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3 months earlier, I was your daily housewife and mom of three-- 2 kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and probably 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 tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. I easily admit I am a sex junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and filthy, dirty and revolting . In fantasy, I desired everyone to understand the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want to advertise that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the addict that understands where the dependency will lead, but does not want aid. I feared my sexual dependency would virtually damage my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and potentially wind up in prison. I couldn't assist that. The risks exceeded the consequences because the sex was that excellent. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then started her expert controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a difficult and long one for me, but nothing beneficial comes easy as my father would state. 8 months of client prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our first meeting. Her husband is a authorities 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 likewise rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a tubby face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am working on my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language godawful. In combined business, I laughed uncomfortably at her unrefined jokes, but the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never heard such shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking kids, daddies raping young children, females making love with animals, moms viewing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, better halves taking on soldiers of horny males, 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 brothers, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were constantly about someone she understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I discovered especially troubling was that her repellent fantasies worked their method into my tame dreams like an getting into infection, pushing my easy, relatively 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 daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in the house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head too. 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 nearly broke my back in the attempt, but a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush deal with was no longer enough.

We didn't constantly sit for stories. Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothing a good deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I accepted her and wore 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 used just short dresses at Staci's persistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. My boring life ended when I pertained to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female type. She persuaded me I was beautiful to the severe, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfy even when languishing before her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began with a fragrant douche and included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, but concealing the arise from my hubby was impossible. My first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max warned me not to cheat. If I ever discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof positive or catch you in the act, I'll make you want you had never ever been born. That was it. I merely nodded my understanding, however I didn't quite comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do precisely. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a female. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I could just imagine what wanting I 'd never been born involved. Max is a huge male, a guy of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, however the thought never ever left my mind. I believed he might force me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Perhaps, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a good make fun of the possibilities, however 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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