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3 months ago, I was your everyday housewife and mom of 3-- 2 young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My other half, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and probably never ever would have had we not moved 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 housewife with all kids in school is boring 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 about, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and filthy, horrible and unclean . In fantasy, I wanted everybody to understand the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't wish 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 knows where the addiction will lead, however does not want assistance. The risks surpassed the repercussions due to the fact that the sex was that excellent. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, got to know me, inside and out, then began her specialist manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a difficult and long one for me, however absolutely nothing beneficial comes easy as my father would say. 8 months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first meeting. Her partner is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common. In fact, I found her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a tubby face. She left of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language godawful. In mixed company, I chuckled uncomfortably at her unrefined jokes, but the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking kids, dads raping young children, women having sex with animals, mothers enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, partners taking on troops of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little women. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck with Staci. I seemed like I had to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were always about somebody she understood or found out about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I seemed like she was merely thinking aloud, and I thought she was a very sick woman. What I discovered particularly disturbing was that her repellent dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an invading infection, pushing my simple, fairly tidy visions of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, often 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 six months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head too. 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 practically broke my back in the attempt, however a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush handle was no longer enough.

We didn't constantly sit for stories. The majority of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, 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 chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, throwing out every set of pants I owned. I wore just brief gowns at Staci's insistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. My dull 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 kind. I have constantly thought about myself as being too brief, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. In addition, I considered the female genitalia as a nasty crack beside a shit hole. She persuaded me I was beautiful to the extreme, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, but 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 began with a aromatic douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, however concealing the arise from my husband was impossible. My first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max alerted me not to cheat. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never ever been born. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I could just imagine what wanting I 'd never ever been born involved. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, however the idea never ever left my mind. I thought he may force me to undergo a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, but 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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