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Three months earlier, I was your daily housewife and mom of 3-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My other half, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and most likely 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 fantasy, I wanted everyone to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't wish to market that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I resembled the junkie that understands where the dependency will lead, however doesn't desire aid. I feared my sexual dependency would essentially destroy my marriage. I 'd lose my children and perhaps wind up in prison. I could not help that. Due to the fact that the sex was that excellent, the threats outweighed the effects. I like Staci for what she's done. Eight months of client prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our first meeting. Her spouse is a authorities detective, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common.

I 'd never heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking sons, daddies raping young children, ladies having sex with animals, mothers watching dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, partners handling soldiers of randy men, 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 siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about someone she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I discovered especially troubling was that her vile fantasies worked their method into my tame fantasies like an attacking virus, pushing my easy, fairly tidy musings of romantic love out replacing 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 started a everyday session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head. 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 whirl. I practically 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. 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 constantly. We purchased clothing a lot, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet supervisor. I accepted her and used what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, throwing out every pair of trousers I owned. I used just short gowns at Staci's insistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. My uninteresting life ended when I concerned accept my role as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female form. I have actually constantly thought about myself as being too brief, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I believed of the female genitalia as a nasty fracture next to a shit hole. She encouraged me I was gorgeous to the extreme, particularly in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfortable even when suffering before 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 started with a aromatic douche and included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, but hiding the result from my partner was impossible. My very first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max cautioned 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 want you had never been born. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could only envision what wishing I 'd never ever been born entailed. I seriously questioned he would physically hurt me, however the thought never left my mind. I thought 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 released Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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