We start the contest once again. You resist—It’s my goal to bring you pleasure.

Your cock is as hard as steel as I stroke you, yet you will not release.

It is your will against my touch—I have the advantage.

In your mind, you think of math, calculating the tables of baseball and statistics. 

You think of things to distract from the touch of my palm.

How long can you resist my ultimate argument?

I coat you with saliva to lubricate your burning skin.

My grip shifts from silky soft to tight as a vice while I pump you.

From the root of your manhood, rotating around the head.

You moan as I slowly win you over—I can see your balls tighten.

Your shaft hardens even more. The veins throb in stark relief.

Ever so slightly, your hips move to my stroking hand.

Groaning, you still think hard—cars, work, and chores to do.

Even thinking about your darkest fears.

You bite your lip, almost drawing blood, fighting to the last.

I release you, your erection twitching in the cool air.

I wait patiently for the edge to wane.

My game is not over—it’s the edge I want you on.

I take your cock down my throat, coating it in spit.

You gasp from the warmth and then from my grip.

It is time to bring you to the edge once more.