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Three months ago, I was your daily housewife and mother of three-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My spouse, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and most likely never would have had we not moved across the street from Staci and Joe. I was so straight if I masturbated more than when a month, I felt guilty.
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 whore, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and filthy, revolting and filthy .
In fantasy, I wanted everyone to know the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want to market that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.
I was like the addict that knows where the dependency will lead, but does not desire help. I feared my sexual addiction would virtually damage my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and potentially wind up in prison. I couldn't assist that. Because the sex was that good, the dangers surpassed the repercussions. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, learnt more about me, inside and out, then started her professional adjustments that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a challenging and long one for me, but absolutely nothing beneficial comes easy as my dad would say. 8 months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our first conference. Her other half is a authorities detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in typical.
I 'd never heard such stunning and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking children, fathers raping young children, ladies having sex with animals, moms viewing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, wives handling troops of randy guys, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little women. 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 somebody she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I discovered particularly disturbing was that her disgusting dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an getting into virus, pressing my simple, reasonably tidy daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the included entertainer. 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 your house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.
We didn't constantly sit for stories. The majority of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We purchased clothing a good deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I accepted 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 only short dresses at Staci's persistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. My boring life ended when I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female kind. I have constantly thought of myself as being too brief, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I believed of the female genitalia as a nasty crack next to a shit hole. She convinced me I was lovely to the extreme, particularly in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfortable even when languishing before 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 fragrant douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, however hiding the result from my spouse was impossible. My very first cunnicure triggered 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 find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof positive 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 imagine what wishing I 'd never been born involved. I seriously questioned he would physically damage me, but the thought never left my mind. I thought he might force me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Maybe, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that launched Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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