It's probably a good idea to tell you something about myself. You may call me Catherine, not Cathy, a good looking woman of about thirty years. You will note that I will not give too much detail about myself, be it visually or background, as I do wish to remain slightly anonymous. It's best to start with how I grew up. While a lot of people will probably think nymphomania would be the result of bad experiences or traumatic events, this is often not the case. In my case it was just there, part of who I was, like my intelligence or the color of my eyes. I still remember the odd feeling, almost an itch, that started even before I got my first period.
It took quite some time until I understood what that itch even was, exploring myself in the shower until I found that rubbing myself in certain places brought very, very pleasurable results. While it was tempting to experiment with just everything, I was smart enough to hide my little explorations away from the world. But it always continued. A few years later in school, for example, it was common for me to have a sort of vibrating egg inside of me, that I could use to make myself orgasm without even touching myself. Some sort of weight or spring inside the egg would cause it to move every time I did. It almost became a sport, the thrill of orgasm in the middle of class without anyone knowing. It wasn't until human physiology and procreation came up, as part of biology, that I realized what I was doing and that other people, specifically boys, could aid in my pleasure.
The major reason why it hadn't occurred to me before was my family. Nice as they were, they didn't spend much time being flirty or intimate with each other. It gave me the feeling that what I felt was a secret only known to me, which I intended to keep. But now that I found out that the whole world knew about this, my curiosity was definitely piqued. I read a lot about procreation before I even attempted to approach a guy for experimentation. I wasn't exactly unpopular, but to me guys were mostly annoying creatures that other girls liked to kiss for some reason. They had their interesting moments, as the differences between us did fascinate me, and it had definitely occurred to me that a sort of interest shift had been going on the past year. So, a plan was formed.
My periods had just started by now and they didn't really help in calming me down. In fact, it seemed my body was even more sensitive on the days that my womb was trying to rid itself of yet another unfertilized egg. I didn't mind of course, as to me it meant that a tampon and slightly rough cotton panties made it very easy to both protect myself and pleasure myself wherever I wanted. Anyway, it meant that I had to obtain some form of protection. While I did want to feel everything, on short notice a condom would do and one was obtained. The store clerk raised an eyebrow at my approach with the item, but once explained that we needed it for class he just nodded and smiled. My always honest, clear bright voice never suggesting any ulterior motive. It was mostly true anyway, I needed it for a private lesson.
Finding the right guy was another matter altogether. While I was aroused(I knew the word now) almost all the time and eagerly wanted to do something, I was well aware that men were not equal. I chose a guy that wasn't too popular but wasn't the butt of every joke. An average Joe in many ways, almost completely as I found out later. Under the guise of meeting for studies, he easily agreed for me to come back with him after school. His parents, as I knew, usually worked late so we would be in the house alone. The stage was set, the players present, the lights on. Time for action.
Even with the all knowledge I had from my books, the result was, in hindsight, hilarious. I made sure to go to the toilet beforehand to remove the two toy-eggs I had in me that day. My nerves were better than I thought, actually. I even cleaned myself a little bit with water so my vagina would be not too wet before he touched it. It was cute, he actually did just want to study and we did. My suspicions of his intelligence confirmed as well as his usefulness as a study-mate, but that wasn't my intention at the moment. It took patience and some coaxing until he finally wanted to kiss. And kissing was quite nice! From there on it was easy to rub over his chest and pants to get him aroused, all was still going according to plan.
Moments later I was holding his average penis in my hand, rubbing it softly partly out of curiosity, partly of lust. It was, luckily, a clean one and it didn't smell bad. He almost exploded the instance my tongue licked over it. It was something, I decided, I would investigate another time. But first I wanted to feel him inside of me. He was too far gone to even be surprised by me having a condom, let alone putting it on him. He probably didn't even realize what I was doing, to him it all felt good. It was cute to see him on his back on the floor, his young dick sticking out proudly in the sky, his breathing irregular and his face flushed with pleasure. With some minor fumbling I managed to apply the condom, the instructions on the box had been very helpful.
Not even undressing, just pulling my panties aside and lifting my skirt a little bit, I sat down on top of him, enjoying the feeling of rubbing his rubberised rod against me. And, apparently, making him cum. With more surprise than disappointment, I felt him quiver beneath me, feeling his member becoming flaccid inside the latex. I moved a little bit more, hoping it would re-erect soon but it didn't. Even inside the condom, the feeling of my warm wetness so close to it was apparently too much. I understood enough of the basics to know that to try and get him inside of me while soft was close to impossible. I hadn't read far enough in biology yet to know about the differences between male and female orgasms to understand what was going on. I fully expected him to be up and about in seconds.
But he wasn't.
I didn't become angry as I decided it was something I had to investigate more. I allowed him to clean up and enjoyed the look on his face when he realized that he'd spewed his lust into a container rather than on his or my clothes. He even asked me if that was a condom and where I'd got it. His eyes might have popped out when I told him my answer, they couldn't have been more open. Unfortunately I felt unfulfilled and asked him to lick me between my legs, to let me feel good as well.
Definitely one of my better ideas.
He was clumsy, inexperienced and easily tired. But it was the first time I ever felt someone else touch me. Even his fingers, moving around my labia to explore, were heaven sent. Not better than my own, but different. And different was good! I didn't shy away from instructing him where to touch, where to lick. He brought me to several orgasms, most of which he probably didn't even notice, his own nerves blinding the experience. He never really got the hang of it though, a pity as he was innocent enough to play with again if he had been.
It was only the beginning of how I started to use men.