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3 months ago, I was your everyday homemaker and mom of 3-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl 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 homemaker with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. I freely admit I am a sex addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and filthy, unclean and disgusting . In dream, I wanted everybody to know the brand-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 dependency will lead, however does not want assistance. The dangers surpassed the consequences because the sex was that great. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, learnt more about me, inside and out, then began her professional manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a challenging and long one for me, however nothing rewarding comes easy as my daddy would say. Eight months of patient prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her hubby is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in typical.

I 'd never heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, dads raping young children, ladies having sex with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, wives taking on troops of horny males, blacks on whites, old with young, canines on little ladies. 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 always about someone she understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I discovered especially troubling was that her vile dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking virus, pressing my basic, reasonably tidy daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my monthly 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 home. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I found out 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 make-up, providing me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We bought clothing a good deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe manager. I accepted her and used what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, throwing out every set of pants I owned. I used just brief dresses at Staci's persistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. My dull life ended when I pertained to accept my function as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female type. I have actually always thought about myself as being too short, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Furthermore, I considered the female genitalia as a nasty crack beside a shit hole. She persuaded me I was lovely to the extreme, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfy even when suffering before her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina 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 thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, however concealing the arise from my husband was difficult. My very first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max alerted me not to cheat. If I ever find 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 actually never been born. That was it. I simply 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 hit a lady. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I might just envision what wishing I 'd never been born involved. Max is a big guy, a guy of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically hurt me, however the thought never ever left my mind. I thought he might require me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that launched Staci's crusade to begin me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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