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3 months back, I was your everyday homemaker and mom of 3-- 2 boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and probably never ever would have had we not moved throughout the street from Staci and Joe. The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my boredom 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 unclean, revolting and filthy . In dream, I wanted everyone to know the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want to promote that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the addict that knows where the addiction will lead, but does not desire help. The dangers exceeded the consequences because the sex was that good. I like Staci for what she's done. 8 months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first meeting. Her husband is a police investigator, 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 uneasily at her crude jokes, but the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never heard such stunning and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking sons, daddies raping young daughters, ladies making love with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, spouses taking on troops of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. I felt like I had to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were constantly about someone she knew or found out about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I felt like she was just daydreaming out loud, and I thought she was a really sick woman. What I discovered especially troubling was that her vile fantasies worked their way into my tame fantasies like an getting into infection, pushing my basic, relatively clean visions of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the featured performer. I stopped my month-to-month 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, throughout your house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head.

We didn't constantly sit for stories. Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, giving me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We purchased clothing a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I deferred to her and wore what she chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, tossing out every pair of trousers I owned. I used only brief dresses at Staci's insistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my role 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 form. She encouraged me I was beautiful to the severe, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfortable even when languishing before her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began with a scented 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, however concealing the result from my partner was impossible. My first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max cautioned me not to cheat. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never been born. That was it. I just nodded my understanding, but 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 actually never threatened me with divorce. I could only imagine what wanting I 'd never ever been born required. Max is a huge man, a male of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, however the idea never ever left my mind. I thought he may require me to undergo a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that released Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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