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Three months ago, I was your everyday housewife and mom of three-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My partner, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's workplace. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and probably 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 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 addict, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and unclean, dirty and revolting . In dream, I desired everybody to know the new me. In reality, I didn't wish to promote that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the junkie that knows where the dependency will lead, however does not desire help. I feared my sexual addiction would essentially damage my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and possibly end up in prison. I couldn't help that. Since the sex was that good, the risks outweighed the effects. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, got to know me, inside and out, then began her expert controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a challenging and long one for me, however nothing rewarding comes easy as my daddy would state. 8 months of client prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her hubby is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common.

I 'd never heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking sons, daddies raping young children, women having sex with animals, mothers viewing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, partners taking on soldiers of horny guys, blacks on whites, old with young, canines on little women. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were constantly about someone she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found particularly troubling was that her vile fantasies worked their way into my tame dreams like an getting into infection, pushing my easy, fairly tidy visions of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, often with me as the included entertainer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and began a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your home. After six 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. Most 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 shopped for clothes a good deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I deferred to her and used what she chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, tossing out every pair of pants I owned. I wore just brief dresses at Staci's insistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. My dull life ended when I pertained to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female form. She encouraged me I was lovely to the severe, 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 scented douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, but hiding the arise from my spouse was difficult. My very first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max cautioned me not to cheat. If I ever discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof favorable or capture you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never ever been born. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I might just picture what wishing I 'd never been born required. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, but the thought never ever left my mind. I thought he might 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 introduced Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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