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Three months earlier, I was your everyday housewife and mom of three-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. My spouse, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and most likely never ever would have had we stagnated across the street from Staci and Joe. I was so straight if I masturbated more than as soon as a month, I felt guilty. The life of a housewife with all kids in school is boring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. I easily admit I am a sex addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and filthy, revolting and unclean . In fantasy, I wanted everyone to understand the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't wish to market that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the junkie that understands where the addiction will lead, but does not want help. I feared my sexual dependency would practically ruin my marriage. I 'd lose my children and possibly end up in prison. I could not assist that. Due to the fact that the sex was that great, the risks exceeded the effects. I like Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, got to know me, inside and out, then began her specialist controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a long and tough one for me, however nothing rewarding comes easy as my father would say. 8 months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first meeting. Her hubby is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common.

I 'd never heard such shocking and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking kids, dads raping young daughters, ladies making love with animals, mothers viewing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, other halves handling soldiers of randy males, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little women. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were constantly about somebody she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I discovered particularly disturbing was that her vile dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an getting into virus, pushing my easy, relatively tidy daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, often with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my month-to-month practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and started a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in the house. After six months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head.

We didn't always sit for stories. Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We purchased clothing a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I accepted her and used what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, tossing out every pair of pants I owned. I wore only short gowns at Staci's persistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my function as a living Barbie Doll, my uninteresting life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female type. She convinced me I was stunning to the extreme, particularly in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfortable even when languishing prior to her with my legs large 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 thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, but hiding the result from my hubby was difficult. My very 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 find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you want you had actually never been born. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I might just imagine what wanting I 'd never been born involved. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, but the thought never left my mind. I believed he might force 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, oddly enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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