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Three months ago, I was your daily housewife and mom of three-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My partner, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's workplace. Cheating on Max never ever 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 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 admit I am a sex addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and unclean, unclean and disgusting . In fantasy, I wanted everyone to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't wish to market that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I resembled the addict that understands where the addiction will lead, but doesn't want assistance. I feared my sexual dependency would practically damage my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and potentially end up in prison. I could not help that. The risks surpassed the consequences due to the fact that the sex was that excellent. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. Eight months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first meeting. Her hubby is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common.

I 'd never ever heard such stunning and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking boys, dads raping young children, ladies making love with animals, mothers enjoying dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, wives taking on soldiers of horny males, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were constantly about someone she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found especially troubling was that her disgusting dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking infection, pressing my easy, reasonably tidy visions of romantic love out changing 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 began a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your home. After six months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head.

Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, offering me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We went shopping for clothing a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet supervisor. I wore only brief gowns at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female form. I have actually always thought of myself as being too brief, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I believed of the female genitalia as a nasty fracture next to a shit hole. She convinced me I was gorgeous to the severe, particularly in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfortable even when suffering before her with my legs wide 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 included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, but concealing the result from my other half was impossible. My first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max cautioned 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 actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I might only picture what wanting I 'd never been born involved. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, but the idea never left my mind. I believed he may force me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that launched Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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