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Putting Nymphomania to Good Use

by Jenelle Watson

putting a nymphomaniac to good use

Since as far back as I can remember, I’ve been especially interested in sex. By the time I turned eighteen, I was pretty sure I had a problem. The technical term is nymphomania. My parents taught me to be careful, and I always have been, using condoms, only hanging out with clean guys, and most of all, specializing in the activities I like best.

It turns out that while fucking can be extraordinarily nice, I love other forms of sexual activity even more, such as giving and getting handjobs and blowjobs.

When I find a guy who is like-minded and one that can keep up with me, I do my best to keep him, but it can be difficult when they realize I’m not interested in monogamy. I’m not even all that romantic. A guy can bring me roses, and it doesn’t mean all that much. He can take me to a fancy restaurant, but I’d rather eat at home with him. But if the guy wants to play, to masturbate each other, or anything like that, I’m all over him!

Another thing you should know about me is that I hate cigarettes. They kill people slowly. They raise the cost of medical insurance for everyone, and there is no upside. My apologies to cigarette smokers, but I wish you’d quit.

In fact, when I see someone standing around smoking a cigarette, it’s as if they’re wearing a big sign that says, “I’m such an idiot that I’m willing to kill myself in order to look cool.” And the funny thing is, they don’t look cool. No matter how casually you hold your cigarette, you still look like an idiot. Maybe they all think that by some magic, they’ll be one of the rare ones who are spared. When they get old, it will be OK for them, even though every one else who smoked will be coughing all the time, unable to be active, and spend months hooked to an oxygen tank before they die painfully. It won’t happen to them. Or, maybe they think they’ll deal with it later.

One day, I got to thinking. I want to be helpful, to have done something useful in the world. And, I’m a nymphomaniac. Is there a way to combine the two? Then it came to me: What if someone were to set up a club in which any cigarette smoker who can quit for 30 days, would get a reward. And, what would that reward be? It would be a date with me, in which they get a blowjob or handjob, their choice. If they stay off another 30 days, they get another session.

The idea grew in my head until it became almost an obsession. It would certainly be more fun than my current activity of cashiering in a restaurant. In a month, I had hatched a plan. In another month, I was in business. A month after that, I was able to quit my job, earning more money than I dreamed possible.

I simply placed ads on Craigslist and elsewhere offering a sexy cure for cigarette smoking. Drinking too. I charge $500 up front. A guy has to come to me a month later with sufficient documentation that he has laid off his bad habit for the whole month. This can be a letter from a friend, a collection of snapshots, or diary entries. Guys could cheat, but I think most don’t. Some of the guys don’t come back, forfeiting their $500. Probably ninety percent make it. I think the big amount of cash speaks strongly to them throughout the month.

When the guys come to me, I make sure they are properly rewarded. Every one leaves with a smile on his face. I usually ask them whether they want to try another month. Many do. Some clients have come to me as many as eight months in a row.

A few of the guys are what you might call old or ugly. I don’t discriminate. If they quit their bad habit for a month, they certainly deserve the reward, don’t you think?

One time, a woman brought me $500. I was all flustered at first, but she assured me that she was serious. She wanted to quit smoking, just like the men. And in her case, she wanted me to give her a good licking in a month. I’m not much into women, usually, but it was early in my career, so I wanted the money. She came back a month later. I invited her up to my room, and to my surprise, we had a great time. She wanted to reciprocate, and so she ate me out, too. That was an unexpected delight.

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