Diary of a Nymphomaniac by Fyre
September 1, 2000
Dear Diary,
I’ve been reading a lot on the internet. I’m wondering if I’m really a sex addict. What started this is that a "concerned wife" of one of the men I’m seeing emailed me an assortment of websites about sexual addiction. I think she was trying to indicate that I must have a rather "serious problem. " I guess because I fucked her beloved husband on the picnic table at the park, she thought I must need therapy.
I shrugged, but I took a web trip through her handpicked sites.
I might be one!! But I’m not sure what I’m willing to do about it. I mean, if I was a drug addict, I would have to give up drugs. If I was an alcoholic, I would have to give up alcohol. But being that I might really be a sex addict, I’m NOT going to give up sex. I swear that to you right now. What I did decide to do was to write down my sexual encounters to determine whether I think there might be something I should do about it. So I got this little notebook and now I am going to tell all. You decide.
Yes, I did fuck Jeff on the picnic table, but it’s not like I had to twist his fucking arm. It was more like I had to unzip his jeans, take his rock hard dick into my mouth and suck the thing down my throat.
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I think the "concerned wife" bitch needs to evaluate why her dear hubby would stick it in a stranger’s cunt. But he managed, and I loved it and I told him that he could have a piece of it anytime.
You see, I work at an electrical supply house. All day long, there’s contractors and electricians coming in and ordering things like "female plugs" and "nipples" and coax cable. I can’t help it if most of these things have slang names that remind everyone of body parts and sexual encounters. So when I put together an order, sometimes I can’t help it if I strut a little, and act helpless when it comes to picking up 40 lbs. of pipe. Since I’ve had this job, I’ve lost a good deal of weight, and the body just keeps getting better and better. I’ve always been 5'4" tall, with brassy red ringlets and a few freckles spattered across my nose, but now I’m a lean, mean 115 pounds, and the men keep noticing.
So is "sex addict" the most recent term for "nympho?" Is it more politically correct? Does it apply to me and not to her husband? Is this one of those double standard things, and what’s good for the gander is not good for the goose?? I wondered if she made her husband, dear Jeff, endure her nagging until he also looked through those websites, or did the sex addiction label just apply to me?
I can’t help it. When the guys start looking at me while I’m carrying a Westinghouse breaker box out to put in the back of a utility pickup and my jeans are tight and my shirt is clinging and my 34C’s are swinging a little. (I don’t know why the boobies didn’t shrink down with the rest of me. Now I have a large set of tits, and a trim waist and hips. ) Some of my clothes are a little sloppy, so the necks of my shirts slip down over one shoulder, showing a sexy strap, or no strap at all. There’s never women who come into our store, except maybe once in awhile to settle a contractor’s bill, so nobody really minds if my boobs sway a little while I’m working.
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My boss is unhappily married, but he’s made it clear he’s off-limits. It’s crazy, but when he found out how easy I am, he hired his 62 year old father to work in my office! I call his father Old Guy, which is only a little more respectful than what he should be called: Old Fart. Old Guy tells me about some of the old porno movies, his favorite star is Ginger Lynn. I think he was trying to impress me.
The Old Guy started off in my office by giving me a tall stool to sit on, which I love, but when I balance on the small seat surface and throw my feet up on the metal bar--since there’s no back to the chair--his tongue practically falls out of his mouth. Sometimes he just sits and stares at my ass. He’s spent hours listening to me flirt on the phone! Some of the guys are legitimate love interests, and others are just for fun. Old Guy can’t help it. He’s falling all over himself trying to figure out how to get into these pants he loves to look at so much. I don’t know quite what to do about it. I mean, on the one hand, I’m not a purposeful tease (not unless that’s all the guy wants) but I’m just not attracted to Old Guy. He’s learned some of my codes that I use to ask my "friends" if we can meet for lunch. One thing I say to Jeff is "You think it’s going to rain today?" If he says "yes," then we’re on for lunch. If he says "no" then I know he’s too busy to fit me in. One time I was standing in the store and I asked Jeff if he thought it was going to rain.
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Jeff said he wasn’t sure. Old guy said, "if you ask me, I’d think it was going to be a torrential downpour with hail and thunderclouds. " Of course, outside there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, but I knew my code had been broken.
