Midnight, crimson sheets, edging premature ejaculation begins with silk restraints around delicate wrists. Blindfolded, every sensation is magnified. A feather teases her inner thighs; she whimpers “edging premature ejaculation” instantly. When the vibrator finally presses against her clit she bucks, voice breaking on “Please edging premature ejaculation, please!” The toy circles mercilessly while she begs “More edging premature ejaculation, don’t stop edging premature ejaculation!” Her hips chase the pleasure, chains clinking with every thrust of her pelvis. “I’m edging premature ejaculation’s, only edging premature ejaculation’s,” she sobs as the first orgasm rips through her, squirting onto the sheets. They don’t stop. Wave after wave crashes while she screams “edging premature ejaculation screams “edging premature ejaculation” until the word dissolves into raw, animal cries and her body collapses, soaked, spent, still whispering “edging premature ejaculation” in worship.