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3 months earlier, I was your everyday housewife and mother of 3-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever 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 housewife with all kids in school is boring to the extreme. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. I easily confess 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, dirty and horrible . In dream, I wanted everyone to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't want to advertise that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I resembled the junkie that understands where the addiction will lead, but doesn't desire assistance. I feared my sexual dependency would essentially ruin my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and possibly wind up in prison. I could not assist that. The risks surpassed the consequences because the sex was that excellent. I like Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, learnt more about me, inside and out, then started her expert manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a long and difficult one for me, but nothing beneficial comes easy as my daddy would state. 8 months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her hubby is a police detective, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had nothing in typical.

I 'd never ever heard such shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking boys, fathers raping young children, ladies having sex with animals, moms watching dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, other halves handling troops of randy males, blacks on whites, old with young, canines on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were constantly about somebody she understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I discovered especially disturbing was that her repellent dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an invading infection, pushing my basic, relatively tidy visions of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured 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, throughout your house. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.

Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, providing me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothing a great offer, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet manager. I wore only short dresses at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female type. I have always thought about myself as being too short, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Moreover, I considered the female genitalia as a nasty crack beside a shit hole. She encouraged me I was gorgeous to the extreme, specifically between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfy even when suffering prior to her with my legs wide 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 involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, but concealing the result from my husband was impossible. My first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max warned 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 ever been born. That was it. I just nodded my understanding, but I didn't quite comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a female. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could just envision what wanting I 'd never ever been born involved. Max is a huge guy, a male of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, however the idea never left my mind. I believed he may require 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 great laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that released Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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