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3 months back, I was your everyday homemaker and mom of three-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My husband, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never 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 as soon as a month, I felt guilty.
Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off.
In fantasy, I desired everybody to understand the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't wish to promote that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.
I was like the addict that understands where the dependency will lead, but doesn't desire help. I feared my sexual dependency would essentially destroy my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and potentially wind up in prison. I couldn't help that. Since the sex was that great, the threats outweighed the repercussions. I like Staci for what she's done. 8 months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her partner is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common.
I 'd never heard such stunning and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking children, daddies raping young daughters, females making love with animals, moms enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, spouses handling soldiers of horny guys, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little women. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck to Staci. I felt 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 understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. I seemed like she was simply daydreaming aloud, and I thought she was a really ill lady. What I discovered particularly troubling was that her vile dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an getting into virus, pressing my basic, fairly clean musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, often with me as the included entertainer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and started 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 learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head too. She informed 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 offer it a whirl. I practically broke my back in the effort, but a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush handle was no longer enough.
Many of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We shopped for clothes a great offer, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I used just brief dresses at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female type. She encouraged me I was lovely to the severe, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfy even when suffering before her with my legs large 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 comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, however concealing the arise from my other half was impossible. My very first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max cautioned me not to cheat. If I ever find 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 ever been born. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could just picture what wishing I 'd never been born entailed. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, however 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 great laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that launched Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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