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3 months ago, I was your everyday housewife and mom of 3-- 2 kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My other half, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and probably never ever would have had we stagnated 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 homemaker with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. I freely admit I am a sex junkie, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and dirty, disgusting and filthy .
In dream, I desired everyone to understand the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't wish to advertise that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.
I was like the junkie that understands where the addiction will lead, however does not want help. I feared my sexual addiction would practically ruin my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and potentially end up in prison. I could not assist that. The threats outweighed the effects since the sex was that great. I love 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 meeting. Her other half is a cops detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common. I discovered 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 working on my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language godawful. In mixed company, I chuckled uncomfortably at her crude jokes, but the stories she informed 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, mother's fucking kids, dads raping young children, women having sex with animals, mothers viewing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, other halves handling troops of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little girls. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about somebody she knew or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I discovered especially disturbing was that her disgusting dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking infection, pushing my basic, reasonably tidy visions of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the included entertainer. I stopped my month-to-month 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, anywhere in the house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head. She told 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 provide it a try. I nearly broke my back in the attempt, but a easy self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush handle was no longer enough.
We didn't constantly sit for stories. Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, offering me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We bought clothes a lot, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I deferred to her and used what she chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, tossing out every pair of pants I owned. I wore only brief gowns at Staci's persistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll, my uninteresting life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female form. I have constantly thought of myself as being too short, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Moreover, I considered the female genitalia as a nasty fracture beside a shit hole. She encouraged me I was stunning to the severe, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfortable even when suffering before her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina version 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 fragrance. I liked her manicures, however concealing the arise from my hubby was difficult. My very first cunnicure prompted 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 discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence positive or catch you in the act, I'll make you want you had actually never been born. That was it. I merely nodded my understanding, but I didn't quite comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a lady. He had never threatened me with divorce. I might only imagine what wanting I 'd never been born entailed. Max is a big guy, a man of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, however the thought never left my mind. I believed he might require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Perhaps, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a excellent 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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