Edging Marathon Stories Live

of your seat literally on today's show. Imagine edging for over two hours while tied to a chair, every vibration from the toy bringing you closer, but it's a single whisper word that shatters you. Resolve a solo session that stretches into the night, lasting three agonigazing hours, intil an unexpected memory, floods in and bricks the damp, and a public dair with a partner watching via video holding out for ninety minutes, and a teasing text only to crumble

when a stranger's glance hits just right. Stick around because we're unpacking these and so so much more so, my dear listeners. Today's question is all about edging. What's the longest you've ever edged? What's the one thing that finally made you lose control? I want to hear your stories. Keep them detailed and very raw, of course, and are open ended chat. How does the build up of edging change your fantasy's mid session? What unexpected thoughts creep in

when you're right on that edge? Share your experiences with me here live in the chat, or you can always email me at dear Nikki dot com on the Confession stab or Perriett DM me over here on Discord, or you can email me at Nikki and Ikky at Dearniki dot com. And I can't wait to feature them on future episodes. And before we dive into those fool stories, here's a riddle to keep your mind occupied. I'll reveal the answer as always at the end of the show.

What's long and hard it gets shoved in, tight, makes you moan when it's pulled out, and leaves you satisfied and dripping. Think really close on that one, and again the answer will be at the end of the show. You know what time it is. It's time to sit back, relax. Let's have a whiskey with some filthy cherries, of course, and explore some erotic fantasies from people just like you and me. Dear Nikki, I need to confess something that's film makes my cheeks burn and my pulse race just

thinking about it. I've always craved the sharp, exquisite edge of denial, the way it turns every nerve into fire, the way it strips away control, and I'm nothing but need. But last weekend I went further than ever thought my body could handle. And what finally shattered me was in pain or over stimulation. It was her voice calling me

good boy. It started innocently enough, or as innocent as these things ever get between us, A playful bent over the dinner, she edged me for as long as I could stand, no release aloud, until I literally begged for mercy. I laughed and said I'd last for hours. She just smiled that slow, knowing smile and told me to strip. We moved to the bedroom, soft leather coughs around my wrist and ankle, securing me. Spread eagle to the bed.

A vibrating pug nestled deep inside to set the maddening below, constant buzz that never quite built, but it never let me forget it was there. Blindfold optional, I chose to keep my eyes open so I could watch her. She started slow, featherlight touches with actual feathers along my inner thighs, the soles that stole my feet, the scensitive skin under my arms, the nice cubes trailing melting paths across my chest, my nibbles down my stomach, circling but never quite touching

where I ate most. The contrast of cold and the steady internal hum had me gasping within minutes. Thirty minutes in, I was already straining hips, lifting uselessly against nothing. An hour passed and I was drenched in sweat, muscles quivering, every breath shallow until de liberate as I tried to focus on the ceiling, van on counting backwards, on anything except the throbbing, desperate pressure building between my legs. At the ninety minute mark, I started whimpering, small, broken words,

sounds I couldn't hold back. She kissed my forehead, whispered how beautiful I look like this? So racked and still fighting, That only made it worse. Two hours, two hours of relentless teasing, denial. My whole body felt like one exposed nerve. The plug's vibrations seemed louder in my ears than my own heart beat. I was trembling so hard, the cuffs creaked against the headboard. I kept whispering, not yet, not yet, through clinched teeth, determined to win the bet, as tears

pricked my eyes from the intensity. And then she broke me with four simple words. She leaned down, her lips, brushing the shell of my ear, her breath hot and steady against my skin. Good boy, that's all. It took, No extra touch, no sudden increase of vibration, just those two little words in her soft, proud voice. My entire body seized. I arched so hard the restraints bitten to my wrist. The raw guttural sound tore out of me as I came harder than I ever had in my life.

Wave after shattering wave whimpered through me without any direct contact. It fell endless, like my orgasm had been coiled for hours, and finally snapped free all at once. I think I blacked out for a second, floating in the white, hot pleasure. When I came back to myself, she was stroking my hair, murmuring praise while she gently removed the plug and uncuffed me.

