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Three months earlier, I was your daily homemaker and mom of three-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and probably never would have had we not moved throughout the street from Staci and Joe. The life of a homemaker 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 junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and dirty, disgusting and unclean . In fantasy, I desired everyone to understand 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 knows where the dependency will lead, however doesn't want aid. I feared my sexual dependency would essentially ruin my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and perhaps wind up in prison. I could not assist that. Because the sex was that great, the risks exceeded the effects. I like Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, learnt more about me, inside and out, then began her professional controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a challenging and long one for me, however absolutely nothing worthwhile comes easy as my daddy would state. 8 months of patient prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her husband is a authorities detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common.

I 'd never ever heard such shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking kids, fathers raping young daughters, females having sex with animals, moms enjoying dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, spouses taking on soldiers of horny guys, 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 someone she understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I discovered especially troubling was that her repellent fantasies worked their way into my tame fantasies like an invading virus, pushing my easy, fairly tidy daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the included performer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and began a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in your house. 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 invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, giving me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We looked for clothing a good deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe manager. I deferred to her and wore what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, throwing out every pair of pants I owned. I used only brief gowns at Staci's persistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll, my dull life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female form. She convinced me I was gorgeous to the extreme, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon 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 began with a scented douche and included 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 husband was difficult. My 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 discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never been born. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I could just imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born entailed. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, however the thought never ever left my mind. I believed he may force me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Possibly, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He might fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that launched Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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