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3 months earlier, I was your everyday homemaker and mom of three-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and probably never ever would have had we not moved throughout the street from Staci and Joe. The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. I easily confess I am a sex addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and dirty, revolting and unclean . In fantasy, I desired everybody to know the new me. In reality, I didn't want to promote that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the junkie that knows where the addiction will lead, however doesn't want aid. The threats exceeded the repercussions since the sex was that good. I like 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 hubby is a authorities detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common.

I 'd never ever heard such shocking and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking kids, daddies raping young children, females making love with animals, moms enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, other halves taking on troops of randy men, 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 to Staci. I felt like I had to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were constantly about somebody she understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I felt like she was simply daydreaming aloud, and I believed she was a very ill woman. What I discovered particularly troubling was that her disgusting dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an invading virus, pressing my basic, relatively tidy visions of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, typically with me as the included entertainer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and started a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in your house. After six months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head. 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 whirl. I practically broke my back in the effort, however a basic self-fuck with cucumbers or my child'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 makeup, offering me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We shopped for clothes a terrific deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet manager. I wore just short dresses at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female form. She persuaded me I was gorgeous to the extreme, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfy even when languishing before her with my legs broad 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 comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, but concealing the arise from my other half was difficult. My very first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max cautioned me not to cheat. If I ever discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof positive or catch you in the act, I'll make you want you had actually never been born. He had never threatened me with divorce. I might only imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born required. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, but the idea never left my mind. I thought he might force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Possibly, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a excellent make fun of the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that launched Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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