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3 months ago, I was your daily homemaker and mother of 3-- 2 kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and most likely never would have had we not moved across the street from Staci and Joe. The life of a housewife with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. I freely confess I am a sex addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and unclean, disgusting and unclean . In fantasy, I desired everyone to know the new me. In reality, I didn't want to market 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 dependency will lead, but doesn't desire aid. I feared my sexual dependency would essentially damage my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and perhaps end up in prison. I could not help that. The dangers outweighed the effects since the sex was that great. I love Staci for what she's done. Eight months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her spouse is a cops investigator, 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, mother's fucking sons, fathers raping young children, females making love with animals, mothers watching dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, partners taking on troops of horny 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 felt like I needed to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were always about someone she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I felt like she was just fantasizing aloud, and I thought she was a really ill woman. What I discovered particularly disturbing was that her disgusting fantasies worked their way into my tame fantasies like an getting into virus, pressing my easy, fairly tidy visions of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and started 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 concept 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 provide it a whirl. I almost broke my back in the effort, but a easy self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush manage was no longer enough.

Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We shopped for clothes a terrific offer, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet supervisor. I used just short dresses at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female type. She encouraged me I was beautiful to the severe, specifically between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfy 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 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 arise from my partner was impossible. My very first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max warned me not to cheat. If I ever discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof positive or catch you in the act, I'll make you want you had never been born. That was it. I just nodded my understanding, but I didn't rather comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a woman. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I might only envision what wishing I 'd never been born involved. Max is a huge man, a male of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically damage me, however the idea never ever left my mind. I believed he might require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Possibly, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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