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Three months earlier, I was your everyday homemaker and mom of 3-- 2 kids, 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 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 boredom and made me what I am today. I easily admit I am a sex addict, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and filthy, revolting and unclean . In fantasy, I desired everybody to know the 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 understands where the addiction will lead, but doesn't want assistance. The risks exceeded the effects since the sex was that great. I like Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, got to know me, inside and out, then began her specialist adjustments that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a hard and long one for me, but nothing worthwhile comes easy as my dad would state. Eight months of patient prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her hubby is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common. In fact, I discovered her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a pudgy face. She left of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language atrocious. In combined business, I laughed uncomfortably at her crude jokes, however the stories she informed me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never heard such stunning and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking children, fathers raping young daughters, females having sex with animals, mothers viewing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, other halves handling troops of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, canines on little women. She had my head swimming in a swamp 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 especially troubling was that her disgusting dreams worked their method into my tame fantasies like an invading virus, pushing my basic, relatively clean visions of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my regular monthly 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 home. After six months of Staci's stories, I found out 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 cosmetics, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We purchased clothes a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet supervisor. I accepted her and wore what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, throwing out every set of trousers I owned. I used only brief gowns at Staci's insistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll, my boring life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female form. She persuaded me I was lovely to the severe, specifically 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 started with a aromatic douche and included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, however hiding the arise from my husband 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 alerted me not to cheat. If I ever discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never 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 exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a lady. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I might only imagine what wishing I 'd never been born entailed. Max is a big male, a man of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, however the thought never ever left my mind. I thought he may require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Possibly, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a excellent make fun of the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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