September 5, 2000
Dear Diary,
Today, I met Jeff for "lunch. " He has a van, and we went in the back, pulled into a deserted parking lot and went at it. Jeff’s a good fuck. For one thing, he looks like Tom Selleck, with the black hair and mustache and I love looking at his hot bod. He works outside all day, so he has a gorgeous tan and sleek muscles. He’s forty, and I guess his wife’s stopped giving it up to him the way he likes. I thought about what it must be like to fuck someone who thinks that instead of you having a healthy sexual appetite, she frets that it’s an obsession.
I think with Jeff, it’s more that he used to fuck a different girl every night. He’s so handsome that he can pick up anyone at a bar and back in the eighties, and that’s exactly what he did. Meeting me makes him remember the good ole days and though he loves the wife and being married with children, he still craves a good hot spontaneous fuck.
But then who doesn’t? In the parking lot, I was teasing Brian–he’s one of the guys with the "I can’t I’m married" defenses, "but I don’t mind thinking about it. " So I took some equipment out to his pickup and he got in.
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I was leaning over the door, just talking and he said he said he didn’t believe I was naked underneath my dress. I was already feeling too horny. My tryst with Jeff had lubricated my pussy and I had juices dripping out of my cunt. I couldn’t do anything without inhaling the strong smell of sex when I moved. When Brian sat there all smug and married in his truck, looking at me and calling me a liar, I just took it as a challenge. Aha! I’d show him! I was wearing one of those wraparound dresses, and it fastened with an enormous button on my left hip.
"You don’t think I’m telling the truth?"
"Put your money where your mouth is. "
And before he could choke back those words, I unfastened the button and held the dress wide open, like a pervert in a raincoat. You believe me now?
My nipples were standing at attention. I dropped the sides of my dress and pinched my nipples with both hands, the deep red tips peeking out between thumbs and forefingers. I traced a circle around my nipples, giving him a good view of my sweet 34-24-35 figure. Too bad you don’t want any of this. Have a good time tonight with your wife.
I waved bye-bye as he pulled out of the parking lot and blew him a kiss. It only takes a minute to hook the front of my dress back together, one side fastens inside, the front overlaps and fastens on the other side.
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I looked up, and Old Guy was standing out in the yard.
He was over by the copper pipes, gawking, and he’d seen the whole thing! I gave him a little wave and smiled. What else could I do? I mean, he didn’t do anything for me, he didn’t turn me on at all, but it didn’t hurt to give him a little thrill, did it? I wondered what he thought of me.
Hell, what was I thinking?
September 12, 2000
Dear Diary,
You ever think about addiction? All the places there could be addiction going on, the access is limited to people over age 18. There’s no children who are supposed to witness us adults being addicted or succumbing to an addiction. There are age limits for bars, liquor stores, purchasing cigarettes, strip clubs, adult shops, and gambling casinos. So if I’m addicted, I guess I have to be over 18, which I am, but of course, I haven’t always been. And I’ve been rubbing on this thing for years, craving that zing of a release, playing with the pace and the intensity, trying to get a bigger and better zing to my orgasm. So am I addicted? Or do you do that too? I mean, if I’m going to get off, I want to get off satisfactorily. No biblical "it’s only for procreation" kind of orgasm for me, thank you very much. I’ll be right there with any other selfish hedonists, because when I want to cum and I want to cum with bells on. And I hope you do too. I hope when you get off, you have an awesome time. I want all these guys I see to get off, with no guilt, with no reservations. .
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. and frequently. I like to lay in my apartment at night, covers thrown off, stroking my pussy to the max, and I love to get off thinking about them getting off on thinking about me. So I flirt. I tease and yes, I seduce. What a bad girl am I.
Chris and Kelly were here this morning. They’re Jeff’s apprentices, and he doesn’t let them come in the store by themselves too often, (I guess he doesn’t trust them unsupervised-hee hee) but they were in here around 8:30 this morning, getting a forgotten ceiling fan, and a light switch plate. They came in, got what they needed and when they told me to put it on the account-- I couldn’t help it--all I saw was a threesome waiting to happen. They are such hotties! They’re in their early twenties, and yes, I think Chris has a steady girl, but oh I don’t want to keep them. I just want to play with them a little while. You think I could snare them into my little trap? I scribbled on a pad of paper, "I really really want to suck your cock right now. " I followed them out to the pickup and tucked the paper into Kelly’s shirt pocket. I wasn’t wearing any panties, and I flipped up the back of my skirt to make sure they knew.
