Nympho Girl

So September last year Erik surprised me with this: “Why don’t you come with me on my next business trip?” That was a surprise. His company doesn’t pay for that sort of thing, so it was purely a gift. Erik has a job that takes him to all kinds of glamorous places, and usually I get some nice gifts like a fine silk scarf from Turin, an expensive handbag from Paris, and even a cuckoo clock from Zurich. But I’ve never gone on a business trip with him.

Needless to say, I was excited.

“Where are we going?” I asked. “Germany. I have some business in Bremerhaven. Bremerhaven is pretty much an industrial city. Basically, it’s the port city for Bremen, which is one of the oldest port and trading cities in Europe. Bremen is a beautiful, picturesque city off the beaten tourist path. I think you’ll love it. From there we can do some driving. We could easily visit a number of cities using Bremen as a base: Hamburg, Berlin, Cologne, and even Amsterdam.”

Well, it was short notice, but Kelsey, my boss, agreed it was too good an opportunity to miss, so she agreed to let me take a week of vacation, and so I started planning. I had a week to get ready.

The first thing I did was to sit down at my computer and learn as much as I could about Bremen and Northern Germany, and the more I read, the more interested I became in visiting this ancient city.

Luckily, I already had a passport from a trip to the UK my parents took me on as a high school graduation gift. Erik’s company made the arrangements for us. I made a number of lists of things I needed to do, things I needed to buy, things I wanted to bring, arrangements with neighbors to collect our mail, and so on. I’m a pretty organized gal, but even so, preparing for a major trip like this with very little warning frazzled me.

Even so, before I knew it I found myself on a neat & tidy Lufthansa jet over the Atlantic, its nose pointed directly at Frankfurt where, after a sleepless “night,” Erik and I changed to a smaller plane for a shuttle to the old Hanseatic city-state of Bremen, Germany, where we passed through Customs.

Erik rented a silver-gray Mercedes and drove us to the hotel he usually stays at, which is across the way from the famed Bremer Hauptbahnhof (main train station.

After crashing for a few hours, Erik took me on a walking tour from the hotel which eventually took us to an old town with areas named Boettcherstraße and Schnoor (photos of these and several other locations I have or will mention can be found HERE (note that there are two pages of pics). Boettcherstraße and Schnoor are very narrow cobblestone streets (too harrow for trucks or even cars, and so they are essentially footpaths). They are much like the arts-oriented areas of many cities, with artist studios and craft shops interspersed with trendy cafes and fine restaurants. Of the two, Schnoor is the better preserved and Boettcherstraße is the more “yuppified.”

On our way back to the hotel, he took me to a famed seafood restaurant. Bremen is a port city and is thus oriented toward seafood. I had the most heavenly sole with boiled new potatoes and a salad of pickled vegetables. This was followed by delectable Bremer coffee (Bremen is probably the coffee capital of Germany, if not Western Europe). I desserted on cheesecake.

Afterward, we returned to the hotel and tried to get a good night’s sleep in a city six hours ahead of our own time zone.

But first—and after taking a quick shower together—I rewarded Erik by letting him tie me up with my feet behind my head and my hands behind my back using several of his silk neckties. He then proceeded to play with my body, starting with my breasts. He likes puffy nipples and whenever he’s around, my nipples get extra hard and sensitive, so even though I don’t need a bra, I usually wear one. Otherwise, my breasts become sore from rubbing against the fabric of my top.

I invited him into my mouth and let him force his 10-incher far back. I’m long past gagging on cocks, and so he was able to fuck my throat for a couple minutes. Then, pulling my head back, I worked my tongue and lips all over his glans, being careful not to force him to cum. I don’t mind getting shot in the mouth (I’m a swallower), but I wanted things to last a bit longer.

And they did…

Next, he turned his attention to my clit and vulva, giving them a long, hard licking and probing the depths of my vagina with his fingers and tongue. Moving down to my anus, he stuck his tongue way deep, giving me a small fit of shivers and shakes, partly for the unusual feeling itself and partly in anticipation of what inevitably comes next: the entrance of his long, thick shaft far into my ass.

