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3 months back, I was your daily homemaker and mother of 3-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and most likely never ever would have had we not moved across 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 addict, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and filthy, filthy and horrible . In dream, I desired everyone to understand the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want to advertise that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I resembled the addict that understands where the addiction will lead, but doesn't want aid. I feared my sexual dependency would virtually ruin my marriage. I 'd lose my children and perhaps end up in prison. I could not help that. The risks surpassed the repercussions because the sex was that good. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, learnt more about me, inside and out, then started her specialist manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a long and tough one for me, however nothing beneficial comes easy as my dad would say. 8 months of patient prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first meeting. Her spouse is a cops detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common. I found her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also 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 godawful. In combined business, I chuckled uneasily at her unrefined jokes, but the stories she informed 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, mom's fucking sons, fathers raping young daughters, ladies having sex with animals, mothers seeing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, wives taking on troops of horny men, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little girls. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck with Staci. I seemed like I needed to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were constantly about somebody she knew or found out about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I felt like she was merely daydreaming aloud, and I believed she was a really ill female. What I discovered particularly troubling was that her disgusting dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an getting into infection, pressing my basic, relatively tidy musings of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically 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 daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in the house. After six months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head as well. She informed 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 whirl. I almost broke my back in the effort, however a basic self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush handle was no longer enough.

We didn't always sit for stories. Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, offering me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We looked for clothes a good deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe manager. I accepted her and used what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, throwing out every pair of trousers I owned. I used just short gowns at Staci's insistence. 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 perfect female type. She encouraged me I was beautiful to the extreme, specifically between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfy even when suffering before her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a fragrant 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 hiding the result from my hubby was difficult. 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 actually never ever been born. That was it. I just nodded my understanding, however I didn't quite comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do precisely. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a woman. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could only picture what wishing I 'd never been born required. Max is a huge man, a man of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, however the idea never left my mind. I thought he may require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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