Family member is a nymphomaniac
‘It’s not my fault. I just can’t bloody help it.’ How often had she repeated those words to herself, always those same sentences rattling around inside her head? She did not consider herself a nymphomaniac, despite what other people may think. It was just that sex constantly preyed on her mind. Every day, and even during the night, the most innocuous of things would suddenly set her off, and what she needed most when that happened was to either fuck, or at the very least, masturbate. When she slept, it brought no respite, her dreams tormented by lustful acts with strangers or even members of her own family. Male or female, it made no difference. Once that fire ignited in her belly, and no matter what she did to try and stop it, she knew it was inevitable that it would quickly travel to her vagina. The juices would start to flow, and her nipples would become erect, another sure sign that she was in heat.
Did she find it embarrassing? Of course, she did. But there was nothing she could do to stop it despite it not being an ideal situation; although lots of men would probably disagree. When it happened, she just needed someone; young or old, big, small, ugly, or handsome; it made no difference so long as they had a cock and could get it up. Failing that, she needed a pussy and fingers. Any woman would do, someone to rub her twat against, someone to jam their fingers into her cunt and frig her roughly until she burst and achieved her seismic climatic release.
She had been married, quite a few times sadly, but none were ever destined to last. When a fresh relationship began, her new man could never quite believe their luck. Not for her, ‘I’m washing my hair tonight,’ or ‘It’s that time of the month,’ or even ‘I’ve got a headache.’ She needed shagging every night, several times preferably. It was sex before tea or maybe straight after. It was mid-evening or early morning. Out in town, in a bar or a club, maybe the cinema, when the feelings started, she pleaded with her beau to fuck her. Upstairs on a bus, in the car during a journey, she didn’t think there was anywhere that she hadn’t opened her legs.
The problem always arose when her current partner, husband, or other half was not with her. Because then, she needed to find someone else, fidelity going straight out of the window, and in next to no time, so too would her marriage.
At work, and she’d had plenty of jobs; she had attained an advantageous position. You could say it was because she had slept, or rather, fucked her way to the top. At thirty-six, she ran five miles every morning and had a body that most twenty-year-olds would be envious of. Every boss she had ever had, and there had been quite a few, could never quite believe their luck. No need to try and proposition her; she had lost count of how many offices and boardrooms she’d had sex in. Eventually, though, she became a liability, word got around; as did she when the lust came over her, and then it was usually time for her to move on.