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Three months ago, I was your daily homemaker and mom of 3-- 2 young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My husband, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney 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 as soon as a month, I felt guilty.
Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. Sex is all I believe about, and no perversion turns me off.
In dream, I desired everyone to know the new me. In reality, I didn't wish to promote that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.
I resembled the addict that knows where the dependency will lead, but does not desire aid. I feared my sexual addiction would essentially damage my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and perhaps wind up in prison. I couldn't help that. Due to the fact that the sex was that good, the dangers outweighed the repercussions. I love Staci for what she's done. Eight months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first meeting. Her other half is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common. I found her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a pudgy 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 atrocious. In combined business, I chuckled uncomfortably at her crude jokes, but the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.
I 'd never heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking boys, dads raping young children, women having sex with animals, moms watching dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, wives taking on soldiers of randy guys, 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 brothers, so I was stuck to Staci. I felt like I had to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were constantly about somebody she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I seemed like she was simply daydreaming aloud, and I believed she was a very sick lady. What I found particularly disturbing was that her disgusting dreams worked their method into my tame dreams like an invading virus, pressing my easy, relatively tidy daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the included performer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and began a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your home. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head.
Many of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We shopped for clothes a great offer, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe manager. I used just brief gowns at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female type. She persuaded me I was gorgeous to the severe, specifically between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfy even when suffering prior to her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began with a fragrant douche and included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, however concealing the arise from my spouse 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 positive or catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never ever been born. That was it. I simply nodded my understanding, but I didn't quite understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a lady. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could only imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born required. Max is a huge male, a male of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, but the idea never ever left my mind. I believed he may require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Perhaps, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He might fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that launched Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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