So the nympho's sex life is null and void at the moment, which leaves me with few juicy stories to share. However, I did have an idea.
I want to know what you desire. Let me rephrase that, ask me anything you want. What would you like to know, or hear about? Nothing is taboo and all questions will be addressed. I promise. Please, do email me your burning thoughts and inquiries...
All answers and ensuing stories will be published here on the blog (you can be anonymous if you wish, just let me know).
Remember, nothing is off limits. Give it to me hard.
This nympho's sex life has been something akin to the Sahara Desert lately, folks - as you might have been able to tell from the lack of actual sex posts lately. So it brings me immense pleasure to bring you all a long awaited (by you and I) Sexcapade:
He popped open a bottle of red wine moments after we both walked in the door. It'd been a long day for me - work, leaving early for a doctor's appointment, going to the DMV, going to the pharmacy, pre-rush hour traffic. I was grateful for the warm, bittersweet liquid as it trickled down my throat. We sat at our computer desks - exactly opposite one another - idly chatting, sipping, and surfing as we did most afternoons.
"I need to go and take a bath," I said casually, as he poured me a second glass.
"I want to take a bath with you," he said, cocking a playful eyebrow up at me.
I was surprised. B., as previously noted here, is not known for his sex drive - if he even has one. Though in recent talks he has agreed that he needs to be more giving with the cock. So far, he's been living up to this goal nicely.
Delighted, I went and poured us a hot bubble bath, lighting the small bathroom up with candles and giving it a lovely, warm glow. He came in as I was undressing and playfully gave my nipple a little tweak, grinning at me affectionately. He climbed in and leaned back as I followed, lying back against him. We talked and giggled as he idly stroked my body, sometimes finding his way down to my clit. I leaned back further, turning my head and he met me in a hot and wet kiss. His finger was making delightful circles around my clit and I moaned around his tongue as I felt his cock growing hard against my backside.
Suddenly he broke away, "My god, baby," he said, "I can feel your wetness - even under the water."
I grinned, handing him my poof after I'd drizzled it with lavender-scented bath gel. He bathed me slowly and teasingly, spending extra time on my most sensitive areas. After that we grabbed my best friend, the hand-held shower nozzle, and he washed my hair - giving me a luxurious scalp massage. I was feeling good all over and could no longer control myself when he began nibbling on my most sensitive part - my neck.
I grabbed both sides of the tub and hauled myself up while he quickly slid directly under me. Slowly, I lowered myself down onto his waiting cock - my aching pussy literally quivering with desire. Both of us moaned as he slid in and I began with slow, circular movements that ground myself into him.
Realizing the shower nozzle was still going strong, I excitedly grabbed it and shot it straight on my clit.
"Can you feel that?" I asked, my own voice almost cracking from the intensity.
"No," he said, "But keep it on there if it feels good for you."
I have never had the chance before to combine my two favorite things - my hand-held shower massager and actual sex. I began riding him faster, the water lapping up just almost over the lip of the tub with a rhythmic whoosh as the massager pulsated a heavy stream of warm water right onto my clit. The effect was dizzying and I came almost immediately - crying out and almost losing my balance in the midst of it all. He pulled out of me and said he wanted to wait - and go at it again soon.
We ended up having company, and I went to bed early. But as I awoke in the a.m., I decided to try my luck a second time. I scooted closer to his warm body and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He smiled, though he kept his eyes closed.
"Baby," I whispered in my husky, just-woke-up voice. "Make love to me."
He moaned, and stretched out a hand that found my breast - nipple already hard. He breathed down my neck and nibbled on my ear as his hands caressed my body - always coming just inches from my pussy. This slow and deliberate teasing always gets me so worked up. Finally his mouth found my own and his fingers found my clit with the fast and sure skill that I love about him. I was moaning and suddenly begged him to be inside of me. I couldn't take this anymore.
He rolled on top of me and I wondered briefly when he'd had the time to take his boxers off. Without a moment's hesitation he was sliding inside of me. I cried out in utter delight, wrapping my legs around him and pulling him down fully on top of me. We began our dance and he slid his hands under my ass, lifting me up so that he could slide even deeper inside.
With such a good work-up beforehand, it didn't take me long - I felt it first as a warm tingling in my thighs, that spread up and over my stomach and turned into a heat all throughout my body. I screamed and clutched at him as it rose, throwing my mind into that realm of confusion and intense pleasure, and rode the wave out - it ebbed slowly and he finished himself off as I recovered from my own.
I think he's making up for lost time; and I have to say he's doing a damn good job of it.
My first boyfriend and I lived together for four years and had the wildest sex life I've had with anyone to date. We were both nymphos, and kinky ones at that with an open approach to sex that was as healthy as it was fun. We'd try just about anything once, and neither of us had any hang-ups about experiencing pleasure in whatever form it could be found. In other words, we were/are both bisexual.
