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3 months back, I was your everyday housewife and mom 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 ever would have had we not moved across the street from Staci and Joe. The life of a housewife 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 slut, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and dirty, dirty and revolting . In dream, I wanted everybody to know the new me. In reality, I didn't wish to market that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I resembled the junkie that understands where the dependency will lead, but does not desire assistance. I feared my sexual addiction would practically damage my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and possibly wind up in prison. I could not assist that. The dangers surpassed the effects because the sex was that great. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, learnt more about me, inside and out, then began her professional controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a difficult and long one for me, however nothing rewarding comes easy as my dad would state. Eight months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her other half is a cops investigator, 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 chubby face. She dropped out 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 company, I laughed uneasily 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, mom's fucking boys, daddies raping young children, ladies making love with animals, moms enjoying dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, spouses taking on soldiers of randy males, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck to Staci. I felt like I needed to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were always about someone she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I felt like she was simply fantasizing aloud, and I thought she was a very ill woman. What I found particularly troubling was that her disgusting dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking virus, pushing my easy, reasonably tidy musings of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, typically with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and began a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your home. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea 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 offer it a try. I almost broke my back in the effort, but a easy self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush handle was no longer enough.

Many of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, providing me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We went shopping for clothes a excellent offer, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet supervisor. I wore only brief gowns at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female form. I have always thought of myself as being too short, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I thought of the female genitalia as a nasty crack next to a shit hole. She encouraged me I was stunning to the extreme, specifically in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfy even when languishing before her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started 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, however hiding the result from my husband was impossible. My 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. I remember being incensed at the mere tip. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the kind of guy that resides in fear of his better half cheating on him. I won't have you followed. I won't question your activities or the way you dress. I won't sleuth or ask concerns. You can come and go as you please. If I ever learn that you cheated on me. I'll make you want you had never ever been born if I ever get proof favorable or catch you in the act. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I might just imagine what wanting I 'd never ever been born entailed. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, but the thought never ever left my mind. I thought he might force me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that released Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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