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Three months back, I was your daily homemaker and mom of three-- 2 boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My hubby, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and most likely never ever would have had we stagnated across the street from Staci and Joe. I was so straight if I masturbated more than once a month, I felt guilty. 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 admit I am a sex junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and dirty, filthy and horrible . In fantasy, I wanted everybody to know the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want to promote that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I resembled the addict that understands where the dependency will lead, however doesn't want aid. I feared my sexual dependency would virtually ruin my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and potentially end up in prison. I could not assist that. Since the sex was that good, the threats surpassed the effects. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then started her expert adjustments that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a long and tough one for me, but absolutely nothing worthwhile comes easy as my dad would say. 8 months of patient prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our first meeting. Her hubby is a police detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common.

I 'd never ever heard such stunning and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking children, dads raping young daughters, ladies making love with animals, mothers watching dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, spouses taking on soldiers of randy males, 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. I seemed like I had to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were always about someone she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. I felt like she was merely daydreaming out loud, and I thought she was a very ill female. What I discovered particularly troubling was that her disgusting dreams worked their method into my tame dreams like an getting into virus, pushing my basic, fairly clean daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, often with me as the featured performer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and started a everyday session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in 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 as well. 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 almost broke my back in the effort, however a easy self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush deal with was no longer enough.

We didn't always sit for stories. The majority of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We purchased clothing a good deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet supervisor. I deferred to her and wore what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, tossing out every pair of pants I owned. I wore only short dresses 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 type. She persuaded me I was stunning to the extreme, particularly in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfy even when languishing before 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 fragrant douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, but concealing the arise from my other half was difficult. My very first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, 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 want you had actually never been born. That was it. I simply nodded my understanding, however I didn't quite comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do precisely. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a woman. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could just imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born entailed. Max is a big male, a man of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically hurt me, but the thought never ever left my mind. I thought he might require me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Perhaps, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that launched Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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