When that happened, I started thinking all the sexy thoughts I could think of, because normally I would be masturbating furiously while being fucked in the ass. When tied up, I have to do the mental equivalent of playing with my pussy.

I thought about my earliest sexual experiences and my most recent. I thought of the night Erik and I met. I imagined my pussy being licked by Kelsey, my boss, and I imagined a three-way (which had never happened) between her and Erik and me. And finally…the one that brought it all back home, I thought about being alone in a barn, in formal dressage gear, taking an immense load of cum in my mouth as I sucked the cock of a gorgeous chestnut thoroughbred stallion.

We slept well, but still awoke groggy because we still hadn’t adjusted to the time difference. I now appreciated how tired Erik could be upon returning from a trip abroad, which often took him much further afield than even Europe (his company has offices and clients in Indonesia, South Africa, Buenos Aires, and Australia as well).

That first day, we explored Bremen further. I saw a huge windmill, the Karstadt department store, and a famous bronze statue installation of pigs on SÖgestraße (Sow Street). We had an early afternoon lunch at a sausage stand (the Germans make such heavenly sausages, which you hold with little tiny buns that have been cut in half for that purpose…delicious!).

In the afternoon, we walked over to the town square which has a gigantic statue of the medieval semi-mythical hero, Roland. On this square is the Bremer Dom (or in English, Bremen’s Cathedral). We sat there on the square watching street musicians and basking in the sun while drinking Bremen’s heavenly Jacobs Kaffee in front of a cafe restaurant on the edge of the square.

We then walked to the city park (the one with the aforementioned windmill) and strolled along the water, observing old people and families walking along the paths and enjoying the late afternoon luxuries of their little-known but prosperous port city.

As the sun began to set, we made our way back to the square, this time going into the famed Ratskeller (the most famous in all of Germany) and drank Rhine wine with German locals and Australian businessmen and African students for hours and hours. When we left, my world was a little akilter and we had two African boys (starting freshmen at the Universität Bremen) in tow.

We all went back to our hotel, walking past the attractive young desk girl, who gave us a knowing smile. Obviously, she could tell from our behavior, that we were all getting ready for some major fun.

The names (or, rather, nicknames) of the two boys were Jombo and Spike. Both were skinny as rails and at least 6′2″, but Jombo had a close-shaved head with a nice round babyface and Spike had a narrow face framed in the most extravagant and outrageous dreads. He bore a certain resemblance to Bob Marley.

We all crowded into the rather large shower stall and enjoyed washing each other for at least a half hour. I particularly enjoyed soaping up their long penises and making them hard so that I could barely move without bumping into them.

Erik was there to watch, so he played with himself and soon I had three erect cocks to deal with!

What’s a girl to do?!!!

What she did is declare she’d meet them back in bed as she jumped out of the shower and dried off

One thing I soon discovered is that both of our African friends are very bisexual, because almost as soon as Jombo’s tongue touched my pussy, I saw Spike mounting him from behind.

So, there I am laying on my back, Jombo’s mouth firmly fixed on my pussy, Spike’s cock moving in and out of Jombo’s ass, and both of them looking at my face and enjoying watching all the expressions I made as Jombo expertly teased my clit and labia.

Erik, who had been sitting in a chair across the room observing the goings on, had been playing with himself. But now he got up and walked over with one of his silk ties. It was my own favorite, gray with wide red stripes framed in thin blue stripes. He tied it around my head, blindfolding me.

Using another tie, he tied my hands together, palms up. Jombo is licking away. Then Erik put my hands behind my head and, using yet another tie, which he ran through the bonds on my wrists, he tied the loose ends around my neck. It was slightly tight, such that I had to force my arms to stay there, or I could feel the tie around my neck tighten. And so, on pain of passing out, I had to concentrate on keeping my arms in place.

