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Three months ago, I was your everyday housewife and mom of 3-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My partner, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer 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 when 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 freely admit I am a sex junkie, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and dirty, disgusting and unclean . In fantasy, I desired everybody to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't wish to advertise 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, however does not want assistance. I feared my sexual addiction would practically destroy my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and perhaps end up in prison. I could not assist that. Because the sex was that good, the threats surpassed the effects. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, got to know me, inside and out, then started her professional adjustments that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a tough and long one for me, but absolutely nothing beneficial comes easy as my dad would state. Eight months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our first conference. Her spouse is a authorities detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in typical.

I 'd never heard such stunning and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking boys, daddies raping young children, women making love with animals, moms viewing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, spouses taking on soldiers of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, canines 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. I felt like I had to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were constantly about somebody she knew or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I felt like she was merely fantasizing aloud, and I believed she was a very sick woman. What I discovered particularly disturbing was that her disgusting fantasies worked their way into my tame fantasies like an attacking virus, pushing my simple, reasonably clean visions of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and began a everyday session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout the house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head too. 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 try. I almost broke my back in the effort, but a basic self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush manage was no longer enough.

Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, giving me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We went shopping for clothing a fantastic offer, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe manager. I wore only brief dresses at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female kind. I have constantly thought of myself as being too brief, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I thought of the female genitalia as a nasty crack next to a shit hole. She encouraged me I was stunning to the severe, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfortable even when languishing before 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 began with a aromatic 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, however concealing the arise from my husband was difficult. My first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max alerted 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 want you had never been born. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could only picture what wishing I 'd never ever been born required. I seriously questioned he would physically damage me, however the idea never left my mind. I thought he might force me to go through 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 excellent make fun of the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that released Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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