My Wife Is A Nymphomaniac

My wife is a nymphomaniac.

Not a horror but an adventure story

The dictionary defines nymphomania as excessive and uncontrollable sexual desire in women. Medical science classifies nymphomania as a disease.

* * *

Ours was an arranged match. When the offer first reached my ears I was not inclined to go through with the bride viewing process for the age difference was wide. She was twenty and I was thirty three. But the common friend who brought the match was so insistent that I meet the bride that my parents and I made the visit. The meeting was cordial but from the body language of the girl's parents it was clear that they too had agreed at our friend's insistence. The girl was pretty. Her name was unusual for Chennai Hindus. She was Thelma after a childhood friend of her mother. Again on the prodding of our friend I got a few moments of conversation alone with the girl in a side room

"So you have decided to continue your studies," I said grinning widely. That is the standard excuse parents of girls offer when they are not willing for the match.

She chuckled delicately. "No," she said. "I am not into higher studies." Our eyes met. I extended my hand. She held it. We were married a month and a half later.

*

We were tired after the lengthy wedding ceremonies that started at day break and ended well past nine at night. The last three of those hours we stood receiving the long line of guests. Then straight to the airport. We slept almost the entire length of the flight. It was four in the morning when we got off at Rome. Thelma's father, who was an executive in one of the airlines, used his connections not only for the hotel bookings but had also arranged for a cab to take us there. By the time we registered at the hotel it was past seven. The receptionist directed us to the dining room for our complementary breakfast. It was while having breakfast that I noticed a change in Thelma.

It was in her eyes. The orbs always wide were open even wider and they were unseeing eyes. It was the blank stare that I have seen in the inmates of mental hospitals, so different from her sparklers. I was concerned.

"Are you OK?" I asked. She did not seem to hear. I was about to repeat the question when she turned, looked blankly into my eyes, and nodded. We went up to the room rolling the trolley with our boxes in it. In the room I shifted and arranged the boxes. Thelma did not give a hand with the boxes as she usually does. She was standing at the window looking out. When I came closer she turned and we hugged and kissed passionately. I breathed more freely. Nothing was the matter with my Thelma. I was wrong. Something was the matter but I could not have guessed what it was if Thelma herself had not told me the next day. Many things were to happen before that.

We held each other tightly with lips locked for quite a while. Then she held me firmly by the lapels of the light coat I had been wearing for the flight and pushed me back so that she could see my face. And then she said something no bride had ever spoken to her husband on the eve of their first sexual union.

"Lick me," she said.

I was taken aback, naturally. I had made plans for a gentle step by step approach in order not to frighten her. I had no back up plans now that she had dismantled plan A. There was no need for she was undressing and I willy-nilly had to follow suit. I could not throw my dresses all over as she was doing for my coat had valuables in them. By the time I had hung it in the wardrobe Thelma was totally naked. She was leaning on the side of the bed; her buttocks were pressing the mattress. I came round naked and I saw her in all her raw beauty; I hardened. Her breasts were like a pair of malgova mangoes, her waist was narrow and hips broad. She must have shaved the previous day for her vulval mound was smooth as glass and glistening. Her vulva was puffy and at the slit I could see moisture. I hardened further. As I approached her she leaned back further and lifted her legs and spread them. Whatever disappointment I must have felt in the abrupt and unromantic hurry of my wife disappeared at the sight of the vulva. She leaned back still further with her thighs spread to the outmost. Moisture was flowing out of the cleft and spreading on to her thighs. I pulled out a pillow and threw it on the carpet and kneeling before the deity I proceeded to lick.

I did not try the gentle method of licking the sides of the cleft and then working up to the clitoris. My wife's approach to sex was now an open book to me. I was in no mood for a 'go for the clitoris' command from her. I went for the clitoris on my own, and my, how well she responded!

