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Three months earlier, I was your daily homemaker and mother of three-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and most likely never ever would have had we not moved across the street from Staci and Joe. The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. I easily admit 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 filthy, horrible and dirty . In dream, I wanted everybody to understand the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't wish to promote that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I resembled the addict that knows where the addiction will lead, however doesn't desire help. I feared my sexual dependency would virtually damage my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and potentially end up in prison. I could not assist that. Since the sex was that great, the threats exceeded the effects. I like Staci for what she's done. 8 months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her spouse is a police detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common. I found 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 dealing with my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language godawful. In combined business, I chuckled uncomfortably at her crude jokes, however the stories she informed me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never heard such stunning and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking kids, dads raping young children, females having sex with animals, mothers seeing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, other halves handling soldiers of horny males, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a overload 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 about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I discovered especially troubling was that her disgusting fantasies worked their method into my tame dreams like an invading virus, pushing my easy, fairly tidy daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, frequently with me as the included entertainer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and began a everyday session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your home. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head as well. 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 simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush handle was no longer enough.

Many of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, offering me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We went shopping for clothes a great deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I used only short gowns at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female kind. She encouraged me I was stunning to the extreme, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfy even when suffering before her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area version 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 comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, but concealing the arise from my other half was difficult. My first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max cautioned me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the simple recommendation. This time, I listened diligently as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the kind of guy that resides in worry of his better half cheating on him. I won't have you followed. I will not question your activities or the method you dress. I won't snoop or ask concerns. You can go and come as you please. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. I'll make you want you had actually never ever been born if I ever get proof favorable or catch you in the act. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could just envision what wishing I 'd never been born involved. I seriously questioned he would physically hurt me, however the idea never ever left my mind. I thought he may require me to go through a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that released Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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