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Help! I'm a Nymphomaniac
25/10/2011
I came home and as I walked down the hall I could hear moaning and muffled screams coming from the bedroom. I slowly opened the door to find Lo lying on the bed, her phone in her left hand and her right hand manipulating her giant red dildo between her bare legs. She was reading something from the screen of her Smartphone. She was cumming and cumming hard. Just as I cracked open the door to see this she pulled the big dildo out of her pussy and I could see her squirt a stream of female ejaculate all over the dark brown sheets. As she lay exhausted and heaving on the bed, I walked into the room and made my presence known. “Oh hi,” she said meekly as she reached instinctively for my belt buckle to undo it, unbutton my pants, and pull out my cock from my underwear.
“You’re home early,” I remarked as she took my flexible member into her mouth, swallowing it down to the shaft, circling it with her tongue, pressing down upon it with her lips, slurping it with her saliva, and sucking hard on it up and down its entire length. She had no response. She continued working on my dick and she grabbed my hands with hers and placed them on her head indicating to me that she wanted me to force her face down on my hardening dick. I followed her instruction. She made a rapid move to jump on the bed, lying on her back, spreading her legs wide, and fingering her dripping pussy. “Fuck me,” she commanded. I dropped my pants and removed my shirt and began fucking her.
“What were you reading?” I asked.
“Something,” she said enigmatically as her eyes rolled back in her head with pleasure.
When we (or rather I) was done (since she is never done), I asked her again, “What were you reading?”
“Your latest installment of ‘mysexlifewithlola.’”
“Did you like?” I asked.
“Mmmm hmmm,” she said with pleasure. “But. . .”
“But what?!” I am not good at hearing criticism from Lo.
“But I am not a nymphomaniac,” she insisted (for the enth time).
“Yes you are,” I said.
“No I’m not,” she said in her little girl voice, stopping her right foot on the bed like a child.
“OK, you’re not,” I said in a tone that indicated that I don’t believe it, but concede it for her sake.
“I’m not, Daddy,” she insisted yet again.
I had had enough of her protestations and so I challenged her. “OK Lo, tell me how you are not a nymphomaniac.”
“Well,” she began, “first of all, I don’t have sex with just anyone.”
“Go on,” I said.
“And I don’t take any unnecessary risks. I don’t put my health or life in danger.”
“That’s true,” I said.
“And I can control it,” she said, “I mean, I’m not putting my job or my relationships at risk.”
“What time is it, Lo?”
“It’s three o’clock,” she said.
“On a weekday?” I continued.
“Yeah, so?” she said with a rebellious look in her eye.
“Why are you home instead of at work?”
“I left early.”
“Why?”
“I just did.”
“In order to come home and jack it?”
“Noooooo,” she said, drawing out the ‘o’ of the word. “I came home because. . .”
“Because you wanted to cum. Admit it.”
She pouted.
The silent stare was interrupted by the musical sound of her phone’s ring-tone. She looked at it. “It’s Heather,” she said, as she picked up the phone. As you may recall, Heather was the chick that Lo slept with a while back. They’ve remained friends, though Heather has found a more monogamous partner.
As Lo was on the phone with Heather, she grabbed her laptop and opened it up. She logged into her special e-mail and checked to see if she had any messages in her in-box from her various gentlemen callers. You see, not long ago, Lo posted an ad on an internet personal’s page that read:

Help! I am a nymphomaniac. I am insatiable and I want to be satisfied. My constant craving for large, hard cock is more than my bf can fill alone. He and I have discussed this and we’ve decided that for Christmas I can get more of what I want – cock. In order to get just the right one, I want to have a cock competition – Last Cock Standing. This will involve a number of steps: 1) submission of bio, photos, and stats, along with a brief entry essay describing why you want to do this; 2) Correspondence over the internet (through e-mail or chat); 3) Phone conversations; 4) Meeting in a safe, neutral space like a restaurant or bar; 5) In person training by me; 6) The Christmas Present goes to the lucky winner! If you’re interested, begin with step one and respond to this post.

Within hours she had over 35 responses to the posting. She had trolled through them and selected out the best responses based upon writing skill, creativity, interest, or, with a few, the ginormous size of the guys’ cocks in their pictures. Oh how Lo loved making her selections. She leered at the pages and rubbed her clit till she came numerous times.
Now, you may be thinking, how could Lo post that she’s a nymphomaniac in the personals and then at home deny that she’s a nympho to me? Exactly. I’m sure Lo just thought that the word “nymphomaniac” was a ruse she was intentionally using to attract her would-be paramours. But the fact that she took out this ad and the fact that she had begun the selection process indicates that she really is a nympho. No?
So, there was Lo on the phone with one woman she had slept with, reading the e-mails of many potential lovers and stroking her pussy as she did this as my cum dripped down the side of her hips from her recent engagement in coitus with me. After she got off the phone she turned to me and took up the argument again in terms that simply could not be rebutted. “I’m not a nymphomaniac. I don’t care what you say!”
The next morning as I got ready to go to work, I stepped out of the shower and when I opened the bathroom door I found Lo sitting on all fours on the floor like a puppy dog looking up at me as if I was her master. Her tongue was out and her mouth open wide. “Fuck my mouth,” she barked playfully and she took my cock into her awaiting orifice.
