Diary of a Nympho

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Diary of a Nymphomaniac by FyreSeptember 1, 2000Dear 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. 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.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. 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, 2000Dear 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