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Sex addict is the continuation and end of story of a nymphomaniac.

The second of the erotic stories with Mary Esclapez, Ms. Blume, has given his business card in LELO’s blog.

If, in the first part, the sexual tension gripped reading, now is the story that subjugates us unbridled passion,

with descriptions and dialogues that can be considered porn.

No. Sleeping with others was never a hindrance. The only difficulty was to hide scratches and bruises when he returned with him.

But how could I know? In addition, he had shot the question as if he harbored doubts about my sexual addiction …

What do you mean, Victor? I asked, awkwardly dodging the bullet.

I know you’re a nymphomaniac, ‘said Anne slowly. I know you’ve tried to fill your vice for years she went to my back.

Now I want you to front. As they do in these swinger videos that I masturbate.

Do it. Like when I imagine in the middle of a bed and surrounded by people who will try to satisfy.

Do it, as you dream when you’re in the car with a stranger …

Enough! Okay …, ‘I stopped, despechada-. What do you want me to do? I asked, still without news of my desires;

Would you werent to curb its winding accusations or to return to feel the corpora cavernosa filled my libido?

It’s not what I want, Ana replied defiantly. It has always been what you want, when you want it continued.

Or do you have to remind all you have improvised orgies? he asked, as if he had recorded each and every one of my wanderings.

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I imagined filming my most intense sexual adventures and, again, I again feel those sweeping drives.

Neither the hours nor the money I invested in therapy could stop me.

It was not connivance, complicity had my boyfriend to do so. What I was asking!

Freed at last I asked me to come to offer my body. And with theatrical elegance grabbing my hand, I am guided,

which distinguished madame would his most notable prostitute, to a chair placed in front of them.

I sat down. I looked. I opened my legs and showed my sex.

The thong was gone. The vulva is exhibited raising pink symmetrical wings of my longings bathed, when the mature man,

Victor had introduced me as cuarenton Seducer, the same who had found me on the street, he got up from the couch with his erect member, strong as a teenager dawn.

Kneeling on the chair, balancing like a puppy, I noticed as introduced his penis. The sense of relief preceded fear.

With the look, I sought the approval of my boyfriend, but he was in my ears …

Remember you’re still mine whispered, and stroked my earlobe with his lips, while mature man rammed me hard.

He penetrates you because I want -volvió whispered, and kissed me on the mouth, hushing my moans.

I know, Victor. I want more! I yelled, dam excitement.

Say it. Say you’re a sex addict ‘I ordered.

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Soy A sex addict! I’m a nymphomaniac! I shouted.

I was raised among all and put me in the same position on the couch, where they sat.

It’s your turn, Victor Lindsay said, addressing the redheaded girl.

Can not be! I cried with joy. How did you get that Lindsay Lohan wants to sleep with me?

She’s not Lindsay Lohan, she said, smiling fondly. But it is very similar …

As in my wettest dreams, where I wore a black bodysuit lingerie and she unbuttoned brackets to palparme,

false Lohan began gently caressing my lips, and offered wagered between my thighs.

No, not like Victor said, while helping her put her head between my legs.

The knocked her back, under my sex, and pressed lightly on my back, for my vulva sank on her tongue.

Hands hugging my buttocks, endless fingers down my skin, my tickets,

while his mouth was drinking at the party’s reunion with my wilder; a feast for taste and satiated with my body.

In the mouth I heard Victor, addressing the boy beards.

In the fervor, the boy undid his pants in front of my face, and dropped all the clothes on the floor. He had a tiny penis.

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Thin and small. But that did not care. I introduced full in my mouth, and ate it up, sucking as if it were the most exquisite delicacy.

All wailed. All sighed with pleasure, and the higher heard them, he ran me over. There was no way to stop me.

There was no way to stop my flow. And just when it seemed he would find no limits to my orgasms, I fell asleep on the sitting area …

Totally Clueless and with an intense headache, I opened my eyes. The alarm thundered on my nightstand.

Era My room! How had it come to my bed? Who brought me home? If it was a dream, why I felt relieved?

I had to check. Quickly, I looked at the date on the clock; It was December 12th. Can not be! What folly!

The 12 December was yesterday!

Calm down, I told myself. I pulled a parecetamol and I ran for a glass of water. I went back to bed, I sat down and began an internal dialogue.

Okay, what I learned in therapy? What my psychologist say?

Dreams, ‘I explained Ana, quiet, my therapist, are the unconscious representation of thoughts, fears,

experiences and the most hidden desires.

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And the fact that the hidden is precisely what makes them more present in your internal forum;

They are the antagonistic echo of the voices of your consciousness and moral. Walt Whitman said in a poem he continued:

“Yes, I contradict myself. And that? (I am vast, I contain multitudes.) “.

And so sweet crowds !, I thought immediately, smiling and happy memories of my dream. At the end of the day, therapy was not as bad investment …

I looked at the clock. It was getting late, and had to fix.

I wondered if he would find Victor making pancakes my dream, as he chose the hottest panties.

I dressed, and walked quickly toward the subway.

Absorbed in my dreams all the way, I was not about to get off at my stop.

And, career, almost jumping over the turnstiles, with more energy than ever before;

I left the mouth of the subway station, among a crowd of university, heading home from Victor.

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