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3 months ago, I was your daily housewife and mother of three-- 2 kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and most likely never ever would have had we not moved across the street from Staci and Joe.
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 freely confess I am a sex addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and dirty, filthy and disgusting .
In dream, I wanted everyone to understand the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't wish to advertise that fact, however 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, however doesn't desire aid. I feared my sexual dependency would essentially destroy my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and perhaps wind up in prison. I couldn't help that. Due to the fact that the sex was that excellent, the dangers outweighed the repercussions. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then began her expert manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a long and challenging one for me, but absolutely nothing worthwhile comes easy as my father would say. Eight months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her husband 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 shocking and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking boys, fathers raping young daughters, females making love with animals, moms enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, wives handling troops of horny males, 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 bros, so I was stuck with Staci. I felt like I needed to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were always about somebody she understood or became aware of, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. I seemed like she was just thinking out loud, and I believed she was a really ill lady. What I found particularly troubling was that her repellent dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an invading virus, pressing my simple, fairly clean visions of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the featured 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, throughout your home. After six months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head as well. She informed 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 simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush deal with was no longer enough.
Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, giving me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothes a fantastic offer, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I used only short dresses at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female kind. She persuaded me I was beautiful to the extreme, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfortable even when suffering before 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 thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, but hiding the arise from my husband was difficult. My first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max alerted me not to cheat. If I ever discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you want you had never ever been born. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I could just picture what wanting I 'd never been born involved. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, however the idea never left my mind. I thought he might force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that launched Staci's crusade to begin me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.
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