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Three months back, I was your everyday housewife and mom of 3-- 2 boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and most likely never would have had we not moved throughout the street from Staci and Joe.
The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. I easily confess I am a sex addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and dirty, filthy and disgusting .
In dream, I wanted everybody to know the new me. In reality, I didn't want to advertise 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 addiction will lead, but doesn't desire help. The dangers outweighed the consequences because the sex was that good. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, learnt more about me, inside and out, then began her specialist manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a tough and long one for me, however absolutely nothing rewarding comes easy as my dad would say. 8 months of client prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her husband is a cops detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely 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 pudgy 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 combined company, I chuckled uncomfortably at her crude jokes, but the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.
I 'd never ever heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking kids, fathers raping young children, females having sex with animals, mothers enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, other halves handling soldiers of horny men, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little girls. She had my head swimming in a overload 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 had to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were constantly about someone she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. I seemed like she was merely daydreaming aloud, and I thought she was a extremely ill female. What I found especially troubling was that her repellent dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an invading infection, pushing my easy, fairly tidy visions of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, frequently with me as the included performer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and started a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout the house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head too. 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 offer it a whirl. 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.
Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We shopped for clothing a fantastic offer, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe manager. I wore just short gowns at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female form. She convinced me I was lovely to the severe, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfortable even when languishing prior to her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a fragrant douche and included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, however hiding the result from my hubby was difficult. 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 favorable or capture you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never been born. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I might just picture what wanting I 'd never been born entailed. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, but the idea never left my mind. I believed he may require me to go through a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. 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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