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3 months ago, I was your everyday housewife and mother of 3-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and probably never ever would have had we not moved throughout the street from Staci and Joe. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. In dream, I wanted everybody to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't want to advertise that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I resembled the addict that understands where the dependency will lead, however doesn't desire assistance. I feared my sexual addiction would virtually ruin my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and possibly wind up in prison. I could not help that. Because the sex was that great, the dangers surpassed the effects. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then began her specialist controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a tough and long one for me, but nothing worthwhile comes easy as my dad would say. Eight months of patient prodding has actually settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her hubby is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common.

I 'd never heard such shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking kids, dads raping young children, women having sex with animals, moms viewing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, other halves handling soldiers of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. I felt like I had to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were always about somebody she knew or became aware of, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I seemed like she was merely thinking out loud, and I thought she was a extremely sick lady. What I discovered especially troubling was that her disgusting dreams worked their method into my tame fantasies like an invading infection, pushing my simple, fairly tidy daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my regular 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 your home. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head.

Many of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We went shopping for clothes a terrific deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I wore just brief dresses at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female form. She persuaded me I was lovely to the extreme, particularly in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfortable even when suffering prior to 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 started with a fragrant douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, however concealing the result from my husband 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. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you want you had never been born. He had never threatened me with divorce. I might just picture what wanting I 'd never been born involved. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, but the idea never left my mind. I thought he may force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Maybe, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a great make fun of the possibilities, however 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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