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3 months earlier, I was your daily housewife and mother of three-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My spouse, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's workplace. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and most likely never would have had we not moved 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 housewife with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. I freely admit I am a sex junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and unclean, filthy and revolting . In dream, I desired 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 was like the junkie that understands where the addiction will lead, but doesn't want assistance. I feared my sexual dependency would virtually ruin my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and perhaps wind up in prison. I couldn't assist that. Because the sex was that great, the threats exceeded the effects. I like Staci for what she's done. 8 months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our first meeting. Her spouse is a cops detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common. In fact, I found her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a pudgy face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language godawful. In combined 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 stunning and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking boys, daddies raping young daughters, females making love with animals, mothers enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, better halves taking on soldiers of randy males, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little women. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were constantly about someone she understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I discovered particularly troubling was that her vile dreams worked their method into my tame fantasies like an invading infection, pressing my basic, reasonably tidy musings of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my month-to-month practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and began a everyday session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in the house. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned 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 cosmetics, giving me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We looked for clothes a great deal, 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 wore only short gowns at Staci's insistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. My dull life ended when I pertained to accept my function as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female form. I have constantly thought of myself as being too short, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Additionally, I considered the female genitalia as a nasty fracture next to a shit hole. She persuaded me I was beautiful to the extreme, especially 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 aromatic douche and involved 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 hiding the arise from my partner was impossible. My 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 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 never been born. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I might just imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born involved. I seriously questioned he would physically hurt me, however the idea never ever left my mind. I thought 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, oddly enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to start me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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