The Virgin Nymphomaniac Chronicles #1: Meet Cara 
 by: BlastoTheHanar 

She didn't like this at all, not one bit. Her curly red locks brushed playfully along the cheeks of her painfully plain face. But, it felt so good. Her impossibly slender thighs and hips convulsed. The multitude of sensations that flowed thru her as her hands groped across every inch of her body that could be reached was all-consuming. Her relatively ample bosom and incredibly sensitive nipples heaved. She was powerless to resist the caresses as she writhed atop the mercifully clean toilet seat. Her swollen pussy gushed endlessly, her juices dribbling into the clear water below. She coughed and wheezed as she used what small amount of sanity she could muster to choke on her own moans. And her, her... her penis throbbed with need. She reached the tipping point and proceeded to stroke her phallus ferociously with both hands as the inevitable product of her orgasm spilled out between her fingers to run down her slick forearms and pool on her smooth stomach. 

She was a complete mess, with cum running down the sides of her torso and dripping off her arms, and vaginal secretions splattered on her inner thighs and streaming down her bare legs to puddle around her feet. But, it wasn't over yet. She was still horny and did not yet have the strength of will to fight off her insatiable urges. As soon as she judged herself adequately milked, she removed one hand from her member to begin messaging her chest again even as she continued to stroke her still-hard cock with the other hand. It wasn't long before her pleasure began to build once more and she resorted to wildly exploring all over her body again, only this time avoiding contact with her vaginal region. She had a bit of a fear of being able to impregnate herself, but this did not effect her arousal much, since the naughtiness of smearing cum all over her body more then outweighed any anxieties her lust-fogged mind could ever hope to present her with. As she contemplated her slimy state, she could feel the pressure building in her core and knew that just a little more stimulation, and she would have the sweat release she sought. She was now desperate to end it, so she firmly took herself in hand and jammed her opposite fist into her mouth, stifling her cries and giving her a sample of her own taste. This put her over the edge and sent large gooey strands flying to splash against her chin and leave thick trails between her breasts that extended from her neck to her bellybutton. 

Now that she had orgasmed once again, she was petty tired. Even so, if she so desired, she could probably have continued without so much as a break, especially since she had neglected her pussy on the last pass, but she was now satisfied enough that she had dominion over her own actions again and she knew that it couldn't be long before the next bell. Although her limbs were still a bit shaky, she wasted no time getting up and grabbing the towel that was draped over her purse, which was hanging along with all her clothes from the backpack hook in the wall behind the toilet. It was a common misconception that frogs were always slimy, but really her skin was just exceptionally smooth, and, at least for everyone she knew in her family, they tended to hate getting dirty. So, now that her needy genitals were beginning to recede, she was very eager to start cleaning up the mess she had made. She quickly but thoroughly went to scrubbing her body off, grateful that she had avoided soiling her hair, or at least the hair on her head, as she had to put a lot of effort into scrubbing her pubes, most certainly so, since she took great care not to stimulate herself as she did. Then, only after she was certain that she hadn't missed a spot, she used the towel to wipe off the seat and mop the floor, as a large volume of her fluids had slid away from her slippery skin during her activities. 

It was only now, with the haze of lust lifted, that she could spare the mental faculties required to listen to her surroundings. She confirmed that she was most likely alone as she retrieved a bottle of body spray from her purse and stood on the towel that remained laying on the floor. As she sprayed herself from head to toe, serving the double purpose of covering her smell and keeping her skin from drying out, she found her now-clear mind dwelling on dark thoughts. This was not the first time she had done this. This was not a one time lapse. She couldn't even really call these impromptu visits to the restroom "lapses" anymore. Somewhere along the way, losing all control like that had stopped being a "maybe once or so a month thing," and started being more of a "one or two times a week near-certainty." She used to at least make it til lunch period. If something didn't change soon, she... 

*RIIIIINNNG* 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the shrill cry of the school-bell announcing the end of the class that she should have been in. She now realized she had been standing idle for a couple of minutes, spray-bottle yet in hand. She quickly scrambled to get dressed and stuff her towel and spray back into their spots in her purse. She made to leave, making it all the way to the sinks before three girls she didn't particularly know walked past her. She decided to go ahead and wash her hands, for appearances sake and because she legitimately felt unclean, only to then notice too late that she needed to pee. As she held her hands under the air-dryer, she decided it wasn't worth the hassle to try to sneak back into a stall, or even worse, go halfway across the building to reach another restroom. The last thing she needed now was to be tardy for her next class. Besides, it was something she knew she could control, and, while it was uncomfortable, knowing she could resist the need helped to put her somewhat at ease. But this ease was a shallow one, for when she exited the restroom she had one final thought on her lips. 

"I have got to figure myself out somehow." 

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[color=red]User 0014(anonymous) posted on Tuesday at 6:53 PM PST.[/color] 
I'm just going to come out and say it. I really need some help. You can not know how grateful I am that I may have found a site that can help me. I'm usually extremely unlucky when it comes finding what I'm looking for on my computer. 

Anyway, I'm here because I don't know of anybody in my life I can talk to about my type of problems. My family isn't the kind that even discuses these kind of things. And my friends, don't get me wrong they are a great group of girls, but most of them can be kinda gossipy and they wouldn't understand at all. I have been tempted to tell my school guidance counselor, but the idea of telling the guy responsible for deciding my college options that I'm some kind of perverted deviant seems like a recipe for disaster no matter how he responds. 

