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3 months earlier, I was your everyday homemaker and mom of three-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and most likely 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 boring to the extreme. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. I freely admit I am a sex addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and unclean, revolting and filthy . In dream, I wanted everybody to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't wish to promote that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I resembled the addict that knows where the dependency will lead, but does not desire aid. I feared my sexual dependency would practically ruin my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and perhaps end up in prison. I could not help that. The dangers outweighed the consequences since 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 manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a hard and long one for me, however nothing worthwhile comes easy as my dad would state. Eight months of patient prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first meeting. Her partner 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 chubby face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am working on my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language atrocious. In blended company, I laughed uncomfortably at her crude jokes, but the stories she informed me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never heard such stunning and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking kids, daddies raping young children, women having sex with animals, mothers viewing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, partners handling soldiers of horny guys, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about someone she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I discovered particularly troubling was that her disgusting dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an getting into infection, pushing my easy, relatively clean musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and started a everyday session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your home. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head. She told 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 offer it a try. I almost broke my back in the effort, however a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush deal with was no longer enough.

We didn't always sit for stories. Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, giving me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We looked for clothes a great deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I accepted her and wore what she chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, tossing out every pair of pants I owned. I used only brief gowns at Staci's persistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. My boring life ended when I came to accept my function as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female kind. I have actually always considered myself as being too short, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Furthermore, I considered the female genitalia as a nasty fracture next to a shit hole. She persuaded me I was gorgeous to the extreme, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfortable 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 started with a aromatic 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 result from my other half was impossible. My very 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 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 ever been born. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could only picture what wishing I 'd never ever been born required. I seriously questioned he would physically hurt me, however the idea never ever left my mind. I thought he might require me to undergo a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good 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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