She was a nymphomaniac. Kate had a friend named Nancy, who was just a regular girl. Kate and Nancy were the same age, lived together and worked toget...er. Nancy was 5 feet seven inches tall and was 34-25-35 with a B cup. She was a little more conservative than Kate but just as horny. Kate had taught Nancy and Joyce all about men and having sex. Kate and Nancy were always on the prowl looking for men. They usually found them too. There was always a different man lurking in the wings when Kate. Having already showered and spread some lightly scented lotion on my shoulders and arms (and other strategic places). I am dressed in bra, panties, and sheer thigh-high stockings brushing my hair. The man I am seeing tonight has distain for pantyhose—not sexy. ‘Pretty girls should wear pretty things.’ I smiled to myself thinking of him saying that with such a serious look on his face. I think many young women (I am twenty-two) consider stockings to be somewhat slutty—particularly with a garter. That first night she let me stay up late, we cuddled on the couch under a blanket and maybe a half hour later I was dead asleep. I don't know how much later it was when I woke up but I had a really painful pee pee hardon. I slipped out from under the blanket to go pee and tried to keep her from seeing my stiff little dick. I had to go so bad I forgot to notice I was only in my underwear. Somehow my pj bottoms were missing. I was in such a fog I just finished up and snuggled right back in with. Her legs appeared to have undergone some travesty also. Her white skin was speckled with grazes and cuts, one of which had left a thin dark trail running along the contour of her ankle. Her other ankle was decorated with a small gold chain desperate to separate itself from its troubled host. Her face was unremarkable. Her nose was small and slightly bent, offering her eyes a slightly disjointed expression. Underneath her tears, the eyes were just there. They offered no window to her soul, no.