Holding my head by the hair she directed me to the right spot. She was embracing me with her legs with her feet locked. And then she moved her hips up and down. Soon she was vibrating and as I stopped licking and after a pause when I swiped in broad swipes she screamed. I waited to give her the finale – I bit on the clitoris with covered lips and she screamed again. She climbed on to the bed pulling me after her. She lay back feet dangling in air. As I came up she held my penis and inserted. I expected it to plop in for she was pouring juices. But I had press till something gave way. Surprise of surprises my darling was a virgin! But do virgins demand a lick first time?

It did not take us long to climax and we did in perfect unison. She screamed softly. I waited and gave her another and yet another. She lay back exhausted and I slipped down to rest my cheek on her vulva. My cheek became moist making it delightfully chilly. I turned my face to press the other cheek. Soon we were snoozing.

A gentle tap at the door woke me. I noted the time. We have been sleeping for over three hours. I put on my shorts and went to the door. The cleaning crew consisting of a woman in her late thirties and a young man who could not have been more than twenty were at the door with their trolley packed with sheets and bottles of cleaner liquids.

"We have come to change the sheets," said the woman with a sly smile, "I am Amy and this is George." It is not usual for cleaning crew to introduce themselves. Apparently Thelma's father must have mentioned that his daughter was honeymooning and the staff of the hotel was making the guests fell at home.

"Go ahead, but first..." I wanted them to wait till I got my wife who was lying on her back in the nude thighs widely spread into some sort of dress. But when the two jerked back with wide open eyes I turned round. Thelma was waking towards us in the nude as if she did not know there were visitors at the door. She looked up still with that unseeing stare and turned into the bathroom. The cleaners came in and went straight for the bed we were using.

"Beautiful, wonderful," chirruped Amy in heavily accented English. She was holding up the stained sheet. On it I could make out two spots of red. "Blood," she continued, "good man your wife is a virgin."

"What's remarkable about that?" I said though when Thelma asked for licking I was pretty sure she was not.

"No Italian woman ever is a virgin on her wedding day."

"Mostly deflowered by the man they are marrying," I said. I do not know why but I was defending Italian womanhood.

"Some are, but most are not," said Amy and thrusting her chest forward proudly she continued, "I was not." and laughed uncontrollably. I grinned and so did the young man. "Lucky man," she continued "to get this innocent baby for wife. See how without shame she walked past us in the nude. She is a baby."

Thelma walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. I was happy to note that, but my happiness was short lived. She removed the towel and after wiping her back and shoulders she threw towel with the other soiled clothes. She then sank on the sofa next to the one I was on and stretched out with her breasts and vulva on display. I must admit that in spite of my misgivings it was a grand sight. At that moment I was proud of my wife.

Her eyes though had that mad woman look. I should not be saying so but that is how it was. Thelma was fidgety for a while and then she placed the back of one knee on the sofa arm rest thereby opening out the leaves of her vulva. Of shame there was no trace at all. She did not appear to recognise that there were strangers in the room and that one of them was a man. The two were diligently changing the sheets and arranging the blankets and even in the tense situation I was in I could not but marvel at the way these hotel workers are able to make sheets and blankets obey like trained dogs.

Thelma got up and stretched herself. Those breasts and the hips and the puffed up vulva were wonderful as she stretched. I found myself hardening. It was good that I did for Thelma came and lay on me. She cuddled and then she got up purposefully and holding the bottom of my shorts she pulled it down and with some assistance from me removed it and threw it away. I must confess that loving making with an audience had long been one of my fantasies as I believe it is for most men. When she removed my shorts I could hear a gasp. I do not know if it was the woman or the young man, but it pleased me that there was one to appreciate my hugely erect penis.

I stretched helpfully and Thelma climbed up the sofa and was trying to manoeuvre her vaginal opening against my penis. This was not easy for my penis was waving this way and that and Thelma could not free an arm to guide it in.

Noticing our predicament the two came to help. George steadied Thelma's pelvis and Amy held my penis against the vaginal opening and a gentle thrust from Thelma and I was in. The vagina was so wet and sloppy that my penis slid right up to the hilt.

"Thanks," I said. From the corner of my eyes I could see Amy wave as if to say 'you are welcome'.