OK, so I've kinda been stalling, and you have to know already what the first part of my problem is. I am constantly becoming aroused by the smallest provocation. Just a few glances at a cute guy sometimes is all it takes and it's not long before I lose all control of myself. Just this morning, my usual lab-partner for first period was home sick, so I ended getting paired-up with this boy. At first I managed to hold out. But, even tho he wasn't someone I particularly have a crush on or anything, just once our hands brushed against each other and I completely lost it. I ended up spending the rest of the class in a bathroom, barely thinking or even breathing as I vented my frustrations. 

Every time I go to pleasure myself, and I hope no one takes offense to this, it feels as if I'm being raped. My body just takes over and I lose all sense of self. Once I get going, it takes all my strength just to make the smallest of adjustments to my behavior. Whats worse is that the more I lose control, the more I find myself craving the helplessness of it all. Each time I let myself go I find myself diving deeper into ecstasy and despair. And each next time seems to become sooner and sooner. Even so, once I have my mind back, I no longer have these cravings, but the memory of them always stays with me. 

Everything I do seems to revolve around my perversion now. I get so incredibly wet when I'm horny that I have taken to wearing tight, waterproof briefs, kinda like what cheerleaders wear. I even started wearing skirts to justify my choice of undergarment, even tho rubberized underwear is far from unheard-of for frogs like myself. Really, I've just become so paranoid, plus, they hide my figure. But it's more than just fact that I can't stand how unshapely my hips are, or any of the many other typical faults I find in myself that I must share with plenty of normal people. No, this is so many times much more worse. 

Even after all that I have already said, this is the part I have been dreading the most. You really can not know how many times I have typed and retyped this. I've never even come close to saying this to anyone at all before now. I really don't want to do this, but it has become so difficult for me to function lately that I don't think I will be able to keep my life together if don't have someone to talk to. And I doubt you can help me if I don't tell you the whole truth. I'm a hermaphrodite. There, I said it. 

For those who don't know, at least as far as I know, in addition to all the normal parts a girl should have, I also have a penis. As far I can tell, nobody knows this about me. I don't ever remember my parents giving me a talk about it, or even the sex talk for that matter. It doesn't make sense that they wouldn't know, so they ether forgot or are dead set on avoiding the issue. Whatever it is, the last thing I would want is to have to discuss this with my mom and dad. I already feel bad enough about myself without having to add the ickyness of what they would have to say to the mix. 

For all I know, they may have never noticed it. I know I didn't even know there was something different about me until the first time my penis came out of its slit when I was, I think, about eleven years old. After that, it took a while before I really knew what it meant. And even now, I still don't entirely understand it completely. I have very mixed feelings about the whole thing. Part of me wants to know more about my condition, while the other is afraid of what I might find out. 

One big example of this is some article that I remember reading once. It said something to the tune of "Some types of morphic frogs have a higher chance of being hermaphrodites because their feral relatives are able to change their gender." The thing is, I have no idea if it was a real study or just some lie, because I didn't check and never remembered where I found it at. Now, if it is true, I can kinda find this comforting, but it's also kinda scary. 

On the one hand, maybe one of my bothers or sisters are like me and have kept it hidden. But on the other hand, maybe one of my bothers or sisters are like me and have kept it hidden. It can be nice to think I might not be alone, but dwelling on the possibility that someone in my family was hiding something from me kinda makes me feel betrayed, which just makes me feel worse about myself for hiding my secrets from them. But, beyond all the keeping secrets from everyone I know and love, the thing that upsets me the most is how my condition ruins my hopes of ever having a normal life. 

It's not like I'm in a big rush to start a family or anything, but I really would like to have kids one day. I'm not a scientist, but I know the chances of that are, well, I don't think there are any chances of that. I mean, with how mixed-up my parts are, I doubt even could conceive. And even if I did, and I kinda hinted at this when I mentioned how much I hate my skinny hips, I don't think I would have enough room inside to carry a baby. I mean, I'm smaller then all my sisters and even most of my brothers. And with all these extra parts in me, I doubt I could be pregnant without it killing me or the child. 

But I'm getting ahead of myself, because all that relies on me actually finding someone to love me. Lets face it, what chance do I even have of someone even sleeping with me even once, let alone wanting to stay with me. I mean, any straight man would be sickened as soon as he got me naked and aroused, and any gay guy wouldn't give me the time of day to begin with. I can't even get up the nerve to go on a date. Really, it just feels like I would be lying by default, looking like a normal girl but not really being one by any sane persons definition. 

OK, so I think I let myself get too worked up here. I've already said I've never had anyone I could talk to about any of this. I also said that I needed help, but now that try to really think about what kind of help I need, I don't know what to say. For now, just getting all of this out of my head feels good, so I think being able to say all of this has already been a big help. Please forgive me if I didn't make much sense with all my ramblings. I think I'm done now. Thank you for listening. 
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She logged out, wiping the remaining tears from her eyes with a tissue. She had been very anxious and even upset while she typed, but, now that she had finished, she felt an easiness fall over her. But, unlike earlier in the day, this ease felt substantial and true, like a proverbial weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Sure, she felt far from perfect, but Cara felt more free from her burdens than she had in months, maybe even years. She took solace in the fact that, no matter what would come of her confession to these strangers, she was no longer alone in her secrets. 

She turned now to the books and papers scattered across her desk, hoping she could catch up on the schoolwork she had brought home with her sometime before midnight.