For those that don't know it, there is something absolutely amazing about bisexual men, and women that think it's too-unmasculine or consider it an unattractive thought are truly missing out. Perhaps it's that I've always been so comfortable with my own sexuality, knowing I was attracted to women long before I was ever attracted to men and accepting it without much thought or worry. I jokingly referred to myself as a "dyke who likes dick" for some time. Whatever the case, I have always been drawn to bisexual or effeminate men. This became clear to me only after a guy I had the hots for, a close friend of my boyfriend and I's, turned out to be a cross-dresser. We, being regular and full-time freaks, were the first people this man had ever confessed his secret to and we joyfully helped him go out shopping after that for dresses and wigs; it was fun. I've heard that today he lives somewhere out in California as a full-time Dominatrix; and as a woman. That was the first time I noticed a pattern in the men I was attracted to.
My current boyfriend is the only straight man I've ever dated - and while he's all man, he still falls somewhere in the middle; probably more metrosexual than anything though I hate to use the term b/c it's been so over-used. I had hoped he'd turn out, after all, to be into men - but he's as straight as an arrow. Hey, you can't win all the time.
Most of my female friends are confused by my love of bisexual men. They can't imagine dating a man who is into other men - who's, basically, half or almost gay. The idea they have in their heads, I'm sure, is of some foppish, flaming individual who is a total bottom. Nothing could be further from the truth. To me, a bisexual man is a true hedonist - a man so into carnal bliss and the heights of pleasure that he is open and willing to experience it in any form - whether it be making love to a female or another male. A man so comfortable in his sexuality that he can love and fuck either sex without sending his own mind into a state of turmoil is an exceptional individual - especially in the society we live in today where's it's just becoming "slightly" okay to be gay and completely looked down upon by almost everyone to be male and bisexual (from straight to gay people). I can't think of a single thing more erotic than seeing my man, my normally strong and manly man, succumbing to the taboo pleasure of another man's touch.
The men I've dated that are bisexual have been amazing lovers. Never will you find a straight man (my present one included) so in touch with feminine desires and needs. I've never met a straight man that was as sensual as the bisexual lovers I have had (and I've had my share of both). I'm not saying there are not totally straight men out there that are in touch with their feminine sides and are sensual and adept lovers; just that the majority of the ones I've come across were not. There is something intriguing about a man that can be attracted to other men - something dark and mysterious and erotic; to know they are so into sex, such lovers of pure pleasure that they would seek out in any form. That is a man this nympho can get into.
My best friend once said of me, "You're the only person I know who proudly displays their vibrator in their soap dish."
I really believe this had more to do with the fact that I'm rather lazy than anything related to my unquenchable thirst for all things sexual. Still, while it may not be evidence that I am a true nympho (but am a slovenly housekeeper), it certainly is an indication of my sacred bath time ritual.
When I was a young teen, I spent many hours masturbating - more than once a day, too. I often daydreamed of when I'd be a grown woman and how I would have the most amazing collection of sex toys; especially vibrators. I was fascinated with vibrators even though I'd never seen an actual one outside of the local Spencer's. I loved the idea of being able to have something that hummed and quaked that I could stick inside me. Now grown, I own only three vibrators and I never use them two of them. I found, once I finally began having sex, that having something that hummed and quaked inside me couldn't even compare to the soft warm harness of male flesh.
That said, while I may not have the vast sex toy assortment I hoped for as a teen, I have all I need, all any woman needs, to keep me happy. My hand-held shower massager. It's not just for showering anymore. Trust me.
Now I can't see a woman alive not enjoying the thundering rain of water pounding against her clit, but I believe masturbation via water holds an even more erotic feeling for me. My first ever experience with masturbating was in a swimming pool - lined up perfectly with the pump jets. I didn't know what I was doing, but I knew it felt good; damn good. I've been obsessed with "water sports" (no, not that kind) ever since.
So it was with much delight that I finally ordered a slim waterproof vibrator for my tub-time fun - and yes, Bubbles sits in my bathtub's soap dish. The combination of humming vibrator and pounding-water-on-clit is a sureproof cum-within-seconds orgasm for me. It has become a bath time ritual for me. Shave - bathe - wash hair - masturbate. I come out feeling completely cleansed.
I usually bathe with bubble bath and plenty of candles in the room. Sometimes I'll have a glass of wine or champagne, or just a beer. The entire time I'm in the tub, while I'm doing all of my other "cleaning duties", I'm thinking about sex. Hot, dirty, nasty, wet sex - whatever scenario fits my mood at the time. By time I get to the last part, I'm more than ready.
I turn the massager on jet-spray, the high-powered one, and tease myself with it for long moments at a time. Moving from my clit down the length of my pussy. There isn't an inch of it that doesn't love the feel of that jetstream. When I've gotten myself completely aroused and ready, I take Bubbles, turn him on, and gently slide him just inside of myself. I hold him there, barely pushing, and let the massager work its magic on my clit - the more aroused I get, the more I open up, and the more the vibrator slowly slides inside. It really doesn't take long, once that's slid in, for me to have the most amazing orgasm.
It almost beats the warm flesh of an actual cock.
Almost.