when its needed.

…and even closer for when pleasure is required to be hands-free.

About gojohnego

Avid foodie and kitchen tinkerer, artist, news junky and political wonk, musician, blogger, naturist, dog-daddy, and owner of a kinky play-space. ...and did I mention I'm single ;)
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