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Three months ago, I was your everyday homemaker and mother of 3-- 2 young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. My other half, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and probably never would have had we not moved across the street from Staci and Joe. I was so straight if I masturbated more than when a month, I felt guilty.
Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off.
In dream, I desired everyone to know the new me. In reality, I didn't wish to market that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.
I resembled the addict that understands where the dependency will lead, however doesn't desire help. I feared my sexual addiction would essentially ruin my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and perhaps wind up in prison. I could not help that. The risks exceeded the consequences since the sex was that good. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. Eight months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her husband is a cops detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had 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 dropped out of high school, whereas I am working on my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language godawful. In blended company, I laughed uncomfortably at her unrefined jokes, however the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.
I 'd never heard such shocking and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, daddies raping young daughters, females making love with animals, moms watching dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, wives taking on troops of randy males, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about someone she knew or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found especially troubling was that her repellent dreams worked their method into my tame dreams like an attacking virus, pushing my easy, fairly clean musings of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, frequently with me as the included performer. I stopped my regular monthly 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 your house. After six months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head.
Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We went shopping for clothes a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe manager. I wore only short gowns at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female form. She convinced me I was stunning to the severe, particularly in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfortable even when suffering before her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a scented douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, but hiding the result from my other half 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 cautioned me not to cheat. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had actually never been born. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I might only envision what wishing I 'd never been born required. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, but the idea never ever left my mind. I thought he might force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Maybe, 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, but it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that launched Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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