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3 months earlier, I was your daily housewife and mother of three-- 2 kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman 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 homemaker with all kids in school is boring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. I easily admit I am a sex junkie, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and dirty, horrible and filthy . In fantasy, I desired everybody to know 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 was like the addict that understands where the addiction will lead, but does not want help. The dangers surpassed the consequences because the sex was that great. I like Staci for what she's done. 8 months of client prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her partner is a cops detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common.

I 'd never ever heard such shocking and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking sons, daddies raping young daughters, females having sex with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, better halves handling soldiers of horny guys, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, so I was stuck to Staci. I felt like I had to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were constantly about someone she knew or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I felt like she was simply daydreaming aloud, and I believed she was a extremely ill female. What I found especially disturbing was that her disgusting dreams worked their method into my tame fantasies like an attacking virus, pushing my simple, reasonably clean daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw 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 house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I discovered 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 make-up, offering me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We looked for clothes a good deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe manager. I deferred to her and used 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 just short gowns at Staci's persistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. My dull life ended when I concerned accept my role as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female type. I have actually constantly considered myself as being too brief, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Furthermore, I considered the female genitalia as a nasty fracture next to a shit hole. She encouraged me I was stunning to the severe, particularly in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfortable even when suffering prior to her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started 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 hiding the result from my other half was difficult. My very first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max alerted me not to cheat. If I ever find 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 been born. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could just envision what wanting I 'd never been born involved. I seriously questioned he would physically damage me, however the idea never left my mind. I believed he might require me to go through a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that released Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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