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Three months ago, I was your daily housewife and mom of 3-- 2 boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My spouse, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never ever 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 when a month, I felt guilty. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. Sex is all I believe about, and no perversion turns me off. In dream, I wanted everyone to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't want to advertise that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the junkie that understands where the addiction will lead, however does not want help. I feared my sexual addiction would virtually destroy my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and potentially wind up in prison. I could not assist that. Since the sex was that great, the risks exceeded the consequences. I like Staci for what she's done. Eight months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first meeting. Her hubby is a authorities investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common.

I 'd never heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking boys, fathers raping young children, women making love with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, spouses taking on 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 brothers, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were constantly about someone she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I discovered especially disturbing was that her vile dreams worked their method into my tame fantasies like an invading virus, pushing my easy, fairly tidy daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, often with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and began a everyday session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in your house. After six months of Staci's stories, I found out 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 provide it a try. I nearly broke my back in the attempt, but a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush manage was no longer enough.

Many of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, providing me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We shopped for clothing a fantastic offer, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe manager. I wore just brief dresses at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female kind. I have constantly thought about myself as being too short, too skinny, 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 beautiful to the extreme, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfy even when languishing before her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a fragrant douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, but concealing the result from my hubby was difficult. My first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max alerted me not to cheat. If I ever discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence favorable or capture you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never been born. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I might just envision what wanting I 'd never been born entailed. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, however the thought never left my mind. I believed he may force me to undergo a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at 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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