She was hot and I was hot. Soon we were vibrating. I could see our audience both crouching in the vantage point in front from were they could see the penis stroke in and out of Thelma. And then I ejaculated in great spurts and I could feel her body wracking in a mammoth orgasm. We rested and then I gave her two more.

"Get me some wipes; I fear the sofa may get stained," I said for I could feel some semen leaking on to my thighs. Thereupon George came with the wipes and bending down he cleaned Thelma vulva with my shrivelled penis still holding on in the vagina. He went for more wipes and when he was ready I pulled out the penis and he cupped the vulva with the wad. Thelma was standing legs apart and the young man was crouching in front of her wiping away at her vulva. Then she came and lay on the newly made bed. George felt he had more to do. He took a wipe and opening out the leaves of the vulva he wiped it clean.

"Thanks," I said as I climbed up to lie beside Thelma. "You both can use the other bed," I continued hospitably. Both burst out in laughter.

"She's my mother's sister," he said.

"What if," I said.

"You are a bad man," said Amy, "your wife is a baby. Be kind to her; she is a rare gem."

I could hear the door click shut. She was soon asleep but my whirling brain was keeping me awake. 'Was she a baby? To me it seemed as if she was a loose cannon. How can I possibly be in control when she is in this mood?

2

I woke up gnawing with hunger pains. After breakfasting at seven we had had nothing other than a glassful each of apple juice and it was now five in the evening. Thelma opened her eyes.

"Hungry?" She had the same vacant stare. She nodded. "We'll go to the restaurant." She shook her head. "No? Why not?" With both her index fingers she pointed to her naked body. "You don't want to put on a dress?" She did not.

For the first time it struck me that since seven in the morning she had not spoken except for the two words, 'lick me' uttered hours ago. During these hours of silence we once had great sex by ourselves and then spectacular sex in front of an appreciative audience. Something serious was happening to my wife and I had no clue what it was. I ordered for room service. Could the person bringing in the tray know that a free show was in prospect? I was sure Amy would not speak about it at least till we are the guests of the hotel but I was not sure of George. Anyway there was nothing I could do about it but bite the bullet. Bite the bullet? Was it that bad? To be frank I was enjoying love making before an audience and there was enough of troilism in me to enjoy others seeing my wife in the nude. That is the brutal truth.

I answered the soft tap at the door. A man was holding a tray and a woman was by his side with towels over her arm. If they noted a nude woman on the bed they showed no visual evidence of it. They briskly laid the table. Thelma walked up to the wash room. Soon she was back in the nude of course and took a seat at the table. The man was having trouble hiding an erection. The woman wanted to know if we needed their presence. I said they could go but come back after half an hour to clear the table.

"Don't bother about what is happening. Just do your job. Latch the door when you leave. I'll be keeping it unlatched for you to come in." They left and we ate a hearty meal. It was a silent meal. After that Thelma sat for a while her eyes still wide open and still blank. She got up and held my hand. By gesture she made me follow her to the bed. She squatted on the side of the bed and folded her hips. It was an invitation; or rather an order for me to lick. I did and followed up with great sex. When I got up to wash the dinner plates were gone and all was spick and span. We were apparently too busy to have noticed the clearing crew.

I woke up at 2.20 in the morning. If Thelma had also woken up and demanded sex I wondered from where I would be able to muster an audience at that hour for by now it was clear that she needed spectators to spur her desires. It was a funny thought. Soon I was asleep. When I woke up sunlight was streaming in through the scenic windows Thelma was not there by my side. I was a bit worried that she might have wandered off. No, she was there on the sofa fully clothed sipping coffee. I met her eyes. There were normal. She smiled.

"Wake up Babu, freshen yourself and have coffee. I have a story to tell."

The coffee machine brew was awful but her story was not.

3

"I remember the time when I masturbated for the first time," said Thelma. "I got up one day with an erotic dream. It was still dark and I was not able to go back to sleep. It was then that I felt like rubbing my clitoris. Soon my brain was full of fantasies and I was rubbing with vigour till I climaxed. I shivered and felt throbbing sensations deep in my vulva. I loved the sensation. From then on I rubbed myself at least once a week. Soon I had a technique that suited me best. I would rub and when the climax approached I will hold my thighs tightly against each other and sway backwards and forwards. My skirt would be wet by the time it was over. You might have noticed that vaginal glands secrete a lot. It is a cause for embarrassment when I get into fantasising in class rooms and bus journeys." A thoughtful pause followed.

