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3 months earlier, I was your daily housewife and mother of 3-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My partner, 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 not moved 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 easily confess I am a sex addict, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and dirty, revolting and unclean .
In dream, I wanted everybody to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't want to market that fact, but 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, but does not want aid. I feared my sexual dependency would virtually destroy my marriage. I 'd lose my children and potentially end up in prison. I couldn't assist that. Because the sex was that excellent, the threats exceeded the repercussions. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, learnt more about me, inside and out, then started her specialist manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a difficult and long one for me, however absolutely nothing worthwhile comes easy as my daddy would say. 8 months of patient prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first meeting. Her spouse is a police detective, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had nothing in common.
I 'd never ever heard such shocking and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking boys, dads raping young daughters, women having sex with animals, mothers seeing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, other halves taking on troops of randy guys, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little ladies. 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 felt like I had to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were always about somebody she knew or found out about, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. I seemed like she was merely daydreaming aloud, and I believed she was a extremely sick female. What I discovered especially troubling was that her repellent dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an attacking virus, pushing my basic, fairly tidy daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the featured performer. 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 your home. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head also. 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 provide it a try. I almost broke my back in the effort, however a easy self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush manage 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 went shopping for clothes a terrific offer, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet supervisor. I used only short gowns at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female form. I have always thought of myself as being too short, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I thought of the female genitalia as a nasty fracture next to a shit hole. She encouraged me I was lovely to the severe, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfy even when suffering before her with my legs wide 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, however hiding the result from my hubby 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 find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you want you had actually never ever been born. That was it. I just nodded my understanding, but I didn't quite comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do precisely. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a female. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could just picture what wanting I 'd never been born involved. Max is a big man, a guy of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, but the idea never left my mind. I believed he might require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Possibly, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He might fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a good make fun of the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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