What made me a Nympho

What made me a Nympho

I love sex. I am probably the closest thing to a nyphomaniac there is. Hello, my name is Debra, and from the time I was three years old, I have been obsessed with sex. From the age of three, I was surrounded by pornographic material daily. My father had dirty magazines lying everywhere in the bedroom that I shared with him, as my parents split when I was two. Why, at such a young and tender age would it affect me so strongly, I have no answers. But I believe one of the biggest influences on me was a memory of going to work with my dad between the ages of three and four. I have the age pretty accurate because he only worked there until I was five. One Saturday afternoon, my father carried me to his job as a projectionist in a sleazy little triple x theatre. Don’t have no explanation as to why. Never asked. But I do remember sitting in the darkened theatre being taken care of by some young man that worked there with him. His job apparently was to cover my eyes with his right hand the duration of the movie. He must have been in his early teens, I do recall that, and he did not take his job of hiding the flick from me too seriously. That, or me being very curious and sliding up and down in my seat may also had been a factor, too. But in all its glory, hard-core fucking appeared on a gigantic screen in front of me. Naked men and women doing everything. I was fascinated with the big thing that made all the women scream and make all sorts of crying sounds. I also noticed there were no “mommies” or girls any where around us in the theatre. Only lots and lots of men. Smoke filled and cloudy, the small, blackened room was filled with a musky, sweaty odor. I did notice the one thing most of these men had in common. They were touching themselves down there. Their hands were touching and moving around on their private areas. Even my baby-sitters hand had disappeared down his waistband. I couldn’t see the thing that I realized kept seeing get all the attention on the screen. I actually recall wanting to see this thing of such greatness that women were bowing before, down on their knees on the screen in front of me. But before we did leave to go back to dads apartment, I finally did get to see one. Up close and personal.

I had to go to the restroom and don’t know where my sitter went, or how I ended up in the mens room, I was greeted to the sight of about six or seven men relieving themselves in what I now know were urinals. One of the gents pointed out to the others that they had a little visitor amongst them and they burst into fits of laughter. I remember everyone of them were dressed in suit jackets and ties and they appeared to be nice and friendly. I did not feel afraid around these strangers. Not even when the one who first noticed me walked over to where I stood, still holding himself and literally shoved it into my face.Shaking it rapidly, he wanted to know what I thought about his “penis”. This ensued even more guffaws of laughter and I remember they all surrounded me for a moment, every one of their cocks pointed towards me. Their laughter made their cocks bounce around erratically. I stared in utter fascination at the different sizes and varieties that was in front of me. A few of the men left the room and the remaining three seemed proud to be showing off in front of me. They would ask me did I like looking at their cock or dick or penis, each one calling it something else. I remember shaking my head yes and this seem to make them very happy. One of them proceeded to lock the door behind me while the other two whispered something amongst themselves. Smiling, the one who pointed my presence to the others asked me if I wanted to see what they could do with their dicks. I readily agreed, glued to the spot I stood at, a strange sensation shooting from my belly button and down in between me legs and deep into my “monkey”. This made me gasp.I looked down towards the bottom of my dress when one of them asked me if something was wrong. I told them no, and when I said this, they all started to laugh again. Two of them now had their pants down around there ankles and were pulling on their cocks. Yanking and stroking them, I was stunned how they were becoming bigger and fatter looking. The third told me that I needed to make sure there was nothing wrong with my “monkey”, and that I should pull my panties down like they had their drawers, pull up my dress and feel down there to make sure. I remembered no hestitation, and I actually did touch myself. I gasped at an unfamiliar wetness I had never felt and when I pulled my finger up to inspect it, the men began moaning loudly and told me “Watch this sweetie” and as if taking turns,one after the other began shooting white creamy streams of stuff all over the wall beside me and on the floor at my feet. When the regained their composure, one of them pulled my panties back up, straightened my clothing and led me back to a room where my father was drinking with a few buddies, smoking a cigarette. I swear to this day, he looked over and winked at the man who brought me back to him. But we never discussed what happened or where I was..
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So from this day forward, I touched myself each and every day. I looked at every magazine I could get my hands on. At six, I was our neighborhoods first “girl” doctor and the boys appreciated their check-ups very much. When I had my first orgasm at eleven, it was the greatest feeling I had ever experienced. I had been rubbing my clit with back and forth, the feeling was getting stronger and greater, creating a sensation I never felt before. With my left hand, I slid my finger from underneath and touched my sweet virginal opening that was literally dripping sweet fluid onto my mattress. I slowly inserted my finger, little by little in this hot slick opening, actually pretending that I was getting raped by the Oompa Loompas from Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.