Meanwhile, Jombo is still licking away, his rhythms in counter point to the thrusts of Spike in his ass. I think spike came but kept on fucking, since I heard distinct smacking and sucking sounds coming from that direction.

Just as I started to think about this, however, I felt large fingers enter my mouth. Two of them…or three. I’m not sure. They tasted salty-sweaty. It was the hand with which Erik had been jacking himself off. He was trying to see if he could make me choke, but I have my gag reflex under very good control, as I have already said. It’s very hard to make me gag.

The next thing I knew, a familiar shape and taste was in my mouth. It was Erik’s cock. I tipped my head back to let him hump my head.

Jombo slipped his cock deep into pussy. I could tell it was still Jombo because Erik was in my mouth, and by now Spike was tapping and smacking my face with his rather aromatic penis, which was giving off the pungent aroma of Jombo’s asshole.

I rolled from my back to my knees and Erik untied my hands. I assumed the doggy position, still blindfolded, and allowed Erik into my mouth again. Jombo, who had turned with me, was back in inside, humping my cunt vigorously, and soon enough, I felt Spike’s cock urging itself against my anal sphincter which, soon enough, surrendered to his gigantic member, allowing him deep into my ass.

When I say Spike went in deep, it’s an understatement. It’s a weird feeling to have a 12″ or 14″ dick in you, even in your vagina. In your ass, there’s no sensation like it, and I fought off orgasm with a grim determination.

And then, pain! Erik had grabbed his belt and was whipping my back with it. It really hurt (but in that “It hurts so good!” kind of way). I bit his cock slightly, but he only whipped me harder, which I knew he would. We had done this at home several times before.

Unfortunately, the whipping was wearing down my ability to hold off orgasm, and so I came. Massively. Remember: I’m a squirter, so Jombo’s cock and balls were soaked, as was the bed. When Spike realized what had happened, he laughed, but kept on humping a bit more, giving me a couple more orgasms.

At last, I felt a white hot load of cum on my back.

Erik rolled me on my back again, and laid his cock on my lips. I teased it with my lips and tongue until I felt him squirt all over my chin and chest.

Jombo, who still hadn’t come, took over for Erik, jacking off into my mouth. When he was done, I sucked the last of his jizz of his dick…and swallowed.

By then, it was nearly 4 a.m. After a more sombre shower than before…one involving much embracing and kissing, and after drying off, we did our best to clean up the bed and generally tidy up. The bed was gigantic and I refused to sleep on the wet spot, but Jombo volunteered for that duty. What a sweetie.

We all had a delicious buffet lunch at the hotel restaurant, accompanied by some huge frosty steins of Bremen’s famous Beck’s Beer.

We parted with hugs—and I had to remind all the guys that I had a very sore back from the night before. Erik even invited them to visit us if ever they were out our way. I don’t know if this meant he might waive the usual rule that we only have sex with members of the opposite sex once. I would certainly never ask for an exception because “a deal is a deal,” but I’d certainly welcome another bout with those boys.

I saw that 40 year old virgin movie recently, and it got me thinking about something I did just before I graduated from high school.

There was this guy unfortunately named Wally who, because he wore glasses was called “Walleye.” I’m not sure they called him that because his eyes looked like fish eyes behind those glasses or if they wrongly thought he was “walleyed.” Walleyedness is ambiguously defined as either an eye with a translucent or opaque obscurance on the cornea or over the iris, or as an eye that diverges to the outside. He had no such conditions, but he did wear big black-rimmed round glasses.

Now, sex had been going around school like wildfire the senior year and everyone seemed to know who had “done it” and who had not, and Wally was one of those widely referred to as “a virg.”

As you may have figured out, I’m pretty well read and am a pretty bright cookie. I had never had any classes with Wally until my senior year. I knew him by reputation (as “Wally the virg”) but in English class I discovered, to my dismay at the time (because like most girls of that age, I was trying not to appear too smart) that he was one of the few bright people in the class and didn’t mind seeming uncool by giving thoughtful answers to the teacher’s questions.

