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Three months back, I was your daily homemaker and mother of three-- 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.
Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off.
In dream, I desired 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 knows where the dependency will lead, but doesn't want aid. I feared my sexual dependency would virtually damage my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and possibly wind up in prison. I couldn't help that. Due to the fact that the sex was that good, the risks exceeded the effects. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. Eight months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first meeting. Her hubby is a authorities investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had nothing in common.
I 'd never ever heard such stunning and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking children, daddies raping young children, ladies making love with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, other halves taking on troops of horny males, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little girls. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about someone she understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I discovered particularly disturbing was that her vile dreams worked their method into my tame dreams like an invading virus, pushing my simple, fairly tidy musings of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, typically with me as the included performer. I stopped my regular 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, anywhere in your home. After six 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 attempt, however a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush handle was no longer enough.
We didn't always sit for stories. Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, giving me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We purchased clothing a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I deferred to her and used what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, throwing out every pair of pants I owned. I used only short gowns at Staci's insistence. I ended up being 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 perfect female type. I have constantly thought about myself as being too short, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Additionally, I thought about the female genitalia as a nasty crack beside a shit hole. She persuaded me I was gorgeous to the severe, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfy even when languishing 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 fragrant douche and included 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 hiding the result from my hubby was impossible. My very first cunnicure triggered 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 proof favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had actually never been born. That was it. I merely nodded my understanding, but I didn't quite comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a lady. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I could only imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born entailed. Max is a big guy, a guy of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically hurt me, however the thought never ever left my mind. I believed he might force me to go through a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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