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Three months earlier, I was your daily homemaker and mother of three-- 2 boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. My spouse, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and probably never 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. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. In dream, I wanted everybody to know the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't wish to advertise that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I resembled the junkie that knows where the addiction will lead, however doesn't want aid. I feared my sexual addiction would practically destroy my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and potentially wind up in prison. I couldn't assist that. Because the sex was that good, the threats surpassed the consequences. I like Staci for what she's done. 8 months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her partner is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had nothing in typical.

I 'd never heard such stunning and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking kids, fathers raping young daughters, women making love with animals, moms watching dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, other halves handling troops of randy males, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little women. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck to Staci. I seemed 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 found out about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. I felt like she was merely thinking aloud, and I thought she was a really sick lady. What I found particularly troubling was that her vile fantasies worked their method into my tame fantasies like an getting into infection, pushing my simple, relatively tidy daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the featured performer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and started a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in your home. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept 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 give it a try. I practically broke my back in the effort, but a easy self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush deal with 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 cosmetics, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We purchased clothes a lot, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I accepted her and wore what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, tossing out every set of pants I owned. I wore just short gowns at Staci's persistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll, my uninteresting life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female type. She persuaded me I was beautiful to the extreme, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfy even when languishing prior to her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a scented 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 hiding the arise from my other half was impossible. My first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max cautioned me not to cheat. If I ever find 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 actually never been born. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I could only envision what wanting I 'd never been born required. I seriously questioned he would physically damage me, but the thought never ever left my mind. I thought he might force me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Possibly, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that launched Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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