In fact, he emboldened me as well, and Miss Urbana soon discovered that she actually had a smart girl in the class.

I began to find my eyes wandering to Wally all the time, realizing that he really wasn’t such a bad looking guy at all, as became clear on those rare occasions when he took those incredible glasses off.

I myself had lost my virginity a few months earlier, and by then had probably had sex several dozen times with this or that boy or girl or various combinations thereof, and considered myself a kind of missionary for sex. I was carrying it to those parts of my little world where it was needed. So, I wasn’t banging the star quarterback or the school’s prettiest girl. No, I banged a lot but I banged those who intrigued me. I had by then deflowered a few classmates, but Wally was someone I was growing to care about, and so hearing him referred to so frequently in terms of contempt began to grate.

Let me describe Wally a little further. Tall, a bit skinny, pale skin and almost-black hair in a bit of a buzz cut.

Toward the end of my last term in senior high, I was fending off invitations to the Prom from guys who knew my reputation for being free with sex and were hoping for a prom night score. I really was planning on not going just to spite them all, when instead I decided to ask Wally if he’d be my date.

If anyone was going to lose his virginity on Prom Night, it would be Wally!

So, I cornered him at his locker after English class a few weeks before the Prom and asked him, “Do you have a date for the Prom yet?” Wally gulped and said “N-n-n-no,” totally mystified and frightened by getting such an unexpected question by one of the school sluts. He followed this up with a tentative, “Why? Actually, I was thinking of not going, so not I don’t have a date for the Prom. Did you have a friend who needs a date, because (gesturing across and down the hall) Jason…”

I stopped him, and said, “I don’t have a date yet. I mean, I could have. I’ve turned down a few guys. Nobody I really wanted to go with asked me. I thought I’d ask you if you’d like a date. Would you?”

I could see he was trying to read me to see if I was in on a joke that’d make him look ridiculous, so I reassured him, “This isn’t a joke. You may have noticed, I’m not someone who hangs out with any of the cliques. I’m not a jock bitch, I’m not one of the teen queens, I’m not one of the dopers. I’m a loner like you. I do what I want and I want to go to the Prom with you.”

He was dumbfounded, and not wanting him to feel ambushed or pressured, I said, “Well, let me know.”

A day or two went by where he’d acknowledge me but wouldn’t speak. I was beginning to think he was too shy to get off the dime when, after I left the school building one day and was walking home, he caught up with me and said, “Okay. I’ll be your Prom date.” I smiled and gave him a little hug, leaning my cheek into his shoulder. A few days later he called and we made arrangements.

Prom night arrived. Wally arrived in his dad’s Taurus in a surprisingly well-fitting rented tux. At lest it was a black tux. I anticipated correctly that a lot of the guys would show up in powder blue jobbies. Wally had taste, or could take advice from someone with taste.

My own dad gave him the obligatory (tongue-in-cheek) hard time about how if anything happened to his precious little daughter there’d be hell to pay, and a shallow grave out in the woods was hinted hat. Finally, dad just slapped him on the back, winked and said, “Just kidding. You kids have a good time and drive safely.” As we got out near the car my mom added, “And no drinking…PLEASE!”

“All right, mom!” I yelled, with absolutely no intention of obeying her (which I’m sure she knew).

Wally didn’t talk much, so I kept the conversation going. The dance started at 8, but
you know there are people who don’t want to be early. When we got there, it was mostly the school’s losers, pretty much outnumbered at that time by the many chaperones the school had provided.

When no one was looking, I took Wally by the hand and dragged him out into the hall and around the corner where I bought us two cans of Pepsi. Then we went to the library, which was dark. I told him to follow me. The library had these small soundproof study rooms with a small table and a couple chairs. I had obtained four of those little liquor bottles you get on airplanes. Vodka. I opened the cokes and, asking Wally to do the same, took a couple of gulps out of my can. I dumped two vodkas into each can and said “Cheers!”

