The Over-Educated Nympho

Because I was a lame-ass I never typed out the entirety of my section of the nympho article in Maxim. But I’m bored now and found the issue among old New Yorkers and literary magazines underneath a pile of tshirts and underwear next to a cup smelling of vanilla vodka.

So for those of you who are too poor/embarassed/lame to buy the May 2006 issue of Maxim, here’s my excerpt, although you can see the entire article here:

Professional Deflowerer, Vix, Dallas Texas

When I was fifteen my mom sat me down and said, “You know it’s true that boys only want one thing, right? So watch out for them, ok?” I grinned to myself, thinking, Whatever–boys had better watch out for me!

My first boyfriend once said, in an accusing way, “You really like sex, don’t you?” That was the first inkling I had that I was different. In college I became kind of a professional deflowerer. Friends would ask me to sleep with their virgin friends. I wanted to make that experience a good one for guys. I’d cuddle, I’d spend the night, I’d teach, I’d moan. It was great–for them and for me!

My most outrageous experience was a threesome with two guys with sexy-slow Texas accents. I picked them up at a bar and took them home. I thought they’d chicken out since they were super-straight and had been best friends since childhood, but they were totally into it.

I’ve definitely been called a nympho. I’ve heard everything: “You’re a sex freak, aren’t you?” “You love dick more than any girl I’ve ever seen.” “You’re going to be a porn star when you grow up.” I’m the crazy girl who’s always ready for sex, who has to beg her boyfriend for sex instead of vice versa, like my friends.

And let me tell you–that shit fucking sucks.