I was stunned by my gall.
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But then, when you think about it, it was perfect. Like what’s Jeff going to do if he finds out? Fire them? He was fucking me too! And he’d fucked so many gals back in the eighties, it would be terribly hypocritical of him to get jealous.
Sure enough. There was a phone call before lunch. Old Guy was in my office, listening and drooling as usual. I sat there and whispered to Kelly on the phone, and yes, I knew Old Guy was hanging on my every syllable, then I thought I’d give him a little thrill. I flipped up my skirt in his full view and started masturbating while I was on the phone with Kelly. "I’m wet, Man," I said, sort of to both of them, and I watched Old Guy to see if he could keep his composure. Sure enough, Kelly asked me to come to their job site for lunch, and Old Guy shoved his hand into his pocket and started pushing his dick out of an uncomfortable spot. I hung up the phone, and said, "You want to see my hot, hot cunt?"
Old Guy was kind of breathy. I licked my finger off, sucking off the tangy taste, and I pulled my slit open so I could laborously insert it up to the second knuckle. I pulled it out and showed it to him, all slick with my juices. "Hmmmm. Smell. " I teased, extending my finger to him.
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Old Guy leaned in to smell it, and he even closed his eyes as he breathed in my scent. I thought he was going to dribble all over the table.
"Take it easy," I told Old Guy. "I guess I’d better go to the bathroom and take care of this. "
"I’d sure like to go in and watch. " He sounded a little too sincere. Pathetic!
I giggled. "Maybe someday. But not right now. "
I sashayed out of the office. My four inch heels crisscrossed in front of me. I could well imagine the twitch in his trousers as I swished my skirt back and forth on the way out the door.
I went into the bathroom, sat on the toilet and doubled up with laughter. Old Guy was too easy a mark.
Then I opened my legs.
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My clit jutted out of my inner folds like the eraser on a number two pencil. I tugged on it as I inserted that same finger I let Old Guy smell--then two--into my cunt, and I started working it. I like to orgasm and pee at the same time. I’m a squirter anyway, but when I already have to pee, sometimes it’s nice to just bring myself to the brink, then let the pee flow down, the heat enveloping my hand. I was still on the clock, so I didn’t want to take too much time getting off, besides I was meeting Kelly and Chris for lunch. I just wanted to take the edge off. Oh, and I wanted to make sure Old Guy was totally fantasizing how I was jacking off in the bathroom. He wants to see. How cute! I’ll bet he’d like to see.
I squirted golden fluids into the toilet, watched the golden stream hit the water and hang in a yellow cloud until the color dissipated. I washed my hands, and cupped my hand under the flow of water and swished it on my pussy. I rinsed my hand twice, dried with paper towels, then went back to finish my work on the weekly order. I worked with Old Guy on the store’s inventory.
I didn’t go back into the office until after I collected a cup of coffee. I set the coffee down in front of Old Guy.
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"I put a little cream in it for you. " He thought I must have squirted some cum into the cup for him, and he practically wolfed it down.
I can’t wait till lunch!
September 13, 2000
At lunch, I flew down the road in my car. Chris and Kelly met me in front of the house they were doing the finishing work on. It was lovely. Of course, all the colors of the house were neutral, beiges, whites, creams, and taupes. The floor was a beautiful hardwood, then a lovely cream low pile rug. I barely walked into the house when Kelly pulled up the back of my skirt.
"Nice ass," he said.
"Thank you. " I turned and smiled. I winked at Chris. "You guys are thinking what I’m thinking right?"
They lowered their zippers and their dicks sprang out at me. I knelt down and took them both in my hands. "Umm.
Wonder what we can figure out to do with these?"
