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3 months ago, I was your everyday homemaker and mother of 3-- 2 young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman 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.
The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is boring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. I freely confess 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, unclean and disgusting .
In fantasy, I wanted everyone to understand the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want to promote 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 desire aid. I feared my sexual addiction would virtually destroy my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and perhaps end up in prison. I could not help that. Since the sex was that great, the dangers exceeded the effects. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. 8 months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her spouse is a police detective, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in typical.
I 'd never heard such shocking and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking children, dads raping young daughters, women making love with animals, mothers enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, other halves taking on troops of randy guys, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little women. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck to Staci. I felt like I had to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were constantly about somebody she knew or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I seemed like she was just fantasizing aloud, and I thought she was a really ill lady. What I discovered particularly troubling was that her vile dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an getting into virus, pressing my easy, reasonably tidy musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the included entertainer. I stopped my month-to-month 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 the house. After six months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head also. 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 almost broke my back in the effort, however a basic self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush manage was no longer enough.
Many of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We went shopping for clothes a excellent offer, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. 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 form. I have actually constantly thought about myself as being too short, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I believed of the female genitalia as a nasty crack next to a shit hole. She convinced me I was beautiful to the extreme, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfy even when suffering before her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina variation 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 comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, however hiding the result from my hubby was impossible. 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 evidence favorable or capture you in the act, I'll make you want you had actually never been born. That was it. I just nodded my understanding, however I didn't rather comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a female. He had never threatened me with divorce. I might only imagine what wanting I 'd never been born involved. Max is a big male, a male of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, however the idea never left my mind. I believed he might require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Perhaps, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He might fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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