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Some people call people like me nymphomaniacs. But I don't have deviations and I'm perfectly capable of having orgasms. I just consider myself extremely sexual. Yes, I want sex. But for a woman like me, it gets harder every year. I guess that's why I started a diary, to reread all the great times I've had plenty of lovemaking. Here, for example, is one of the times I made a salad with a guy I didn't know at all. Thank goodness his dick was more like a bone than a dried tomato. We didn't even make it to the bedroom. It started where it ended, in the kitchen by the salad plate. That guy's testicles turned out to be the receptacle of the world's best salad dressing. And it took me a long time to find my dressing...