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Three months back, I was your everyday housewife and mom of 3-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My hubby, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's workplace. Cheating on Max never ever 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 once a month, I felt guilty. The life of a housewife with all kids in school is tiring 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 consider, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and dirty, revolting and unclean . In fantasy, I wanted everyone to know the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want to advertise that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the addict that knows where the addiction will lead, but doesn't desire aid. I feared my sexual dependency would essentially destroy my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and potentially end up in prison. I couldn't help that. The dangers outweighed the consequences because the sex was that excellent. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then started her expert controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a long and challenging one for me, but absolutely nothing beneficial comes easy as my daddy would state. 8 months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first meeting. Her other half is a police detective, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in typical.

I 'd never heard such stunning and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking sons, fathers raping young children, females having sex with animals, moms watching dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, partners handling 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 bros, so I was stuck to Staci. I seemed like I needed to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were constantly about someone she understood or became aware of, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. I seemed like she was merely daydreaming aloud, and I thought she was a really sick female. What I found particularly troubling was that her vile fantasies worked their way into my tame dreams like an getting into virus, pressing my basic, relatively clean musings of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck 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 the house. After six months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head.

We didn't always sit for stories. The majority 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 bought clothes a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet supervisor. I accepted her and used what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, throwing out every set of trousers I owned. I used just brief dresses at Staci's persistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. My boring 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 perfect female type. I have always considered myself as being too brief, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I thought of the female genitalia as a nasty fracture next to a shit hole. She persuaded me I was stunning to the severe, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfortable 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 aromatic douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, but concealing the result from my husband was impossible. My first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max alerted 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 actually never been born. That was it. I merely nodded my understanding, however I didn't rather 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 ever threatened me with divorce. I might just imagine what wishing I 'd never been born entailed. Max is a huge guy, a man of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, however the idea never left my mind. I thought he might force me to undergo 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 introduced Staci's crusade to begin me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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