My old boyfriend used to call me a nymphomaniac. I always laughed it off, telling him that he just couldn’t deliver, but sometimes I think maybe he was right.

I was recently in the process of redecorating my apartment. New floors, fresh paint, the works. It was a Saturday morning and I was up early, waiting for the floor installer to arrive. I was sipping coffee when there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find an attractive man in his late 20s. He was wearing tight-fitting, faded jeans and a tight T-shirt. I greeted him warmly and admired his neat little ass as I followed him into the kitchen.

It wasn’t long before he was banging away on the floor. I was getting turned on watching him, since I’ve always had the hots for hard-hat types. This one was no exception. Feeling adventurous, I... Read More