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Three months ago, I was your everyday housewife and mother of 3-- 2 boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and probably never would have had we not moved throughout the street from Staci and Joe. 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 easily confess I am a sex junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and unclean, filthy and horrible . In dream, I desired everybody to know the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want 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 knows where the addiction will lead, however doesn't want help. The dangers exceeded the consequences since the sex was that good. I like Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, learnt more about me, inside and out, then began her specialist manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a long and hard one for me, however nothing beneficial comes easy as my father would say. Eight months of client prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first meeting. Her other half is a authorities detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common. I found her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a pudgy face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language atrocious. In combined business, I chuckled uneasily at her crude jokes, but the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never ever heard such shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking sons, dads raping young daughters, ladies making love with animals, moms watching dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, wives taking on troops of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little women. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck with Staci. I felt like I needed to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were constantly about somebody she knew or found out about, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. I seemed like she was merely daydreaming aloud, and I believed she was a very ill woman. What I discovered especially disturbing was that her repellent fantasies worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking virus, pushing my simple, fairly clean visions of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, often with me as the featured performer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and started a daily 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 idea 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 cosmetics, giving me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We purchased clothes a lot, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet supervisor. I deferred to her and used what she picked out. 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 persistence. I became 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 kind. I have actually constantly thought about myself as being too brief, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I believed of the female genitalia as a nasty crack next to a shit hole. She convinced me I was stunning to the extreme, specifically in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfy even when suffering prior to her with my legs broad 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 involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, however concealing the arise from my husband was impossible. My very first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max alerted me not to cheat. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence positive or catch you in the act, I'll make you want you had never been born. That was it. I merely nodded my understanding, however I didn't quite understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a female. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I could only imagine what wanting I 'd never been born involved. Max is a big man, a guy of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically hurt me, however the idea never ever left my mind. I thought he may require me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Possibly, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He might fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a great make fun of 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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