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Three months ago, I was your daily housewife and mother of three-- 2 kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady 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 homemaker with all kids in school is boring to the extreme. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. I easily confess I am a sex addict, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and unclean, dirty and horrible . In dream, I desired everybody to understand the 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 was like the addict that knows where the addiction will lead, however doesn't desire aid. I feared my sexual addiction would virtually destroy my marriage. I 'd lose my children and perhaps wind up in prison. I couldn't assist that. The dangers surpassed the effects since the sex was that good. I love Staci for what she's done. 8 months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her other half is a cops detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common. I found her rather dull and one dimensional. She's likewise 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 troubling and her language atrocious. In mixed company, I chuckled uncomfortably at her unrefined jokes, however the stories she informed me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never ever heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking children, fathers raping young daughters, ladies having sex with animals, moms viewing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, wives taking on troops of horny guys, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little women. 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 constantly about somebody she knew or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I discovered especially troubling was that her vile fantasies worked their method into my tame dreams like an getting into virus, pressing my simple, reasonably clean musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the featured performer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and started 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 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 provide it a try. I practically broke my back in the effort, however a easy self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush handle was no longer enough.

Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, offering me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We went shopping for clothes a fantastic deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I used just short dresses at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female form. She encouraged me I was stunning to the extreme, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfortable even when suffering before her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina version 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 thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, but hiding the result from my hubby was difficult. My first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max alerted me not to cheat. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had actually never been born. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could just picture what wanting I 'd never ever been born involved. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, but the thought never left my mind. I thought he may force me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Maybe, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He might fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a excellent make fun of the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that launched Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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