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3 months earlier, I was your everyday homemaker and mom of 3-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and probably never would have had we not moved throughout the street from Staci and Joe. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. Sex is all I believe about, and no perversion turns me off. 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 knows where the dependency will lead, however does not want help. I feared my sexual addiction would practically damage my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and possibly end up in prison. I couldn't assist that. Since the sex was that good, the threats exceeded the repercussions. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then began her specialist manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a long and tough one for me, however absolutely nothing worthwhile comes easy as my father would say. Eight months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her husband is a authorities detective, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had nothing in typical.

I 'd never heard such shocking and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking sons, fathers raping young children, females having sex with animals, moms viewing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, spouses handling troops of horny guys, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little ladies. 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 understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I discovered especially troubling was that her repellent dreams worked their method into my tame fantasies like an attacking infection, pushing my basic, relatively clean visions of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, typically with me as the featured performer. I stopped my month-to-month practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and began a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout the house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept 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 cosmetics, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We looked for clothes a lot, with Staci making the selections 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, throwing out every set of trousers I owned. I wore only short gowns at Staci's insistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. My boring life ended when I came to 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. She convinced me I was gorgeous to the extreme, specifically between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfy even when suffering prior to her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a fragrant douche and included 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 hiding the result from my partner was difficult. My very first cunnicure triggered 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 find 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 actually never threatened me with divorce. I could just picture what wishing I 'd never been born required. I seriously questioned he would physically hurt me, but the thought never left my mind. I believed he might force me to go through a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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