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3 months ago, I was your daily housewife and mom of three-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. My hubby, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and probably never ever 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. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. Sex is all I believe about, and no perversion turns me off. In fantasy, I wanted everybody to know the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want to promote that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the addict that understands where the addiction will lead, however doesn't desire help. The dangers exceeded the repercussions due to the fact that the sex was that great. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, got to know me, inside and out, then started her expert adjustments that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a long and hard one for me, but nothing worthwhile comes easy as my father would say. Eight months of client prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our first conference. Her husband is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely 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 chubby face. She left of high school, whereas I am working on my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language atrocious. In mixed business, I laughed uncomfortably at her unrefined jokes, but the stories she informed me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never heard such stunning and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking kids, dads raping young children, women making love with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, spouses handling soldiers of randy males, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little women. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. I seemed like I had to indulge her. I needed 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 knowledge of. I seemed like she was just daydreaming out loud, and I believed she was a really sick woman. What I discovered particularly disturbing was that her vile fantasies worked their method into my tame fantasies like an attacking virus, pressing my simple, relatively tidy musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and began a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your home. After six months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head as well. 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 simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush deal with was no longer enough.

We didn't constantly sit for stories. The majority of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, providing me pedicures, rubbing 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 wore what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, tossing out every pair of pants I owned. I used just brief gowns at Staci's persistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll, my dull life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female kind. She convinced me I was gorgeous to the extreme, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfy even when suffering before 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 started with a scented douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, but concealing the arise 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 favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had actually never been born. That was it. I simply nodded my understanding, however I didn't quite understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a woman. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could only imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born entailed. Max is a huge man, a male of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, but the idea never left my mind. I believed he might require me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Possibly, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may 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 introduced Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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