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3 months ago, I was your everyday homemaker and mother of 3-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and most likely never ever would have had we not moved throughout the street from Staci and Joe. The life of a housewife with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. I easily admit 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, disgusting and filthy . In fantasy, I desired everyone to know 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 was like the addict that understands where the dependency will lead, however doesn't want assistance. I feared my sexual addiction would virtually damage my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and potentially wind up in prison. I couldn't help that. The risks outweighed the effects since the sex was that good. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. 8 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 detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in typical.

I 'd never heard such stunning 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 watching dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, partners handling soldiers of randy guys, blacks on whites, old with young, canines on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about somebody she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I discovered particularly troubling was that her vile dreams worked their method into my tame fantasies like an attacking infection, pressing my simple, fairly clean daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the included 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, anywhere in your house. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head too. 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 provide it a try. I nearly broke my back in the effort, however a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush handle was no longer enough.

Many 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 shopped for clothes a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe manager. I used only short dresses at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female type. She persuaded me I was stunning to the severe, specifically between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfy even when suffering before her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began with a aromatic douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, but concealing the arise from my other half was impossible. 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 keep in mind being incensed at the mere tip. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the type of male that resides in fear of his better half unfaithful on him. I will not have you followed. I won't question your activities or the way you dress. I will not sleuth or ask questions. You can go and come as you please. , if I ever find out that you cheated on me.. If I ever get evidence positive or catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had actually never ever been born. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I could just envision what wishing I 'd never ever been born involved. I seriously questioned he would physically damage me, but the thought never left my mind. I believed he may force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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