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3 months ago, I was your daily housewife and mom of three-- 2 boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever 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 dullness and made me what I am today. I easily confess I am a sex addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and unclean, dirty and revolting . In dream, I desired everybody to know the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't wish to promote that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I resembled the junkie that knows where the dependency will lead, however does not desire assistance. I feared my sexual addiction would practically destroy my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and possibly end up in prison. I couldn't help that. Because the sex was that great, the dangers outweighed the repercussions. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. Eight months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her hubby is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in typical.

I 'd never heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking boys, fathers raping young children, women having sex with animals, mothers watching dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, other halves handling soldiers of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little girls. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were constantly about somebody she understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found especially troubling was that her vile dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking infection, pressing my easy, relatively clean musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured performer. I stopped my monthly 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, anywhere in the house. After six 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 nearly broke my back in the effort, but a easy self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush deal with was no longer enough.

Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, giving me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We shopped for clothes a great offer, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet supervisor. I wore only brief gowns at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female form. She persuaded me I was gorgeous to the severe, specifically between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfortable even when languishing prior to her with my legs broad 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 involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, but concealing the arise from my husband was difficult. My first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max cautioned me not to cheat. I keep in mind being incensed at the mere recommendation. This time, I listened diligently as he said, Theresa, I'm not the type of man that lives in worry of his wife unfaithful on him. I will not have you followed. I won't question your activities or the method you dress. I will not sleuth or ask questions. You can go and come as you please. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. I'll make you wish you had actually never ever been born if I ever get evidence positive or catch you in the act. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I could just picture what wishing I 'd never been born required. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, however the thought never left my mind. I thought he may require me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Maybe, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, but 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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