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Three months ago, I was your everyday homemaker and mom of three-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My spouse, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and probably 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 dullness and made me what I am today. I easily confess I am a sex addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and unclean, horrible and unclean .
In fantasy, 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 resembled the junkie that understands where the dependency will lead, however does not desire help. I feared my sexual dependency would essentially destroy my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and potentially end up in prison. I could not help that. The threats outweighed the consequences due to the fact that the sex was that excellent. I like Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, got to know me, inside and out, then started her expert adjustments that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a difficult and long one for me, but absolutely nothing beneficial comes easy as my daddy would say. Eight months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first meeting. Her hubby is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in typical.
I 'd never heard such stunning and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking boys, fathers raping young daughters, females making love with animals, mothers enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, other halves taking on troops of horny men, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little women. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. I seemed like I needed to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were constantly about someone she knew or found out about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. I seemed like she was merely thinking out loud, and I believed she was a extremely ill lady. What I found especially troubling was that her vile dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking virus, pressing my basic, relatively tidy daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and began a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout the house. After six months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.
We didn't always sit for stories. The majority of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, giving me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We looked for clothing a good deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I deferred to her and wore what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, tossing out every pair of pants I owned. I wore just short dresses at Staci's insistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. My dull life ended when I pertained to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female kind. I have actually constantly considered 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 persuaded me I was gorgeous to the severe, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfortable even when languishing prior to her with my legs broad 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 included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, however concealing the arise from my partner was difficult. My very first cunnicure prompted 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 find 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 never been born. That was it. I simply nodded my understanding, however 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 ever threatened me with divorce. I could only envision what wishing I 'd never been born required. Max is a huge male, a male of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, but the idea never ever left my mind. I thought he might require 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, strangely enough, that launched Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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