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Three months back, I was your everyday housewife and mother of three-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and most likely never would have had we not moved throughout the street from Staci and Joe. The life of a housewife with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. I freely confess I am a sex addict, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and dirty, horrible and filthy . In fantasy, I wanted everybody to know the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want to market that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I resembled the addict that knows where the dependency will lead, however does not desire aid. I feared my sexual addiction would practically ruin my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and potentially wind up in prison. I could not help that. Due to the fact that the sex was that good, the dangers surpassed the consequences. I love Staci for what she's done. Eight months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our first conference. Her spouse is a police detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common. In fact, I found her rather dull and one dimensional. She's likewise rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a chubby face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language godawful. In blended business, I laughed uneasily at her crude jokes, but the stories she informed me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never heard such shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, fathers raping young children, females making love with animals, moms watching dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, wives taking on troops of randy males, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little girls. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about someone she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I discovered especially disturbing was that her vile dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an invading virus, pressing my easy, relatively tidy visions of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, often with me as the included performer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and began a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in the house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head. She told me a story about a female gymnast with a hunger for her own pussy. Being an ex-gymnast and volunteer cheerleading coach, I figured I 'd provide it a whirl. I almost broke my back in the attempt, however a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush manage was no longer enough.

Many of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, providing me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We shopped for clothes a excellent deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I used only brief gowns at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female form. She convinced me I was stunning to the severe, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfortable even when languishing prior to her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began with a aromatic douche and included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, however hiding the arise from my partner was impossible. My very first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max cautioned me not to cheat. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you wish you had actually never ever been born. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I might only envision what wanting I 'd never been born entailed. I seriously questioned he would physically damage me, however the thought never left my mind. I thought he may force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Perhaps, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a good make fun of the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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