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Three months ago, I was your everyday housewife and mother of 3-- 2 kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and probably never would have had we not moved across the street from Staci and Joe. The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. I freely confess I am a sex addict, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and filthy, horrible and filthy . In dream, I desired everyone to know the new me. In reality, I didn't want to promote that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the addict that understands where the dependency will lead, however doesn't desire aid. I feared my sexual addiction would essentially ruin my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and perhaps end up in prison. I could not assist that. The risks outweighed the effects since the sex was that good. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then began her professional adjustments that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a long and difficult one for me, however nothing worthwhile comes easy as my daddy would state. Eight months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her hubby is a police detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common. I discovered her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a pudgy face. She left of high school, whereas I am working on my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language godawful. In combined business, I chuckled uneasily at her unrefined jokes, however the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never heard such stunning and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking boys, dads raping young daughters, females making love with animals, mothers viewing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, other halves taking on soldiers of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little women. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about somebody she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I found especially disturbing was that her repellent fantasies worked their way into my tame fantasies like an getting into virus, pushing my basic, relatively clean daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, often with me as the featured performer. I stopped my month-to-month practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and began a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout the house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head also. She informed 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 give it a try. I practically broke my back in the effort, however a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush deal with was no longer enough.

Many of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothing a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I wore only brief gowns at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female form. I have actually always considered myself as being too brief, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I believed of the female genitalia as a nasty fracture next to a shit hole. She convinced me I was gorgeous to the extreme, especially in 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 variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a fragrant douche and included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, but hiding the arise from my hubby was difficult. My very first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max warned me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the mere recommendation. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the type of male that lives in fear of his partner unfaithful on him. I will not have you followed. I won't question your activities or the way you dress. I won't snoop or ask questions. You can go and come as you please. , if I ever find out that you cheated on me.. I'll make you wish you had actually never been born if I ever get proof favorable or capture you in the act. That was it. I simply nodded my understanding, but I didn't rather understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a woman. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could only imagine what wanting I 'd never ever been born required. Max is a big male, a man of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically damage me, but the thought never left my mind. I thought he may force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Possibly, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He might fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a good make fun of the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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