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3 months ago, I was your daily homemaker and mother of 3-- 2 boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman 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 once a month, I felt guilty.
The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is boring to the extreme. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. I easily confess I am a sex junkie, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and unclean, filthy and revolting .
In fantasy, I desired everybody to understand the 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 junkie that understands where the dependency will lead, but doesn't want assistance. I feared my sexual addiction would practically ruin my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and perhaps end up in prison. I could not help that. Due to the fact that the sex was that great, the threats surpassed the effects. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, learnt more about me, inside and out, then started her professional controls 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 dad would say. Eight months of patient prodding has actually settled for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first meeting. Her partner is a authorities investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common.
I 'd never heard such shocking and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking sons, dads raping young children, ladies having sex with animals, mothers seeing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, partners handling troops of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little women. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about somebody she knew or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I discovered especially disturbing was that her vile dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an invading virus, pressing my easy, relatively clean daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured performer. 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, anywhere in the house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head. 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 offer it a try. I almost broke my back in the attempt, but a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush handle 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, offering me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We looked for clothing a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I deferred to her and used what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, tossing out every set 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 concerned accept my role as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female form. She convinced me I was beautiful to the extreme, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfy even when suffering prior to her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina version 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 comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, however hiding the result from my hubby was difficult. My very first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max warned me not to cheat. If I ever discover 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 ever been born. He had never threatened me with divorce. I might just picture what wishing I 'd never been born entailed. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, however the thought never left my mind. I thought he might force me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.
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