I was shaking over, sensitive, completely spent, and I've never felt more owned, more seen more hers I lost the bet spectac early, but honestly, I don't think I've ever won so completely. I still get hard just remembering her saying good boy, two words that ruined me in the best possible way. Do you think I'm hopeless for wanting to chase the edge again? Already You're in delicious shame, your devoted edge boy. Well, hello, David Nicer, you show up.

I couldn't any wanna. It was in good rhythm, in more wisdom, woe? How are you tonight? This is where you can type to me and say, I, I'm wondering with this story? What made you know with with him? What made good boy the trigger word for you? Was it the way she said it or what? Sometimes when somebody is whispering in your ear, it doesn't really matter what they say. It could be how they say it. Somebody, I mean, somebody come once just by saying cucumber. I

have no idea why, hmm to bad. They're not around for me to ask, right. Have you ever had a non physical cue snap you control, one that makes you horny or just come really hard? I really want to know, dear Nikki. I have to tell you before my memory fades anymore, It's still so vivid. It makes my skin tingle and my throat tight. Sellow edging has always been my secret reset button, the one thing that reliably melts

the day's stress into something hot and manageable. But that night I turn it into something else, entirely, a marathon, a test, maybe even quiet kind of reckoning. I set the scene just right, dim lights, glowing soft amber from the bedside lamp, my favorite slow burned playlist, humming low through the speakers, those deep bass lines that vibrate right through the mattress, a fresh bottle of lube warming in my palm, my go to sleeve toy, slick and waiting,

plus a small vibrating ring. Sometimes I forget I own until the mood hits. I started easy, teasing myself with lazy strokes, letting the bill to creep in like slow rising heat, pause right at the brink, breathe, count to ten, and start again. Classic. An hour slipped by, almost without me noticing. I was deep in that floaty haze head space where time dissolves and everything narrows to a sensation's slit guide the tightening coil low in my belly, the

way my thigh's tints and release. Phantasies drifted through my mind like smoke, strangers, hands, forbidden scenarios, rougher edges I never quite chased in her life. My breathing sinked with the music, slow and deliberate. Two hours in. My legs were trembling uncontrollably. Every edge hit harder, sharper, like walking a tight rope, higher and higher. My whole body felt electric, over sensitive, even in the brush of sheets against my

skin was almost too much. I kept stopping, gripping the bass, whispering not yet to myself like a mantra. Sweat beaded on my chest, my hair stuck to my forehead. I was so close to breaking a dozen times, but I pushed through, chasing that impossible high of holding on longer. Three hours, three full hours of relentless, self inflicted denial. My mind was foggy, thoughts fragmenting. My hand moved on the autopilot, now slower, more careful, because any speed would

end it instantly. I was shaking, aching, begging myself to silently stop, but I couldn't, wouldn't, And then out of nowhere, a memory crashed in her laugh. My axes, laugh sobed, teasing, a little mocking in that way that always made my stomach flip. I could hear it so clearly. She was right there in the room, leaving on to my shoulder, watching me struggle and finding it endlessly amusing, still holding out. Huh.

I imagine her saying, voice low and playful. That sound unlocked something, a rush of old longing, regret, affection, frustration, all tangled up emotions I thought I'd neatly filed away years ago. It hit like a damn break. I couldn't stop it. One more stroke, maybe two, and I was gone. The orgasm tore through me in a violent, shuddering rust, stronger and longer than anything I'd felt in months. My back art off the bed, toes curling, a choked sound

ripping out of my throat. Wave after wave kept coming, leaving me gasping, trembling, tears prickling at the corner of my eyes. Not from pain, from the sudden, overwhelming flood of feeling relief, yes, but also raw, bittersweet ache for something else. When it finally ebbed, I just lay there, sticky and spent, staring at the ceiling while my heart beat hammered in my ears. The playlist had looped back to the first song. The room smelled like lube and

sweat and something faintly of nostalgia. I felt lighter somehow, but also strangely emotional, like I'd accidentally unlocked a door I didn't know was there. Solo sessions are supposed to be simple stress relief. That night prove there never really, just that. I haven't edged since without hearing that laugh flicker through my head at least once. It makes me wonder if I'll ever manage another three hour run, or if part of me doesn't want to because of breaking

was so perfect? Do you ever get ambushed by old memories like that during your own sessions? Or am I the only one who turns self pleasure into accidental therapy? Still catching my breath your marathon edge? Mess? Are you there? David? Oh? We have another one? Hello? Cassie? Oh we did Hello? Yeah?

