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3 months back, I was your everyday housewife and mom of 3-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My spouse, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and most likely 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 tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. I freely confess I am a sex addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and dirty, disgusting and dirty . In fantasy, I wanted everybody to know the new me. In reality, I didn't want to market that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the addict that understands where the dependency will lead, however does not want assistance. The dangers outweighed the effects since the sex was that great. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then started her professional adjustments that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a long and challenging one for me, however absolutely nothing rewarding comes easy as my dad would say. Eight months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first meeting. Her partner is a cops detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common. I found her rather dull and one dimensional. She's likewise rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a tubby face. She left of high school, whereas I am working on my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language godawful. In blended business, I chuckled uneasily at her crude jokes, however the stories she informed me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never ever heard such stunning and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, fathers raping young daughters, females making love with animals, moms watching dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, spouses taking on soldiers of horny guys, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little girls. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about somebody she understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I discovered particularly disturbing was that her repellent dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an attacking virus, pressing my simple, fairly tidy musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck 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, throughout your house. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.

We didn't constantly sit for stories. The majority of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We looked for clothing a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I deferred to her and wore what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, throwing out every set of pants I owned. I used only brief dresses at Staci's insistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. My boring life ended when I came to accept my function as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female type. I have always thought about myself as being too brief, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. In addition, I thought about the female genitalia as a nasty crack beside a shit hole. She convinced me I was lovely to the extreme, specifically in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfortable even when languishing prior to her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began with a scented douche and included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, but concealing the result from my partner was impossible. My first cunnicure triggered 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 favorable or capture you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never been born. That was it. I just nodded my understanding, but I didn't quite comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do precisely. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a woman. He had never threatened me with divorce. I might just envision what wishing I 'd never been born involved. Max is a big man, a guy of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically damage me, but the thought never ever left my mind. I believed he may require me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, however 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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