The Journal of a Nymphomaniac

Chapter 4

"Dami do you have a boyfriend?"

She looked up from the stew she stirred. "A boyfriend?"

"A boyfriend," I said with a nod and a smile.

She chuckled. "Yes I do, why?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, just wanted to know. You know, we hardly talk about stuffs like that and I was curious. Is the stew ready?"

A questioning look crossed her face but quickly passed as she turned back to the pot on fire and scooped a bit in her hand. "Yes, almost."

"Good! Because I am hungry!"

"You are always hungry," she joked and I laughed.

I propped myself up on the kitchen counter and watched as she added more ingredients to the content in the pot. Damilola was a very beautiful dark skinned girl that had a perfect figure that could drive anyone wild and to add to that, she had this sex appeal that preceded her age and an innocence to match. Her boyfriend was indeed very lucky.

My husband had been gone for a week and he was right, I didn't feel his absence. First was because he always called to check up on me and Dami had proved to be a better companion than the television in my room. After Seun had travelled, I became free and unrestricted and roamed the house with a carefree spirit - not that his presence had confined me in any way. I just felt different with the knowledge that I wouldn't bump into him anywhere. His absence had also given me time to learn more about my newly aroused wants and fantasies. With the help of videos and ebooks, I had found out all I yearned for when it came to lesbïanism and more as I had stumbled on a pôrn site that had everything - everything imaginable that ranged from girl on girl to hardcöre sèx, to anäl, BDSM, voyeürism, cöprophila. Every night I locked myself in my room and watched these videos in fascination and would later touch myself to ease the tension that would have built up in my stomach. It seemed normal to me, there was nothing wrong with curiosity I thought and if touching myself was the result of it all, that didn't feel wrong either. But I went even further than that and would imagine that my hands were my husband's and whenever they stroked me, that it was his shaft and it made it more real and fun.

I looked at Damilola. The night before, I had imagined they were her hands that were on me and that had made it more pleasurable. The thought of her touching and kissing every part of me had created a different type of want in me and made me wild and quite turned on.

I folded my legs uncomfortably, it still turned me on. I eyed her breasts and wondered how they felt and tasted. Would she like it if I touched them? I pondered. Would she feel how I felt whenever my husband touched mine? Would she moan if I bit her nipples?

I knew I had to stop, to control myself but just couldn't. The scene was stuck in my head and her presence didn't help either. I relaxed on the wall and slid my eyes to her hips and then to where I felt her veejay was. I wondered how it would feel to suck her and what her juice would taste like, my fingers ached to be inside of me.

Esther entered and I jerked out of my thoughts. I smiled at her. "The stew is almost done Esther."

She smiled back and folded her arms across her chest. "That's good to know, but I still don't get why you want to stay here in this hot kitchen and not in the sitting room. Your favorite show is on, you should be out there and not here."

I laughed. "But I like it here. The kitchen smells nice and there is nobody in the sitting room to talk to. You are busy, so is Dami and Bisi - wait where is Bisi?"

"She went to see her sick mum," Dami spoke up as she turned off the gas cooker. "I am quite surprised that you did not notice her absence till now."