Mine is good girl. When I think of that, when I go back to my edging or masturbation fantasies, it's there's something about just you know, and I can hear his voice Claire's day, and it's one of those Typically, if I'm not two wound and frustrated. I can flip too if I want to come and I do hear his voice? Yeah, what about you? Is there anything in past memory, very past, or even recently that bring up

unexpected things for you? I'd really like to hear it, dear NICKI, my partner nor I have always gotten off on pushing boundaries, especially when the risk is involved, the thrill of almost getting caught the sheep, the secret shared between us while the world goes on oblivious. It's intoxicating. So when we decided to take Edging public, it felt

like the natural flat next level. We picked a Friday night out dinner and our favorite dimly lit Italian place, then a leisurely walk through the crowd park down town where everyone spills out after dark. I wore a sleek, remote controlled vibe tucks securely inside the kind with the strong silent motors and an app that lets them control every pulse pattern an intensity from their phone. No visibolge, no tail tale buzz audible over the conversation, just pure

hidden torment. They started gentle during appetizers, low teasing rumbles that made me shift in my seat, and for smiles while ordering by the time our manes arrived, they were ramping it up at unpredictable intervals, short bursts that had me gripping the edge of the table, thighs clenched, pretending to be fascinated by the wine list. I could feel the heat building, the ache spreading, but I kept my voice steady, laughing at their jokes, nodding through small talk

like nothing was happening. Ninety minutes in total, ninety minutes of constant, secret edging while surrounded by strangers. The park walk was real test, crowds milling around under the string lights, people brushing past, music drifting from somewhere. Every time the vibe kicked up, I'd freeze midstep, bite the inside of my cheek, force my hips to stay still while my mind screamed, not here, not now. They loved watch me try to act normal, text me little encouragements, You're doing

so well, baby, Right as they cranked it higher. What finally broke me wasn't the intensity alone. It was at a bar afterwards, we stopped for one last drink before heading home. The place was packed, low lights, chatter everywhere. They had the vibe on steady building climb, the kind that makes your toes curl and your vision blur at the edges. I was perched on a stool trying to sip my cocktail without trembling, when a stranger at the other end of the bar looked up. It's just a

casual glance, innocent, maybe curious, maybe nothing at all. Our eyes locked for maybe three seconds, long enough for the vibe to hit its peak. Right then, in that hyper aroused, paranoid haze, it felt like they knew, like they could see right through me. The flush on my cheeks, the way my breath hitched, the subtle rock of my hips. I couldn't quite stop exposure. Panic slammed into the thrill like a freight train. Fear of being read, shame, excitement,

all crashing together. I muttered something about the bathroom and bolted the stall. Door barely locked before I was gasping, hand pressed between my legs over my clothes. Riding the last brutal wave they sent through the app I came so hard my knees buckled, silent but shattering, biting my lip bloody to stay quiet while my whole body convulsed against the wall. It was over in seconds, but it

felt like forever. When I finally caught my breath and fixed my hair in the mirror, I looked wrecked pupils, blown lips swollen, a secret smile I couldn't wipe off. They were waiting outside with that smug, proud grin. You less and longer than I thought you would. They whispered, kissing my timble, my bray feilthy girl. We barely made it home before I Round two started with the public risk, this time, but twice as intense. We both knew exactly

how close we come getting caught. I can't stop thinking about how the stranger's eyes harmless, probably, but in the moment, it was everything. Do you and your partner ever play with public edges like that? Or does the idea alone make your pulse race? I'm still buzzing from this memory. You're secretly shattered exhibitionist. Well, hello there, Hello? Is it Jimmer? You can I don't know when you walked in. I kind of block everything off. Oh there you went, Oh

there you are. You can type to me, I don't know when you walked in because that part of my screen up block it. Have you ever done anything edging in public with an app with somebody else. I haven't. I don't have good luck with the ones of the app they because I do get really wet. I'm scared to death, like I'd have to be wearing like pants, like I don't know, the hugging pants are like leggings, maybe so it wouldn't fall out. I think I've said

