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Three months earlier, I was your daily housewife and mom of three-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. My husband, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never 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 as soon as a month, I felt guilty. The life of a housewife with all kids in school is boring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. I freely confess I am a sex junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and unclean, revolting and dirty . In dream, I wanted everyone to know the new me. In reality, I didn't want to market 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 addiction will lead, but does not want help. The threats outweighed the consequences since the sex was that excellent. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. 8 months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her other half is a police detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common. In fact, I found her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a tubby face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am working on my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language godawful. In combined company, I chuckled uneasily at her crude jokes, but the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never ever heard such shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking boys, fathers raping young children, ladies having sex with animals, moms enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, spouses handling soldiers of randy guys, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little girls. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck with Staci. I seemed like I needed to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were always about somebody she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I felt like she was merely daydreaming aloud, and I believed she was a really ill lady. What I found particularly disturbing was that her disgusting fantasies worked their method into my tame fantasies like an getting into virus, pressing my simple, fairly clean daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, typically with me as the included performer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and began a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in the house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head as well. 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 whirl. I nearly broke my back in the effort, however a basic self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush handle was no longer enough.

Many of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, offering me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We shopped for clothes a terrific deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet manager. I wore only short dresses at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female kind. She encouraged me I was stunning to the severe, particularly in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfortable even when languishing before her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a aromatic 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, however hiding 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 marriage, Max warned me not to cheat. If I ever discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you want you had never been born. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I might just envision what wanting I 'd never ever been born entailed. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, however the idea never ever left my mind. I believed he might force me to undergo 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 launched Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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