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Three months ago, I was your daily housewife and mom of 3-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman 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 not moved across the street from Staci and Joe. I was so straight if I masturbated more than as soon as a month, I felt guilty. The life of a housewife with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony 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 filthy, disgusting and dirty . 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 was like the addict that knows where the addiction will lead, but doesn't want help. I feared my sexual dependency would practically destroy my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and possibly end up in prison. I couldn't help that. The threats exceeded the effects because the sex was that excellent. I love Staci for what she's done. 8 months of client prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her husband is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common. In fact, I found her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a chubby face. She left of high school, whereas I am working on my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language godawful. In mixed company, I chuckled uncomfortably at her crude jokes, but the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never heard such shocking and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking boys, dads raping young daughters, women making love with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, other halves taking on soldiers of randy guys, blacks on whites, old with young, canines on little girls. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, so I was stuck to Staci. I seemed like I had to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were constantly about someone she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. I seemed like she was merely fantasizing out loud, and I thought she was a really ill female. What I found especially disturbing was that her disgusting fantasies worked their way into my tame dreams like an getting into virus, pushing my simple, reasonably tidy visions of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my month-to-month practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and began a daily 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. 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 give it a whirl. I practically broke my back in the attempt, however a basic self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush handle was no longer enough.

Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We went shopping for clothes a terrific offer, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I wore only short gowns at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female kind. I have always thought of myself as being too brief, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I believed of the female genitalia as a nasty fracture next to a shit hole. She persuaded me I was beautiful to the severe, specifically between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfortable even when languishing prior to her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began with a scented 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 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 evidence positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never ever been born. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I might only picture what wishing I 'd never been born required. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, but the thought never left my mind. I believed he might require me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Possibly, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He might fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a excellent make fun of the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that launched Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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