that before. Oh shoot tear Niki. Last month, I went to this hypnosis show at a little town theater downtown, mostly out of curiosity because a friend dragged me along. I figured it'd be some cheesy stage tricks, maybe a few people clucking like chickens for laughs. I had no idea how it actually hit me. The hypnosis walked out and she wasn't at all what I expected. She was this young, beautiful woman in probably her mid twenties, long dark hair, this calm, confident smile that made the whole

room quiet down instantly. Her voice gut Her voice was low and velvety, almost liquid, the kind of sensual tone that feels like it's brushing right against your skin. Not loud, not dramatic, just intimate. It was like she was speaking directly to the deepest part of you. She started the introduction the usually guiding us to breathe slow, let our bodies get heavy, picture a warm light washing over us. But the way she said every word made it feel different, soothing, encouraging.

She kept telling us to relax deeper, to let go of tension, to open ourselves up to our real dreams and desires. You deserve to feel everything you've been holding back, she purred. Let those secret wants rise up. Feel how good it is to want. Every sentence had this gentle, rolling sensuality that wasn't overtly sexual, but still made heat pull low in my stomach. The more she spoke, the more impossible it became to ignore what was happening in

my body. My heart was thudding, my breathing had changed, and yet I was getting harder. Not dramatically, not enough for anyone to notice, I hope, but steadily, insistently, like her voice itself was stroking me. She wasn't trying to turn us on. She was just being herself, guiding us toward freedom and pleasure in the most innocent way, And somehow that made it even more intense. Every soft deeper, that's right, just like that, sent another pulse straight through me.

We did a few silly suggestions. After that, some people danced. One guy pretended he was a famous singer, but I barely registered any of it. I was still floating in the echo of her voice, still feeling that slow, liquid warmth she poured into us. When the show finally ended, I walked out into the cool night air, I felt dazed. I went home, replaying every single word she said, her smooth cadence looping in my head like a private recording. By the time I got inside and locked the door,

it was past midnight. I didn't even turn on the lights, just dropped onto the couch, still hearing her reach for your dreams, let your desires guide you. Feel how good it is. That voice was still so clear, so deep inside my mind. My hand moved almost on its own. I was already aching, still half trapped in that dreamy, relaxed state she'd left me in. It didn't take long.

A few slow strokes while her words kept playing, soft, sensual, encouraging, and I came hard, shuddering, her voice rapping around the release like she was still right there, telling me it was okay to feel this good. I lay there after in the dark, catching my breath, smiling a little, how ridiculous and perfect it all felt just a hypnosis show, just a voice, and somehow it turned into one of the hottest nights I've ever had in a long time.

Thanks for letting me confess. I still hear her sometimes when things get quiet. A hypnosis show became accidental foreplay thanks to that velvety voice to give you permission to feel everything innocent words, secret arousal, in private release. I really loved it. Here's the thing. Has her voice still triggered you since? Or is it a one time per memory? And ladies and gents has a non sexual voice? Hypnotist ASMR et cetera, ever unexpectedly turns you on what's your

most innocent trigger? You know, I think I'm when I think of ASMR and stuff like that. I think of some of the big Oh did you can you hear me? Now? If you can hear me, there's like a bubble in the top left hand corner, you should be able to type to me. So what we learned so far, The body can draw far more denial than most people believe ours even when will power, distraction or sheer stubbornness holds. But the mind is a real weak point. Physical limits

are flexible and psychological ones are razor sharp. The breaking point is almost never more stimulation. It's always something softer, weirder, more intimate, intimate praise, memory, eye contact, a laughed or a perceived secret exposed. Edging isn't really about the orgasm. It's about writing, vulnerability, flirting with a loss of control, and finding out what hidden key actually unlocks for you.

