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Three months earlier, I was your daily homemaker and mom of three-- 2 boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl 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 most likely 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 addict, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and unclean, filthy and horrible .
In dream, I wanted everybody to know the new me. In reality, I didn't wish 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 knows where the dependency will lead, however does not desire assistance. The risks exceeded the repercussions since the sex was that excellent. I like Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then began her professional controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a tough and long one for me, however absolutely nothing beneficial comes easy as my dad would state. Eight months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first meeting. Her other half is a cops detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in typical.
I 'd never ever heard such stunning and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking kids, daddies raping young children, females having sex with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, partners handling soldiers of horny 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 knew or became aware of, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I felt like she was simply thinking out loud, and I believed she was a very sick lady. What I discovered particularly disturbing was that her disgusting fantasies worked their way into my tame dreams like an invading infection, pushing my simple, fairly tidy daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, often 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 your house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head also. 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 offer it a try. I nearly broke my back in the attempt, but a easy self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush deal with was no longer enough.
We didn't constantly sit for stories. Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We looked for clothes a lot, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet supervisor. I deferred to her and used what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, throwing out every pair of trousers I owned. I used only short dresses at Staci's insistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. My boring life ended when I came to accept my function as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female form. She encouraged me I was lovely to the extreme, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfortable even when suffering before her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began with a fragrant douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, however concealing the arise 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 marriage, Max warned me not to cheat. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof favorable or catch 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 only envision what wanting I 'd never ever been born required. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, however the thought never left my mind. I believed he might require me to undergo a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that released Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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