Well, we sat there with me talking at first, but as the alcohol took hold Wally got more chatty and really started to talk about himself, his family, the future he was planning for himself (wanted to become a winemaker!).

Anyway, I started touching him: putting my hand on his hand, my hand on his knee, touching my calf to his. Before long, he was starting to touch me back. I got up and sat on his lap, straddling his legs and facing him with my dress pulled up to my hips. Even with the slit up the side, it was too tight to open my legs much any other way.

I could feel his boner against my crotch. “I want to fuck you,” I blurted. “I…uh…uh,” he started to say. “Yes, I know. You’ve never done it, have you?” “No,” he admitted. “Well,” I said with a laugh, “tonight’s your lucky night.” I reached down and fondled him through his pants. He was hard. Really hard. “All you have to do,” I told him, “is earn it.” “How?” “By dancing. You’re going to ask me to dance every dance and every time I accept, you’ll dance.”

He paused, so I said, “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll want some punch and snacks, too. But you’ll be doing a lot of dancing tonight, okay?” Finally, he laughed and agreed.

“Well, cowboy,” I told him. “Let’s get rid of that hard-on and go back to the dance. I can hear the band playing.”

A rather bad local band was trying to play a covers of current hip-hop, alternative and selected classics by Nine Inch Nails Ministry, with the result that the alternative sounded a bit like hip-hop, the hip-hop sounded a little bit industrial, and everything was just all hilariously mixed up like that. Maybe it was the vodka, but it seemed only Wally and I were in on the joke!

Well, I could tell that we were the center of attention. What in the world is that nerdy Wally doing with one of the schools most sought-after pieces of ass? It was well known I was a slut, but equally well-known that I wasn’t the type to try fuck my way to the top of the pecking order. Still, Wally was the only person I’d been seen with who was so clearly nerd material.

Wally asked me for every dance as he promised, and while getting off to a slow start, was pretty loose and actually not half bad by the time the dance winding down.

I had him drive us out to the local necking spot, a park with a parking lot right on a small lake. Often at night, there was a rippling reflection of the moon on the dark water, and tonight was a full moon night.

After we parked, I sat there looking at him until he got the hint and scooted over, putting his arm around me and putting his lips on mine. “Never been kissed!” I thought to myself, so I showed him how to kiss, and before long he was frenching me expertly. Turns out, he was a natural!

I had to put his hand on my breast at first, but he figured out how to pull my spaghetti straps down which allowed him to expose my breasts. He then turned his attention to them while I groped until I figured out how to release his cock. When I got it out, it was very warm and as hard as steel. I couldn’t wait to get it in me.

“Let’s get out,” I suggested. He agreed. We were both way too confined in the car. So, I got out and he followed, his pecker waving in the night air, my boobs equally exposed. I took him by the hand and we walked in front of the car where there was maybe twenty feet of lawn between the parking lot and river. We were maybe a yard in front of the bumper of the car.

My dress was down to my belly from the top and I hiked it up to my waist from the bottom. I had left home with no undies or bra. He was a different story. He resisted, but I was able to tug his trousers off first, and then his jockeys.

I ordered him to lay back and relax, and in an instant his cock was in my mouth. I circled his cock with my tongue and licked the shaft up and down. Meanwhile, he was saying “Oh God, Jill, oh God…oh my fucking GOD!” and stuff like that.

I did everything a mouth can do to a cock. I licked it and sucked it. I sucked his balls and licked his balls. I was glad to see that he wasn’t a “minute man” who would cum at the drop of a hat. He could hold his own, so…

I started sucking that cock of his so much the harder and then (having licked it) worked my “fuck you” finger up his asshole, massaging his prostate gently. (You have to massage it gently or your guy can pass out! It’s a very sensitive part of his body!)

And still he didn’t cum. I was impressed! What could make him cum?

