The Inner Workings of a Nymphomaniac

THE INNER WORKINGS OF A NYMPHOMANIAC

She had come a long way since. Culture and society had held her back.
At least they thought so. And she did too. For a time.
That's when she found out. A mistake that was threatening to change her life forever. For better or for worse. She would come to the conclusion after the next thousand escapades at least. That's how she felt at the moment.

A mistake. An honest mistake. Bathing herself while staying with grandma. She was the only family after the accident. She bathed. And lathered. And scrubbed. Foam and suds everywhere. Bubbles of different shapes and temperaments afloat. That's when it happened. She can never forget the colour. Pale green. Or was it blue? She'd have to remember later. But she swore she'd never forget. The bar of soap was in her grasp as she washed her sacred place. Not sacred anymore, that's for sure!



And suddenly it slid in, slipping from her grasp and going in which such urgency as though it needed to teach her something. She reached to get it out. That's when it hit her. The sensation of cold. The sensation of heat. Alternating with such palpable frequency she could swear it matched her heartbeat perfectly. She gasped, shocked that she was enjoying this. She didn't know what ecstasy her lady garden could give her. She thought it was only for urinating. Boy was she wrong!

Just coming into puberty and never before having such a feeling, she decided to explore and investigate. All the while longing for that feeling. And so she decided to go back. She'd pretend to have baths so frequently her grandmother began to wonder. But these were not baths. She was far from the mortal trenches of this place. Euphoria had snatched her above the clouds.

Soon soap bars didn't cut it. Inanimate objects of different varieties found their way to a higher purpose. Well sanitized of course. She would have them no other way.
Biology and sex education classes didn't do much. Such prudes! Peers did help a little. Films called "blue" for no apparent reason showed her that she had been going about this whole thing the wrong way. She needed a missing ingredient. A male counterpart. To counteract her parts. And she needed it fast.

But she didn't dare. Hell no! Two people had been caught in the toilet and it was full on shame! People she knew indulged in this pastime were the first to cast stones. As if expulsion wasn't enough. Hell no!
But that's what she thought.
Until she met him.

At the corner of the school's fence. The farthest from the school's facilities. She had come to pick some flowers she knew only grew there. She needed them for arts and craft.
And that's when she saw him.

He was leaning against the wall. Face forward with his back towards her. And he seemed to be shivering. Tall and lean. And he wasn't wearing the school's uniform. So who was he? Staff? No. Security? No. Well that didn't matter. She needed to find out if he needed help. And he sensed her. And turned to face her.

His eyebrows. Dark. Thick. Too thick. Seemingly endless and unnatural. They made him look primordial. Primal. He was dark too. But she was just so distracted by those features. And his eyebrows made him look fierce. Like he could rip her to shreds. And strangely, she decided that she wouldn't be able to stop if him if he did. His features glistening in the heat of the sun.

And that's when she noticed it. What he held in his firm grasp. And she gasped. For a couple of reasons.
One.
She was shocked.
Two.
Did it really grow to such a size?
Three
She realised what he was doing and why he had been shivering before.
There were no words between them.

She just blanked out. And when she came to, she realised that she was standing so close to him that she could feel his stale breath. Now she could see that he was handsome. Or maybe it was his eyebrows. And she began to feel a warmth in her hand slowly throbbing. And she looked down. And there it was. That magnificent monstrosity, throbbing in her hand.
She gave it a tug. And he moaned. And her heart started skipping. Her mouth tasted so salty.

He gently pulled her to him, his weapon still in her hand. He slid his fingers between her moist thighs and found what he wanted. That thing that millions of years of evolution have carved to be the ruin and downfall of many a man.
And before she could do anything, he had taken what was his back and from her and put it where it should be.

But there was no way he could have known he was her first. And quite frankly he didn't care. But she felt a white flash of pain shoot up her spine. But there was something more. She couldn't explain.

He lay her down amongst the grass, the red flowers she had planned to pluck a while ago seemingly blushing, as though ashamed of what they were witnessing.
He came out. And went in. Slow at first. Then faster. The rhythm soothed her. Thrust and throb. Thrust and throb. She felt the full force of his penis. His pain. His passion. His perversion. And within her she grew more damp. It felt larger than it even looked. And she could swear that for the first time she could feel colour, as she tasted dark and black and just saw dark and black in her mind's eye.

And suddenly she felt something. But she wasn't sure. It felt like her stomach was being torn apart. And something inside her shuddered, in a strange but pleasant way. But she was scared. And the feeling grew with every plunge he made into her murky depths. And suddenly an explosion. She had never been epileptic but she could have sworn she was having a seizure. She shuddered violently as turbulent waters shook within her and burst free. She had just experience the throes of her first climax. She had never had this before. Not with all the things she had used and all the things she had done.

Wet, damp, sticky and covered with her liquid, he too shuddered. And he shuddered some more. And she could feel it throbbing so violently. It felt like a snake that had gone up the wrong way and was trapped, struggling to burst out from anywhere. And she felt warmth shooting up inside her for a few seconds. And that's when she realised that he had just experienced what she had just undergone a few minutes before.

He pulled out. Panting. Zipping up his trousers, he offered to help her up. But she didn't answer. She lay very still, eyes closed, with her lips slightly parted in a smile. Thinking he had killed her, he quickly disappeared into the bushes from whence he came, not wanting to be seen at the scene of the crime.

But she wasn't dead. Although she also wasn't fully on earth. She was somewhere she couldn't fathom. She felt warmth. And cold. And tingly. And a billion emotions rushing through at the speed of light. A feeling that could not be put into words. But all she knew was that she had to experience it again. And again. And again. Until she could grasp the limits of this space, this place where she found herself wandering in in the clouds. She left her classroom a girl. However, she returned to the same classroom a woman. Not before she cleaned up in the locker room.

And as she took a bunch of flowers back to class, the irony hit her. She had just lost her flower, and there she was, holding the same.
But it didn't matter, because every time she did it, it felt like the first time. And each time was better than the last. And she kept at it. Creating a void that could only be filled with the very same thing creating the void. But it was who she was. And who she is.
She had come a long way from bathroom business, and it was too late to turn back now.

💦stanlley horsea