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3 months ago, I was your everyday housewife and mother of 3-- 2 boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My other half, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's workplace. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and probably never would have had we stagnated across the street from Staci and Joe. I was so straight if I masturbated more than when a month, I felt guilty. 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 admit I am a sex addict, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and unclean, horrible and filthy . In dream, I desired everybody to understand the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't wish to market that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the junkie that knows where the dependency will lead, however doesn't want assistance. I feared my sexual addiction would practically ruin my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and perhaps end up in prison. I could not help that. The threats outweighed the repercussions because the sex was that good. I like Staci for what she's done. Eight months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first meeting. Her spouse is a authorities investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common.

I 'd never ever heard such shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking children, daddies raping young children, females making love with animals, mothers viewing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, spouses taking on soldiers of randy men, 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 siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. I felt like I needed to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were always about someone she knew or became aware of, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I seemed like she was merely daydreaming out loud, and I thought she was a really sick female. What I discovered particularly disturbing was that her disgusting fantasies worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking virus, pushing my simple, fairly clean visions of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the included performer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and started a everyday session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in your home. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.

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 constantly. We went shopping for clothing a great deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe manager. I used just brief dresses at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female type. I have always thought about myself as being too short, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Moreover, I considered the female genitalia as a nasty fracture beside a shit hole. She encouraged me I was gorgeous to the severe, especially 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 hubby 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. If I ever discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never been born. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I could only picture what wanting I 'd never ever been born involved. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, however the thought never left my mind. I believed he might require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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