Show me the resilience of your member. It won’t be a facile task, yet I wouldn’t task you with it if I doubted your capacity! Observing my flawless posterior sway before your gaze is always a delight, albeit a tantalizingly perplexing one. While you stroke and teeter on the brink, the awareness that you’ll never lay a hand on my derrière never escapes you. Nor will you ever savor its kiss. You remain, perpetually, my feeble edge devotee. Halt your motions. Commence anew. Not a single rhythm falters. It’s almost mechanical, the manner in which you pleasure yourself for me. Your adoration for my form knows no bounds, even in the absence of physical proximity. To be my cherished servant, you don’t require tactile sensation; rather, you must simply edge that member according to my desires. Edge until your corporeal vessel can endure no more, and I guide you into ultimate euphoria with a countdown.
