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Three months ago, I was your daily housewife and mom of three-- 2 young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My husband, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and most likely never ever would have had we stagnated across the street from Staci and Joe. I was so straight if I masturbated more than when a month, I felt guilty.
The life of a housewife with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony 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 unclean, dirty and disgusting .
In dream, I desired everyone to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't want to advertise that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.
I was like the junkie that knows where the addiction will lead, but does not desire help. The threats outweighed the effects since the sex was that great. I like Staci for what she's done. 8 months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our first conference. Her husband is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had nothing in common.
I 'd never ever heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking boys, dads raping young children, females making love with animals, mothers viewing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, wives taking on soldiers of horny men, 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 to Staci. I seemed like I had to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were always about somebody she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. I felt like she was just daydreaming out loud, and I thought she was a very sick female. What I found especially disturbing was that her disgusting dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking infection, pressing my basic, fairly tidy musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, often with me as the featured performer. I stopped my month-to-month 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, anywhere in your home. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea 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 give it a try. I practically broke my back in the attempt, however a basic self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush manage was no longer enough.
Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, offering me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We shopped for clothing a terrific offer, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet manager. I used only short dresses at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female type. I have always thought of myself as being too brief, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. In addition, I thought of the female genitalia as a nasty fracture beside a shit hole. She encouraged me I was beautiful to the severe, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfy even when languishing prior to her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began 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, but hiding 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 alerted 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 been born. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I might just imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born required. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, but the thought never left my mind. I thought he may force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Maybe, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a excellent make fun of the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that launched Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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