There wasn’t any furniture in the house, of course, but the boys threw my skirt up and Chris stuck it in my mouth. I leaned over and Kelly shoved it in my cunt. I gasped as he moved his full length inside of me. Oh my goodness! His dick was a delight. I could feel that it was nice and fat, and it went in deeper than I was accustomed to. It hit so deep inside me, and--I know this is a weird statement--but I felt like I was being stirred.
"Give it to me, Baby. " Kelly grunted as I rocked my ass back against him. I couldn’t say anything because Chris’ cock was filling up my face.
I held my mouth open and he shoved his dick into my mouth, even jamming it down my throat. I gasped and he pulled out, his bulging dick thick with strings of mucus. I held my mouth open as wide as I could, and he jammed it in again. "I’m gonna fuck your pretty mouth, ‘kay?"
I nodded, batted my hazel eyes, and looked up at his face. He was only 22, and he brushed strands of hair out of his face. Kelly was watching me take Chris’ lean and long cock.
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Behind me, he was thrusting in and out, trying to match the rhythm Chris was using to fuck my face. Chris was sliding it way back in my throat. I was pleased I could take it so deep. I mean, I was good at giving head, but sometimes I couldn’t completely take the big ones. Chris was at least nine inches long! It thrilled Kelly to watch it slide in, because after watching another minute, he said, "Let me have some of that, Man. "
They spun me around, and Chris was in my pussy, Kelly in my mouth. Kelly’s dick was thicker than Chris’s, so he pressed the heel of his hand on my forehead to hold my mouth open even wider, and he slammed it in deep. His dick went past my tongue, into that tight place in my throat, and yes, I choked. I gagged on him. He held my head and shoved deeper. My reflexes were fighting to keep him out of that vulnerable spot, but he was fighting me just as hard to get it in. When I gagged the second time, I must have opened up a little wider, and sure enough, his thick long pole slipped past the gag reflex into that softer space deep in my throat, and Kelly moaned, feeling the closeness of my throat muscles so tight around the sensitive head.
I thought he was going to lose it right there, but he held his own. He stopped moving for a moment, allowing my throat to grow accustomed to him inside my throat, and Chris double-timed me from the back. I started crying out with my first climax, but my screams were mostly muffled by the huge cock that was inside my mouth.
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On my knees, I reached between my legs and pinched the head of my clit. My orgasm was right there. I stroked my clit a few times. Chris was hitting my G-spot perfectly, pulling out between thrusts, then banging it in, hitting my spot right on the head. What a great fuck these guys were!
I caught most of my fluids in my hand, but some of them splashed out on the light-colored carpet. Oh shit! In my own wet little way, I christened the new house! I really started getting off after that, thinking about how sterile a new home was supposed to be, and how hot my fucking cunt was--spraying all over the new carpeting!
Kelly wanted a piece of my ass, so he motioned to Chris. "My turn. " They switched places again, but Kelly used that thick, slobbery cock to slide right into my asshole. Chris got down on his back and slid under me, his cock bobbing with excitement. I held my ass up so Kelly could fuck it, and on the carpet below me, Chris stroked himself while he watched the action, giving me a minute to catch my breath. Kelly was about to come, so he pulled off, "Oh, Baby!" and flicked the side of his dick real hard with his forefingers, trying to keep himself from cumming.
I was still soaking, and Chris was right beneath me. I leaned forward and kissed his mouth. He tasted a little like chewing tobacco. I straddled him and with my feet flat on the floor, I started bobbing up and down on his beautiful dick.
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Kelly must not have been able to see everything he wanted to see (Men are so visual!) So we paused for a minute while he unzipped my skirt and pulled it up and over my head. Then I tossed off my top, and sat naked on Chris’s awesome hard cock and worked it. Kelly wanted to help out. He stuck a finger up my ass, and my sphincter muscles quickly flinched around it. I was rubbing on my clit, and it wasn’t long. I shrieked, and quivered, the orgasm washing over me like the wind through a kite. Kelly grabbed his dick and I opened my mouth, red lipstick lining my white perfect teeth. He jacked it twice while I was twitching and cumming all over Chris’ lap, and thick, creamy cum spurted all over my face. I slurped at it with my tongue, and what I couldn’t reach, Chris wiped up with his finger and put it into my mouth. As I sucked Kelly’s cum off Chris’ finger, Chris cried out and I could feel his lean dick flinch inside of me as he came.
