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Three months ago, I was your daily homemaker and mom of three-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl 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 when a month, I felt guilty. The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is boring to the extreme. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. I freely confess I am a sex addict, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and dirty, disgusting and filthy . In dream, I desired everyone to know the new me. In reality, I didn't want 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 dependency will lead, but does not want help. I feared my sexual addiction would essentially destroy my marital relationship. 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 great, the dangers outweighed the effects. I like Staci for what she's done. 8 months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our first meeting. Her other half is a authorities investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common. I discovered her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a tubby face. She left of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language atrocious. In mixed business, I chuckled uneasily at her unrefined jokes, but the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never ever heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking sons, fathers raping young children, ladies having sex with animals, mothers watching dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, other halves taking on troops of randy males, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs 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 with Staci. Her stories were constantly about somebody she knew or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I found especially troubling was that her repellent dreams worked their method into my tame dreams like an getting into infection, pushing my easy, fairly tidy musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my 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, throughout your home. After six months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea 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 provide it a try. I almost broke my back in the attempt, however a easy self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter'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 makeup, offering me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothing a lot, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I deferred to her and wore what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, throwing out every pair of trousers I owned. I wore only short gowns at Staci's persistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. My uninteresting life ended when I concerned accept my function as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female form. She persuaded me I was lovely to the extreme, specifically between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfy even when languishing prior to her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began with a aromatic douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, but hiding the arise from my partner 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 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 ever been born. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could only envision what wanting I 'd never been born involved. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, but the idea never 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, oddly enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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