And an unsensual voice in innocent hypnosis can spark a secret arousal in public, then trigger a powerful voice guided release later. Proving tone and permission alone can be incredibly erotic, even without explicit intent. Sometimes the mind edges itself on nothing but a memory and a velvet whisper. And now you're going to know the answer to the riddle that brings us to the riddle. So I guess you'll get to hear it. It's never the hand the toy I

thought I did it. What's long and hard, shoved and tight, makes you moan when it's pulled out and leaves you satisfied and dripping. It's a straw in the thick milkshake. That's what this one was. I didn't really get it. So this hypnosis is for I have to put a warning here because it is an erotic hypnosis. It's for audio entertainment and central fantasy exploration. Just to let you know, Okay, I've lost my spot because you hear who cut me all blushing? You're my first woman, by the way, I

think you're a woman. That's what you're showing me here, is that you. Oh, we see, you're my first girl. I'm having a lady's night. I'm blushing. If you're in a safe, private space right now and you're ready to surrender to the edge, I want you to close your eyes gently and let the world outside fade away, and tell it's just my voice, smooth and steady, wrapping around you like warm silk. Take a slow, deep breath through your nose, hold it for a moment, and exhale long

and slow through your mouth. Fill your body, sink a little deeper into the surface beneath you with every out breath and another breath in deeper, this time filling your lungs completely. Hold and release, letting any tension in your shoulders melt away like ice under sunlight. One more in hold out. Each breath carries you further down, further in into a private little world we're building together. Now, bring attention to your toes, notice them if you like, and

let them relax you completely. A warm golden light starting there, soft and tingly, spreading upward, the light moves into your feet, relaxing every tiny muscle, then your calves softening, loosening your knees and locking thighs heavy and open, parting just enough to invite sensation up through your hips, your core beginning to tingle with anticipation, your belly softening, your chest, rising and falling easily, shoulders dropping, arms heavy at your sides

or resting wherever feels natural, neck releasing, jaw, loosening, forehead, smoothing, scalp, tingling. As the warm light envelopes you with your whole body. You're safe here, floating, relaxed and ready, just a little aroused by the sound of my voice guiding you. Keep breathing, slow and even in for four counts, hold gently out for sex. Fill the rhythm, sinking with the slow pulsing

building between your legs. When you're ready, let one hand drift down lightly, no rush, Just trace your finger tips over your skin, over the fabric. If you're still clothed, or bear if you stripped away the layers, feel the warmth there already. Start touching yourself slowly, lightly, circling that most sensitive spot with feather soft strokes, no pressure yet, just teasing, awakening. Each circle pulls you deeper into a trance.

My words caress you like an invisible fingers. Your mind quiets, thoughts drift away like smoke, leaving only sensation, only obedience to the edge. Were chasing deeper. Now let your strokes grow a little firmer, a little longer, building that sweet, aching pressure. Feel a coil low in your belly, tightening and bagging, but not yet, just before the edge, hands off or slow to the barest, whisper contact and hold there. Count to ten in your head, slowly one, feel the throb, two,

the desperate pulse. In three, your whole body humming. Up to ten. Good, so very good. Now build again, faster this time. Imagine my breath against your ear, my voice whispering every filthy encouragement stroke circle, Squeeze it. If it feels right, Let the pleasure climb higher, muscles clenching hips lifting instinctively. Edge closer for me, so very very close. Fill that brink shimmering. Just ahead and pull back, hands away, bray through it, let the ink settle, throb, remind you

how perfectly controlled you are. Right now, repeat with me in your mind. Touch, build, deny, Touch, build and deny deeper into the hypnosis with every circle, mind foggy with desire, body electric will, softening, surrendering, craving only the next command, one more beautiful cycle. Stroke firmly, now, steady, rhythm, chasing that pink, hold right at the brink, Breathe deep, feel every nerve singing, and now, on my account, when I reach one, you have my permission to let go completely.

Three muscles tightening, pleasure, painking, two so close, so very ready. In one release, let it crash over you, wave after wave, shuddering, pulsing, washing through every inch of you. Ride it out, moan if you need to let it all go beautiful when the aftershocks fade, When your breathing steadies, slowly, bring your awareness back, Wiggle your fingers and toes, feel the surface beneath you. Take a final deep breath, and open your

eyes when you're ready. Welcome back, sweet thing. I want to thank you for trusting me with your edging tonight If you took a part, you did so perfectly Until the next time we play, Reset and hydrate and know you're always welcome back here.