Nympho to celibate in 4 years

When I was a teenager I fucked a lot of people.

To me sex felt good and as long as I was doing it right there were no real consequences.

I explored drugs. Sex took on a whole new angle, it was weirder, even more fun. I let more and more people take part and cared less about the people involved.

It was fulfilling. I loved doing the next day walk of shame. Wearing yesterday’s makeup and clothes along with a secret smile. The smile of someone who was fucked good. I wore it well. I wore it proudly. I’m not ashamed and never will be.

As a teen sex was power.

In university sex became about connection. I craved love. I was so lonely. I found connection between the bouncy breasts of two or three beautiful ladies. Their skin was soft and warm. They kissed differently, so soft. Kissing a woman is like being punched in the face with a whisper. But not in a bad way.

During my first summer holiday I hoped to run back into the arms of my teenage amour — Norbert. He only let me once or twice. He was being pussy-whipped by some older woman who was paying his bills.

I always hated him for that. I needed his particular brand of screwing. I needed him to do that thing where he made me feel like a dirty whore while elevating me to goddess status. It wasn’t to be.

My best friend said I could have had him if I wanted him.

Said he always had been led by his cock.

Said If I didn’t go after him and make him want me more then I obviously didn’t want him myself.

I found solace and revenge bouncing heartily on her boyfriends dick. She never did find out about that time. She knew we’d slept together in the past and we’d made our peace with it. But if she’d found out about that one time, it would have become personal.

Before I left for my second term at university I had Norbert one last time. It wasn’t like all the times before. In the middle of having sex he grabbed my stomach hard and asked me where all this fat had come from. It was the first time I experienced shame during sex unfortunately it would not be the last.

When I met the guy I married sex was a weird thing. He used it against me. He made something I had previously loved, shameful and painful. It started out OK, but pretty quickly no stopped meaning no. I was raped many many times. Often I was raped while porn was playing on a TV in the background.

I was told it was my duty.

I longed for someone else. The body of someone who loved and respected me, the body of someone I wanted. The body of someone who loved me not the pretty blonde girls with big tits, impossible waists and meticulously groomed pussies.

When my husband suggested swinging I jumped at the chance. The chance to have someone else. The chance to feel something more than shame. I mean honestly what else was there to lose? What little dignity I still had seemed a small price.

Turns out I enjoyed it more than he did. During that time I met and loved incredible people.

There was a Spanish guy and his young wife. He wouldn’t let me sit on his glorious cock, that was for his gf only, but I made sure to explore every inch of it with my mouth. His girlfriend was, to this day, the most glorious creature I’ve ever had the pleasure to suck. I loved the way she would buck against my face when it was buried in her sweet tasting lap. It made me feel powerful. I knew what she wanted.

There was the boss lady who commanded me to spread my legs while her and her boyfriend took it in turns to pleasure me until I begged them to stop.

The time I had sex with 7 complete strangers in the space of 1 hour. The giant bed in the swingers club was writhing with so many bodies, mine among them. Hands exploring until every body part was throbbing from the touches of anonymous people.

This whole time my husband was there. Buried in some other woman. I don’t remember though, I never cared who he was attempting to fuck.

He stopped us going a few months in. Maybe the decision to swing was a mistake on his part. People were undoing his good work. I was starting to not believe him when he said I was disgusting. After all, I now had evidence to the contrary.

Then I left. For someone who thought I was beautiful just as I was. Someone who didn’t want me to look different. Be different. Just be me.

Vinnie is the only person I’ve met that I have frisson with. Just his skin close to mine sends real no fooling lightning through my entire body.

When my fingers lightly stroke his skin there are vibrations between us. Real no fooling vibrations. The likes of which I’ve never experienced.

We spent days teasing each other into a frenzy before we finally indulged. I’ve never been patient enough to do that with anyone before.

Vinnie was not like anyone else. He made every moment count. He knew exactly what I needed. He sped up as I was slowing down, he slowed down when I was speeding up. I’d catch glimpses of his face, smiling his rogue smile, it gave me shivers. We were oh so in tune.

Unlike anyone in my past Vinnies body possesses magical qualities. If I feel like crap, being close to him, touching him in some way brings relief.

If I am scared, cold, anxious, sad, ill, tired — Vinnies touch will actually make me feel better. I’ll often rest my head on him while we’re watching TV.

The thing is, Vinnie has cancer and I’m disabled. That means we’re rarely well enough to get in the mood.

For the first time in my life I’m a sex camel.

Maybe it’s good for me? My sex life hasn’t exactly been a bed of roses. You can tell by the way I talk about it that I haven’t ‘unpacked’ a lot of my more negative experiences. I’m really not ready for that just yet.

But when I think of it. When I remember what it’s like to make love to the man I’m going to marry. My body fills with electric. I become distracted. I start breathing heavily. At my earliest convenience I make excuses. I go find a quiet place and have a wank.

Because when I don’t. Life is impossible. I become angry. Permanently horny. Unable to eat. Emotional. I just can’t take that kind of sexual frustration.

In cartoons, when the main character is hungry, everything looks like chicken. Welcome to my world.

You may wonder how one survives going from being a nympho to being a celibate who lives in hope… but I love Vinnie. As cheesy as it sounds, our relationship transcends sex. It works on different and far more important levels.

But, you know, without Porn Hub I’d probably be a pretty horrible human being.


Thanks for reading.

I’m here to blog about the highs and lows of life.

Join me every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday for a new post.

We’re all just figuring shit out, sometimes it just takes an honest perspective to make a difference.


I can’t say I’ve ever openly asked for a sexually transmitted infection but if you could give me a clap or two it would make me smile!