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Three months ago, I was your everyday homemaker and mom of three-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl 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 housewife with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. I easily confess 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 unclean, revolting and unclean .
In fantasy, I wanted everyone to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't wish to advertise that fact, but 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, however does not want help. I feared my sexual addiction would practically damage my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and potentially end up in prison. I couldn't help that. The threats surpassed the consequences since the sex was that excellent. 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 first conference. Her partner is a authorities investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in typical.
I 'd never heard such stunning and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking kids, daddies raping young children, women having sex with animals, mothers seeing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, wives taking on troops of randy males, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little girls. 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 constantly about someone she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I found particularly disturbing was that her repellent dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking virus, pressing my simple, fairly clean daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, frequently with me as the included entertainer. I stopped my month-to-month practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and started 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 found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.
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, providing me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We bought clothing a great deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I deferred to her and used what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, tossing out every set of trousers I owned. I wore just brief dresses at Staci's persistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my function as a living Barbie Doll, my uninteresting life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female form. She persuaded me I was stunning to the severe, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfortable even when suffering 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 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, but 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 marital relationship, Max cautioned 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 wish you had never been born. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I could only envision what wanting I 'd never ever been born involved. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, however the idea never left my mind. I believed he might force 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 begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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