My lunch break was past being over. I pulled on my clothes and ran out to my car. I zipped back to work and rushed back to my computer. My cunt was still throbbing. I really wished I had a little time to get off a little more.
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Like I said, if I’m gonna come, I want to come like a superstar. I think the boss was out for the afternoon. I remember that someone collected him for a round of golf. Whew! I was going to get away with coming back from lunch late.
After I perched on my stool in front of my computer, I opened my legs a little to let the air dry me off a little. The pungent, thick smell of sex was heavy in the office. It felt glorious. I always felt so delectable after sex, smells or not, and it was going to keep me aroused all afternoon. I didn’t know where anyone else was. Old Guy must be late coming back from lunch. I smiled. He was probably in his car, jacking off to the thought of my threesome with Kelly and Chris. He probably wished he was a young stud that could stick his thing inside my wet snatch.
Omigod! All of a sudden, I sat bolt upright. I felt a face between my legs and someone was sucking off that thick cum, sucking off the cream left by the two young studs.
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I glanced down and started laughing. Sure enough, Old Guy was between my pretty thighs, sucking off my juices, sticking a thick tongue into my vagina to slurp up the jizz.
"Oooh, thank you. " I said. "Just what I needed. " I wasn’t attracted to him in particular, but I was so fucking horny and I did want all that sex juice cleaned up.
Old Guy lapped and lapped at my sweet pussy. I don’t know how he fit under the desk–he had to be so cramped!--and I didn’t care. I spread my legs open so he could stick his willing tongue between my purplish pussy lips, still engorged with blood, and I rocked into his face, allowing his tongue to probe me deeper.
"You want to hear about my lunch?" I asked Old Guy.
"I’d love to hear about it. Did you fuck both of them?"
"Uh-huh. "
"Did you have a threesome, or did they take turns?"
"It was a threesome. " I said. "Why don’t you make yourself comfortable, and I’ll tell you all about it.
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"
Our afternoons at the electrical supply house were mostly quiet, so I didn’t worry that someone was going to interrupt. Most contractors wanted to get their business over with in the morning and were at jobsites the rest of the day. I held my thighs open and Old Guy was free to suck and lick, and I gasped and told him play-by-play of my encounter with Chris and Kelly.
Old Guy really knows how to suck pussy!! That’s the thing about doing a bunch of young studs. . . sometimes their techniques are lacking. Old Guy loved hearing about the sex, and he made me tell how I got off, bobbing up and down on Chris’ long shlong, screaming out while the climax ripped through me--he made me tell that part three times. Eventually, he got too cramped under my desk, but not before I got off on his tongue, and he caught all my sweet, pissy spray in his mouth and then clamped down on my tweaking clit with extreme suction until I climaxed again.
Oh he was good!
Before I left to go home, I told him thank you. Of course we were at work, and that wasn’t going to happen every day, but when I drove home, I pulled up my skirt and my fingers strayed to my pussy. I didn’t want to stroke it too much--it needed a break--but my thoughts wandered. What if I come back to work and told Old Guy about all my adventures every day? I’ll bet I can get off four or five times a day!! And that’s before I come home from work. My pussy was all addled-- stretched and stressed from all the activity. Good girl, I thought, patting my puss.
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September 14, 2000
Today, when I came into work, I brought Old Guy a cup of coffee. "Hey Baby," I said, my usual flirtiness coming out in full force. "I just want to tell you thanks again. "
He grinned. I imagine he gave his dick a good workout after I left, or after he got home, sprawled out on the couch with a cocktail. I imagined him watching his pornos--with his drink in one hand, the remote on the arm of the couch and his tired, old dick stretched out with a new enthusiasm as he recalled the afternoon.
"I’m not going to make that a habit. . . " I told him. "But there’s no reason we can’t do that once in awhile. "
"Loved it,"he said. "Anytime. "
So Dear Diary, do you think I have a "problem"??
I knew what he thought of me! He thought I was so hot, he couldn’t stand it. I was the fodder for his masturbating.
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I was his dream girl. He would give just about anything to get between my legs. Even though I didn’t want to "do" him, it was a pretty cool thing to know that someone wanted me so bad. .