I stood up and quickly got rid of my dress. Now I was clad in nothing but thigh-highs and heels. I sat on his cock facing him and, grasping his cock hard with my pussy muscles, I started fucking him as hard as I could. I put my lips on his and we frenched him as I fucked. Surely I would get him off with this.

I was wrong!

He was into it, I could tell, but I wanted nothing more than to get him off, and so I switched gears. Releasing his cock from my pussy, I reached back and grabbed it. Grasping it firmly, I positioned myself until I felt it pressing against my asshole and then I sat on it slowly until it was well in. Grasping it with my sphincter, I worked my ass up and down, up and down, all the while keeping my eyes fixed on Wally’s face. His eyes were mostly closed, but whenever they opened he saw me looking at him with affection.

By now, his hips were working with me (or rather against me, to maximize friction), and I, balanced on two knees and one hand, was masturbating furiously.

I had had sex a few times by then as I said, and I could recognize from his breathing and voice that he was getting close.

I hopped off him, grabbed his cock and jerked it hard, my mouth open wide, until he shot his wad into my mouth and all over my face. I’ve never seen so much in my life! I think I was getting pent-up jizz from all his sexless years. It wasn’t just profuse, it was thick and gooey and as white as Elmer’s Glue.

I kissed him hard, depositing a good deal of semen into his mouth. He swallowed it and kissed me back.

He rolled me onto my back, parted my legs and kissed me some more, for maybe four or five minutes and then I felt his cock enter my pussy. He started fucking me. Wow! What a guy! He cums and then gets hard again in just a few minutes and sets about making sure I get mine as well!

I think that’s when I fell in love with Wally.

He banged me and banged me hard, paying attention to my mouth and tits without losing a beat.

He pulled out briefly, pushed my legs up to my shoulders and slid his cock into my ass, fucking me harder than ever.

Now, if you’ve been following my stories, you know that backdoor is my favorite kind of poking, but it’s hard to masturbate (which is what makes the whole thing work), so I told him I loved being fucked that way, but it would be better from behind, so he pulled out and I rolled onto my tummy.

As I did so, I noticed that we were not alone. In fact, a circle of kids had surrounded us. Guys in black or powder blue tuxes and girls in prom dresses with corsages on their chests or wrists. I could see that Wally hadn’t noticed, and so I didn’t say anything. Why? First, I wanted my orgasm. Second, I wanted them to see him fuck me so that they would never call him “the virg” again.

And so I was there on my tummy, raising my ass as much as I could to help him fuck it, and once he was inside I found his rhythm and helped him maximize the friction. Meantime, I’m frantically massaging my dripping wet clit and labia

When at last I came, I came hard. Screaming loudly, I pushed him off and squirted hard, covering my legs all the way down to my toes with whatever it is you call that stuff we squirt when we squirt..

At this time, the crowd around us, now much larger, let out a whoop and a holler and broke into deafening applause.

Wally was laying on his back, his pecker still hard but going down fast. I stood up and wriggled back into my dress.

I heard guys say “Wally, I never knew you had it in ya! What a stud!” He was suddenly the center of attention. Now, as a nympho, I like attention, but this was as I had planned it. He would no longer be “the virg” ever again. He’d banged one of the school’s leading sluts and he’d done it with witnesses.

Wally was my boyfriend for the next few months. When he joined the Army, we had to part. I had my own plans which had me staying in Ohio. He came back to visit a few times and we got together and had good sex, but we both knew we’d soon be going our separate ways.

Only I had no idea how separate our ways would be.

After a year or so, he wrote to tell me he had met the love of his life and to ask my blessing, and of course I gave it. Along came one daughter and then two. He has e-mailed me photos from time to time of him and his kids and his wife Jan. I am happy that he’s happy. I have never stopped loving him. (Yes, it’s true: nymphos can love!).

On those nights when Erik is off on one of his frequent business trips, and I need a potent masturbation fantasy, my mind often turns to prom night, when Wally “the virg” boned me in front of a good deal of the senior class.