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3 months ago, I was your everyday homemaker and mom of three-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and most likely never ever would have had we not moved throughout the street from Staci and Joe. The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is boring to the extreme. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. I easily confess I am a sex addict, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and unclean, dirty and horrible . In dream, I desired everyone to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't wish 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 dependency will lead, but doesn't want help. I feared my sexual addiction would virtually ruin my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and perhaps end up in prison. I could not assist that. Since the sex was that great, the dangers exceeded the consequences. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. Eight months of client prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first meeting. Her spouse is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. 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 kids, dads raping young daughters, females having sex with animals, mothers enjoying dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, other halves taking on soldiers of randy males, 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 brothers, 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 found particularly troubling was that her disgusting fantasies worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking virus, pushing my basic, fairly clean daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the included performer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and started a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in the house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I learned 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 spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, offering me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We bought clothes a lot, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I deferred to her and wore what she chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, throwing out every set of trousers I owned. I used only brief dresses at Staci's persistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. My boring life ended when I concerned accept my function as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female kind. She encouraged me I was stunning to the severe, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfortable even when languishing prior to her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began 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 perfume. I liked her manicures, however hiding the arise from my hubby was impossible. My very first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max cautioned 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 ever been born. That was it. I simply nodded my understanding, however I didn't rather understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do precisely. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a lady. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I could only envision what wishing I 'd never ever been born required. Max is a huge guy, a male of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, but the thought never ever left my mind. I believed he might 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, oddly enough, that launched Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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