Janani, with her nymphomania, came around six times in the ten minutes. And sure enough, by the tenth minute, Anjan and I were speeding up, sweaty, th...rsty, and immensely pleasured. Poor Janani was limp, by now, just barely holding on with her legs around my hips or her arms around her shoulder. By around the seventh minute itself, Anjan joined me in holding her up – me at her hips and Anjan by her armpits – and she was lolling around to our strokes like a ragdoll, the only signs she is alive. He hadn’t had an attraction for a woman like this since he was a teenager, and even than it wasn’t this strong. Sex had become a routine, just something that his body constantly demanded, with no more emotion than eating food when hungry, or sleeping when tired. He had tried for years to feel something, ANYTHING. He had experimented a lot of different, willing women, spent insane amounts of money for new things, just trying to spark something in him, some type of feeling or emotion, anything. More

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