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Three months back, I was your daily housewife and mother of three-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My partner, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and most likely never ever would have had we stagnated across the street from Staci and Joe. I was so straight if I masturbated more than once a month, I felt guilty. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. In dream, I desired everyone to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't wish 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 knows where the addiction will lead, however doesn't desire aid. I feared my sexual addiction would essentially 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 threats outweighed the effects. 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 challenging and long one for me, but nothing beneficial comes easy as my dad would state. Eight months of client prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her partner is a cops 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 chubby face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language godawful. In blended company, I chuckled uneasily at her unrefined jokes, however the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never heard such stunning and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, daddies raping young children, women making love with animals, moms enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, spouses taking on soldiers of randy males, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little women. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about someone she knew or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I discovered particularly disturbing was that her disgusting dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an invading infection, pressing my simple, reasonably tidy musings of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured performer. I stopped my 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, anywhere in the house. After six months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head as well. 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 basic self-fuck with cucumbers or my child'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 makeup, offering me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We shopped for clothes a lot, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I accepted her and used what she chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, tossing out every pair of pants I owned. I used only brief dresses at Staci's insistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my function 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. She encouraged me I was gorgeous to the severe, specifically in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfy even when suffering prior to her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a fragrant 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 hubby 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 discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence favorable or capture you in the act, I'll make you want you had never ever been born. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I could just imagine what wanting I 'd never ever been born entailed. I seriously questioned he would physically damage me, but the thought never ever left my mind. I thought he may force me to go through a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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