"Babu."

"Yes darling."

"Are you bored listening to this?"

"Far from it. I am tingling with anticipation."

"When you saw me yesterday morning in the breakfast room with that vacant stare did you fear that I might be a mental case?"

"No," I said hesitantly," but your body language was a bit unnerving."

"Babu shall I tell you something you might not like to hear."

"Please do."

"I have seen a psychiatrist and she has put a name to my madness. I'll tell you presently. To continue my story. It was Independence Day 15th August. A deep depression in the bay brought on torrential rain. The streets were flooded. I was awake before dawn. I felt my head buzzing. I did not hear any noise but I felt something happening inside my head that I can only describe as a buzz. I had an overpowering desire to masturbate. I usually curl up on one side as I rub myself but today I removed all my clothes and lay back and spread my thighs and rubbed and when I came close to climaxing I placed my forearm against the clitoris and pressed my arm between my thighs as if it was a man's body that was between my thighs. I felt like screaming but managed to keep it down to a moan. It was good. Then I slept.

Mother woke me up at seven. 'What's wrong with you. Why are you staring like a mad person,' she said. I told her I had a bad head ache. After a bath I took some breakfast and coffee. My mother forced me to take tablets for headache. I went back to the room and closed and latched the door. I threw away all my clothes and masturbated. I slept. I got up after three hours and masturbated once again. It was then that I saw myself in the mirror and to be frank I was rather afraid to look at myself. I did look like a mad woman. I had sufficiently recovered by dinner time for my father not to notice anything. This was my first attack. I had another after three months. It was then that I decided that I have to see a psychiatrist. The sister of a classmate of mine was a leading lady psychiatrist. I met her without the knowledge of my friend. She listened to my story and asked to come the next day. She said my case was so unusual that she wanted to refer to her books before prescribing. The next day she gave me her diagnosis. It was nymphomania. She said I will get the attacks at varying intervals. She prescribed some tablets. It makes me sleepy but does not seem to do any good. Have you heard of nymphomania Babu?"

"I have. Most men have and in fact their ambition at one stage in their lives is to meet one in the flesh."

"Have they?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"The doctor told me that the stories that one hears of women going round demanding sex from passing men is a male fantasy. Nymphomania she said may be part of established mental disease like schizophrenia. But unassociated with other mental problems it is very rare."

"Suppose when you are in that state a man happens to come to the house would you have approached him?"

"I really don't know. I had a mighty fear that I might ruin myself and my family if I do something foolish."

"Have you made any note of what triggers these attacks?"

"When I am hot in a sexual sense it happens. It had to happen before my first sexual experience. I was expecting my head to buzz and that very thought put fear into me."

"Fear?"

"Of course. I had no idea what your reaction would be."

"Does exposing yourself to strangers and having an audience for sex enhance the pleasure?"

"It must be for I like to be nude when I have the attack. As for an audience I was greatly excited when the young man was cleaning my vulva. But I was never fully aware of them. I have no recollection at all of what happened before that."

"You mean you don't remember the woman guide my penis into you."

"No. I don't remember any woman at all. If I see those people I do not think I can recognise them."

"Interesting. It appears that instead of hoping for an attack to happen at random we can provoke it to happen at the time of our choosing."

"I also think it is possible. But I worry that I might do wrong things when in the throes of the attack. .The doctor on her own discussed that possibility and it was she who suggested that I get married. She said I need a mature, learned man with a broad understanding of human nature for husband to protect me. She admitted it was a mighty ask and I have to be lucky. My mother was overjoyed when I agreed to be married. To her higher education for women was nonsense. I had excellent offers from young men but I rejected them to my mother's great annoyance. When I agreed to you her exasperation reached boiling point. I was adamant.

"Mature learned man with a broad understanding of human nature," I repeated loudly to myself pacing my words.