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Three months ago, I was your everyday housewife and mom of 3-- 2 boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My hubby, 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 once a month, I felt guilty.
The life of a housewife 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, revolting and dirty .
In dream, I wanted everyone to understand the 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 was like the addict that understands where the dependency will lead, however doesn't want help. I feared my sexual addiction would essentially damage my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and potentially end up in prison. I could not help that. The risks outweighed the repercussions since the sex was that good. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then started her specialist manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a long and difficult one for me, but nothing beneficial comes easy as my daddy would state. Eight months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her husband is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common.
I 'd never heard such stunning and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking children, dads raping young daughters, ladies making love with animals, mothers enjoying dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, other halves taking on soldiers of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little women. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. I felt like I needed 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 found out about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I seemed like she was just daydreaming aloud, and I believed she was a extremely sick female. What I found especially disturbing was that her repellent dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking virus, pressing my basic, relatively tidy daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and started a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout the house. After six months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept 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 offer it a try. I practically broke my back in the attempt, but a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush handle was no longer enough.
Many of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, offering me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothing a fantastic deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet supervisor. I used just short dresses at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female type. I have actually constantly thought of myself as being too brief, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Furthermore, I thought of the female genitalia as a nasty fracture next to a shit hole. She persuaded me I was lovely to the severe, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfy even when languishing before 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 aromatic douche and included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, however concealing the result from my partner was impossible. My very first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max warned me not to cheat. If I ever discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you want you had actually never ever been born. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could just imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born required. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, but the idea never left my mind. I believed he might force me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to begin me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.
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