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Three months ago, I was your everyday housewife and mother of three-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My hubby, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and most likely never ever 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.
The life of a housewife with all kids in school is boring to the extreme. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. I easily confess I am a sex junkie, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and dirty, filthy and disgusting .
In dream, I wanted everybody 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 addict that knows where the addiction will lead, but does not want aid. The dangers outweighed the repercussions because the sex was that excellent. I enjoy 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 been a long and challenging one for me, however nothing rewarding comes easy as my daddy would say. 8 months of patient prodding has actually settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first meeting. Her husband is a police 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 pudgy face. She left of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language atrocious. In combined company, I laughed uneasily at her unrefined jokes, but 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 children, fathers raping young daughters, ladies making love with animals, mothers enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, better halves taking on soldiers of horny men, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little girls. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with Staci. I seemed like I had to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were constantly about somebody she knew or found out about, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. I seemed like she was just fantasizing out loud, and I thought she was a extremely ill female. What I discovered especially disturbing was that her disgusting fantasies worked their way into my tame fantasies like an invading infection, pressing my simple, relatively tidy daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the included entertainer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and started a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in the house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head.
We didn't constantly sit for stories. The majority of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, offering me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothes a good deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe manager. I accepted her and wore what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, throwing out every pair of trousers I owned. I wore just brief dresses at Staci's persistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. My dull 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 perfect female form. I have always thought about myself as being too brief, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Moreover, I thought of the female genitalia as a nasty fracture next to a shit hole. She persuaded me I was gorgeous to the severe, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfy even when languishing prior to her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a aromatic douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, but hiding the arise from my hubby was difficult. My very first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max alerted me not to cheat. If I ever discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you want you had actually never been born. That was it. I simply nodded my understanding, but I didn't quite comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do precisely. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a lady. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could just envision what wishing I 'd never been born involved. Max is a huge man, a male of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, however the idea never ever left my mind. I believed he may force me to undergo a breast reduction 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 start me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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