He Knows How to Use his Nympho (chapter 1)

When I made my wedding vows, I sincerely hoped I could change my ways. I had finally found a man who loved me, and didn’t care to know about my past. I thought I could settle down and silence my cravings to be used like a whore.

For a year or so, I was a good girl. I had sweet, loving sex with my husband, and he treated me like a princess; tenderly, sensuously. I think I always knew, though, that I would fall from grace eventually…

I met my demon, the stranger who became my lover, in a bar where I went one night with some co-workers. I recognized the way he looked at me, like he was a beast who wanted to consume me, like he knew how to bang a pussy till it hurt. I had seen and fucked so many men who had those eyes; eyes that could strip you naked while you were still sitting in a crowded room. My clit throbbed, awakening in hunger.

I excused myself to the bathroom, so I could wipe away the flood of pussy juice in my panties. Thinking back, I’d almost swear he could smell it when I passed his bar stool. He was three steps behind me when I rounded the corner and opened the door to the ladies room. He walked right in behind me.

Before I could close the door to the stall, his arm reached through and stopped it. His eyes held mine, and he pushed me backward into the stall. He locked us in.

“You want to get fucked,” he quietly snarled. “You want it now, and you want it hard.”

“I could scream rape,” I said. My heart was racing.

“You won’t.” He cleched a handful of my hair and pulled me into a kiss. I let him. He tasted like whiskey and sin. My clit was so swollen and throbbing I wanted to explode. “See?” He said, when he ended the kiss. “I know your type. I could do anything I want to you, right here, right now.”

He pinched my right nipple through my shirt. When I didn’t protest or slap his hand away, he pinched harder. “You love that, don’t you?” he whispered. It was really a quiet growl.

“Animal!” I said, trying to pretend he was wrong.

“You want an animal. Keep your mouth shut.” He pressed me into the side of the stall and grabbed me between the legs. He ground my pussy through my clothes and pressed his body into mine. His cock was rock-hard against my leg. I knew there was no going back.

He pulled up my skirt and moved my panties to the side. Three fingers penetrated deep inside me, and he began to thrust them in and out. I came in no time. He kept going, and I couldn’t stop myself from grinding against his hand. Every time a woman came into the bathroom, he held his other hand over my mouth to muffle my moans.

After my fourth hard orgasm, he withdrew his dripping hand. He put his fingers to my mouth. “Lick it off,” he said. “I know exactly what kind of woman you are. Suck my fingers clean.” I shouldn’t have, but I did.

“My turn,” he said He pushed me down onto the toilet seat, with my skirt still around my waist. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his stiff cock. It had been a long time since I’d seen one other than my husband’s. My mouth watered for it.

He held it in his right hand, and with his left, he took a handful of my hair. He swung his cock into my face over and over. “Yeah,” he laughed. “I knew it. You’re a whore.” He kept slapping my face with his tool.

“I have to piss,” he said. “Open your mouth.” When I tried to protest, he tightened his grip on my hair. “Drink it, bitch. Don’t pretend you don’t want it.” I couldn’t pretend. I wanted his cock in my mouth, and if that was the only way to get it, I would take it.

He pushed himself into my mouth, and held my head still. He didn’t move. His cock started to soften, and warm liquid began to drizzle out of it. I held the salty fluid in my mouth. “Swallow,” he ordered. I did. His stream of piss became stronger. I had to gulp it down, to keep it from spilling on my shirt. “Good girl,” he said.

Those words have always been my downfall. My resistance vanished, and I was practically sucking his piss out of him. He sighed in relief as he emptied himself down my throat. When his flow stopped, I kept sucking. I had to have his cum. His cock hardened in my mouth while I thrust up and down on it. He loosened his grip on my hair, knowing I was willing. He had been right. I wanted it.

“I want you to piss while you suck me,” he said. I pulled my head away just long enough to say “My panties…”

“Piss right through them,” he ordered. “You won’t be taking them home, anyway.” He held my head still and fucked my mouth like a pussy. I tried hard to start my flow of urine, but I couldn’t. I wanted to, but it wouldn’t run. He pulled his cock out of my mouth and slapped my face with his hand. It sounds brutal, but he only hit me hard enough to surprise me. I began to piss.

“You filthy bitch,” he said, pumping my head. He whispered the phrase several times in rhythm with his thrusting. His pre-cum was starting to gather at the back of my throat, and I knew he was going to blow his load soon. He started to moan.

My piss trickled to an end. He began to thrust fast and deep. “Gag on it. Gag for me.” I did. I couldn’t have avoided it. His balls were bouncing off my chin with each thrust.

“Here it comes,” he said. He started to pull away, and I sensed he was giving me a choice. I pushed my mouth down firmly on his cock. “Oh, yes… good girl,” he said. He filled my mouth with his jiz, and I swallowed in one big gulp. I had forgotten that different men taste different. I liked his cum.

He led me to stand, and put his arms around me. I fell into him for a moment, but in my mind, I was frantically trying to tell myself the whole episode was just an accident — something I would never do again. Then, he did the one thing that has always erased my resolve; he kissed me.

I never see a man again if he won’t kiss me after I take his cum in my mouth. I knew I was in trouble this time. “You swallowed it all, you greedy slut,” he said. “You could have saved some for me.” I looked at his face, and he was smiling. I couldn’t help smiling back.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Who cares?” I said. I removed my panties and handed them to him. He laughed.

“Be here tomorrow,” he told me. It was an order. He zipped his pants and left

I straightened my skirt, muttering to myself that there was no way in hell I’d ever set foot in this bar again. I tried to believe it. But he was right, and I knew it. I’d be back tomorrow.