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3 months ago, I was your everyday housewife and mother of 3-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My other half, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and probably never would have had we stagnated across the street from Staci and Joe. I was so straight if I masturbated more than as soon as a month, I felt guilty.
The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is boring to the extreme. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. I freely confess I am a sex junkie, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and filthy, horrible and filthy .
In fantasy, I wanted everyone 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 junkie that understands where the dependency will lead, however does not want assistance. The risks outweighed the repercussions because the sex was that excellent. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, learnt more about me, inside and out, then started her professional manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a long and challenging one for me, but absolutely nothing worthwhile comes easy as my father would say. 8 months of client prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our 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 discovered her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a chubby face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language godawful. In combined company, I chuckled uneasily at her unrefined jokes, but the stories she informed me when we were alone left me speechless.
I 'd never ever heard such shocking and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking boys, daddies raping young children, women having sex with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, other halves handling soldiers of randy males, 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 siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about somebody she knew or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found particularly disturbing was that her disgusting fantasies worked their method into my tame fantasies like an invading virus, pressing my easy, relatively tidy daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and started 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. She informed 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 give it a try. I almost broke my back in the attempt, but a easy self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush handle was no longer enough.
We didn't always 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, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We purchased clothing a good deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet supervisor. I accepted her and used what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, throwing out every pair of pants I owned. I wore just short gowns at Staci's persistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll, my boring life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female kind. I have actually always considered myself as being too short, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. In addition, I thought about the female genitalia as a nasty fracture next to a shit hole. She convinced me I was beautiful to the severe, specifically in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfortable even when languishing prior to her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina version 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, but hiding the result from my partner was difficult. My 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 proof positive or catch you in the act, I'll make you want you had actually never ever been born. That was it. I merely nodded my understanding, however I didn't rather understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do precisely. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a female. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I might only picture what wishing I 'd never been born entailed. Max is a big man, a man of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically damage me, however the idea never left my mind. I thought he may force me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Possibly, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a great make fun of the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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