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3 months back, I was your daily homemaker 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 homemaker with all kids in school is tiring 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 desire my sex down and dirty, revolting and unclean . In dream, I wanted everybody to understand the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want to market that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the junkie that knows where the addiction will lead, however doesn't desire aid. The threats surpassed the consequences since the sex was that great. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with 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, but absolutely nothing rewarding comes easy as my daddy would say. 8 months of patient prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her partner is a police detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common.

I 'd never heard such stunning and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking kids, daddies raping young daughters, women making love with animals, moms enjoying dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, spouses taking on troops of horny men, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little women. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about somebody she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I found especially disturbing was that her repellent fantasies worked their method into my tame fantasies like an invading virus, pushing my simple, reasonably tidy musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the included performer. 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 the house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.

We didn't always 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 continuously. We looked for clothing a lot, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I accepted her and wore what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, throwing out every set of pants I owned. I wore just brief dresses at Staci's insistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my function as a living Barbie Doll, my boring life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female type. She convinced me I was stunning to the extreme, specifically in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfy even when languishing prior to her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a scented douche and included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, however concealing the arise 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 cautioned me not to cheat. If I ever discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence positive or catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had actually never been born. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could only envision what wishing I 'd never ever been born required. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, however the idea never ever left my mind. I thought he might require me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, but 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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