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Three months back, I was your daily housewife and mother of three-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My hubby, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and probably never would have had we stagnated across the street from Staci and Joe. I was so straight if I masturbated more than when a month, I felt guilty. The life of a housewife with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. I freely confess I am a sex addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and filthy, unclean and revolting . In dream, I desired everybody to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't want to market that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the junkie that knows where the addiction will lead, but does not want help. I feared my sexual addiction would practically ruin my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and possibly end up in prison. I could not help that. Because the sex was that great, the risks surpassed the consequences. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then started her expert manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a long and tough one for me, however nothing worthwhile comes easy as my father would say. 8 months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first meeting. Her husband is a authorities detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common.

I 'd never ever heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking kids, dads raping young children, females making love with animals, moms watching dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, spouses taking on troops of randy 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 bros, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about someone she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I discovered particularly disturbing was that her repellent fantasies worked their method into my tame fantasies like an attacking infection, pressing my simple, fairly tidy visions of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my month-to-month practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and began a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in your house. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.

We didn't constantly sit for stories. The majority 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 bought clothing a good deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I deferred to her and used what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, throwing out every pair of pants I owned. I wore only short gowns at Staci's insistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. My uninteresting life ended when I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female kind. I have constantly considered myself as being too brief, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. In addition, I thought of the female genitalia as a nasty crack next to a shit hole. She persuaded me I was lovely to the severe, specifically between my legs. This took some convincing, but 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 started with a scented douche and included 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 partner was difficult. My first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max warned me not to cheat. If I ever discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you want you had actually never been born. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could just picture what wanting I 'd never been born required. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, but the idea never left my mind. I believed he may require me to go through a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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