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3 months earlier, I was your everyday housewife and mother of three-- 2 boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. My other half, 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 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 boredom and made me what I am today. Sex is all I believe about, and no perversion turns me off. In dream, I wanted everybody to know the 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 knows where the dependency will lead, however doesn't desire help. The dangers surpassed the effects since the sex was that excellent. I like Staci for what she's done. 8 months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our first meeting. Her partner is a police detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common.

I 'd never heard such stunning and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking children, daddies raping young children, females having sex with animals, mothers viewing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, better halves taking on troops of horny men, blacks on whites, old with young, canines on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck with Staci. I felt like I needed to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were always about someone she knew or became aware of, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. I felt like she was simply daydreaming aloud, and I believed she was a really sick female. What I found especially troubling was that her repellent fantasies worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking infection, pushing my simple, fairly tidy visions of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and started a everyday session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your home. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head. She told 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 whirl. I practically broke my back in the attempt, but a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush handle was no longer enough.

We didn't constantly 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 bought clothing a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe manager. I deferred to her and used what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, tossing out every set of trousers I owned. I wore just short dresses at Staci's insistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. My dull life ended when I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female kind. 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 convinced me I was gorgeous to the extreme, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfortable even when suffering prior to her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a aromatic douche and included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, however hiding the result from my husband was difficult. My first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max cautioned me not to cheat. If I ever discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you wish you had actually never been born. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I might just picture what wishing I 'd never been born entailed. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, but the thought never left my mind. I thought he may force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, but 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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