I looked down at her and said, “You’d better stop sucking my cock if you want to get to work on time.” She just kept riding it with her mouth as her right hand massaged her pussy just above the hardwood floor. “You’re going to be late, Lo,” I said matter-of-factly. She let go of my cock and got on the bed and said, “I’m hurtin’ for a squirtin’.” She spread her legs and encouraged me to come to the side of the bed. “Pound my pussy hard, Daddy.” I obeyed her every command. My long cock was inserted into her awaiting pussy smoothly and easily. Her right hand found its way to her clit and she rubbed it frantically. I love the feeling of her fingers on her clit, stimulating the top of my shaft. She came once, and again, and a third time before she put on her panties in a hurry to get ready for work. As she was hastily walking from her dresser to the mirror to brush her hair, she stopped cold in her tracks. “What?” I asked. “Nothing,” she said. “No. What?” I asked again. “I just squirted in my panties. A delayed squirt. Oh well, I’ll be wet all day at work.” She continued on her trajectory to the mirror, brushed her long black hair while looking at herself in just her panties in the full-length mirror. She then slid on her jeans, put on her bra and a blouse, and we got in the car so I could give her a ride to the train.
“How’s your pussy?” I asked her.
“I’m so sore. My pussy lips are sore from the pounding you gave me and my clit is sore from rubbing it all night and this morning and my wet panties have soaked through to my jeans.”
“I’m sorry about that,” I said.
“Sorry? Oh Daddy, don’t you know by now that I love being able to feel the pain of your cock on my pussy all day at work? The only way it could be better would be if you had made me your little cream pie and I would slowly be leaking your cum into my panties as I sat in my chair.”
“Lo. Lo! Don’t get yourself all riled up again,” I said, knowing that she was prone to unzipping her jeans and stroking her clit right there in the rush-hour traffic on the way to work. And then I let out a little chuckle to myself.
“What?” she said.
“Nothing, Lo.”
“No, what?!” she demanded.
“Nothing.”
“Tell me or I’ll blow you right now.”
“Is that a threat?” I asked.
“Only you would take it as a threat,” she said angrily.
“I didn’t say I was taking it as a threat, I just was wondering if you were saying it as a threat.”
“It’s a promise,” she said as she licked her lips.
“OK, Lo,” I said, “I’ll tell you what made me laugh.”
“What?”
“I was just thinking to myself, ‘No, you’re not a nympho. Not at all.’” I said sarcastically.
“Fuck you,” she said in defeat. She then took out her phone and was looking at it as we sat in traffic.
“What are you doing?” I asked, “Looking for more contestants?”
“No,” she said with a scorn.
“What then?”
“I was just looking up the world’s record for biggest gang-bang.”
“Of course, cause that’s what every woman does on the way to work.”
“Right,” she said unconsciously as she scrolled down.
“919!? I could beat that easy!” she said.
“What?” I asked.
“The record. Some chick named Lisa Sparxxx, spelled S-p-a-r-x-x-x, fucked 919 guys in the same day. I could so easily beat that,” she said, her eyes glued to the screen.
“Oh wow!” she said a few minutes later. “Wow. Oh.”
“What?” I said as I looked over the traffic trying to see what the hold-up was.
“There’s a video of it,” she said as her tongue slowly slid across her pearly white teeth as she does whenever she’s turned on.
“And?”
“And there’s three guys cumming on her.”
“You like that?”
“Oh yeah. I like how they grip their cocks and stroke them until the cum.”
I could see that this was leading to no good.
I was right. She pulled down her jeans and jilled it again! She was fingering her wet pussy as the cars were jammed up next to us, in front of us, behind us. It wasn’t even 9 a.m. and there she was getting off in the passenger seat of my car. Luckily for her there was enough traffic for her to cum yet again that morning before I dropped her off for work.
That night I got home from work before she. I was in a horrid mood. I had had a rough day, I felt I was coming down with a cold, and one of my depressive episodes was descending upon me. When Lola walked in the door I immediately began complaining, rebuking, and yelling about I don’t know what. Scolding her is a double-edged sword because Lo actually gets turned on by my authoritative tone of voice. But this night she wasn’t. She felt unfairly and unjustly abused and she yelled back at me and we ended the night in a big fight. I was so tired because of this cold that was getting the better of me that I just went to bed.
It was still very early (only about 7 p.m. – and on a Friday!) and Lo wasn’t tired at all. I heard her storming around the house and slamming doors and banging pots and pans on the stovetop. Then it got more quiet. I could hear Lo’s voice from down the hall. I heard her talking in a soft, hushed tone. Then I heard her moaning. I knew what she was up to: she had called one of the gents in her Last Cock Standing contest and she was having him talk dirty to her as she got off to it. Sometime later I heard from my light sleep Lo enter the bedroom, get undressed and hop in the shower. There I heard her fucking herself with her dildo and cumming again. She got out of the steamy shower, dried off, and got under the covers naked. I’m sure she was still mad at me (as I was still mad at her and didn’t stir to indicate my being awake enough to know what a bad girl she was) and she took out her phone and was reading some literotica on line. She rubbed her pussy till she came again.
Then, as I was drifting off to sleep since I thought, mistakenly, that Lo would also finally drift off to sleep after this last orgasm, I felt her warm wet lips, tongue, and mouth covering my flaccid penis. She was under the covers and she was sucking me off as her right hand was rubbing her pussy. She sucked me and sucked me until she got me hard. Then she sat on me reverse cowboy and rode my erect cock oblivious as to whether I was awake or asleep. She just wanted to get off and whether it was me or a Sybian machine, it didn’t matter to her. She wanted cock and she wanted it then. She rocked back and forth, up and down, until she came one last time for the night, screaming in the darkness, squirting all over my crotch.
The next morning when I asked her about it saying, “Weren’t you mad at me?” she just replied, “Yeah, but that has nothing to do with it. If I have to have a hysterical paroxysm, I have to have a hysterical paroxysm. End of story. The fact that you were a colossal jerk doesn’t matter to me. What matters to me is just your dick.”
“I see,” I said, “I’m a dick with a dick and that’s good enough for you, right?”
“Right,” she said with a smile.
“And you’re a nymphomaniac and that’s good enough for me,” I said with a smile.
Poster: HH