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Three months ago, I was your daily housewife and mother of 3-- 2 kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. 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. 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 slut, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and dirty, revolting and filthy . In fantasy, I wanted everybody to understand the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't wish to promote 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 dependency will lead, but does not desire assistance. The risks outweighed the effects due to the fact that the sex was that good. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, learnt more about me, inside and out, then began her specialist controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a long and hard one for me, however absolutely nothing rewarding comes easy as my father would state. 8 months of patient prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her hubby is a authorities investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in typical.

I 'd never heard such shocking and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking kids, fathers raping young daughters, ladies making love with animals, moms enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, partners handling soldiers of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, pets 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 always about somebody she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I found particularly disturbing was that her repellent fantasies worked their way into my tame fantasies like an invading virus, pressing my basic, relatively tidy daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the featured performer. I stopped my month-to-month practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and started a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in your house. After six months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head. She told 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 provide it a try. I nearly broke my back in the effort, however a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush manage was no longer enough.

We didn't constantly sit for stories. Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We purchased clothing a lot, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I accepted her and wore 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 only short gowns at Staci's insistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. My uninteresting 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 best female form. I have always thought about myself as being too brief, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Moreover, I considered the female genitalia as a nasty crack beside a shit hole. She convinced me I was stunning to the severe, specifically in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfortable even when languishing prior to her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a aromatic 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, but concealing the result from my spouse was impossible. 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 find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence positive or catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had actually never ever been born. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I could only imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born entailed. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, but the idea never ever left my mind. I believed he may require me to go through a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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