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Three months back, I was your everyday housewife and mother of 3-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. My other half, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's workplace. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and probably never 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.
Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off.
In fantasy, I wanted everyone to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't want to advertise 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 addiction will lead, but doesn't desire assistance. I feared my sexual addiction would virtually ruin my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and possibly end up in prison. I couldn't help that. Since the sex was that excellent, the threats surpassed the repercussions. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, learnt more about 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, but absolutely nothing rewarding comes easy as my daddy would state. Eight months of patient prodding has actually settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her other half is a police 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 tubby face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language atrocious. In combined company, I chuckled uncomfortably at her unrefined jokes, however the stories she informed me when we were alone left me speechless.
I 'd never ever heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking sons, dads raping young children, ladies making love with animals, moms viewing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, wives handling troops of randy guys, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little girls. 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 somebody she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found particularly troubling was that her vile dreams worked their method into my tame fantasies like an attacking infection, pushing my easy, relatively clean daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently 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 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 always sit for stories. Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, providing me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We looked for clothes a lot, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet manager. I accepted her and used what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, tossing out every pair of trousers I owned. I used just short gowns at Staci's persistence. I became 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 perfect female form. She persuaded me I was gorgeous to the severe, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfortable even when languishing prior to her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area 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 fragrance. I liked her manicures, but hiding the result 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 alerted me not to cheat. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof favorable or capture you in the act, I'll make you want you had actually never been born. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I could only picture what wishing I 'd never been born involved. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, however the idea never left my mind. I believed he might force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that released Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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