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Three months ago, I was your daily housewife and mom of 3-- 2 young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My hubby, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and most likely never ever 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.
The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is boring to the extreme. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. I freely confess I am a sex junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and unclean, filthy and horrible .
In fantasy, I desired everyone to know the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want to market that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.
I was like the junkie that understands where the dependency will lead, but does not want help. I feared my sexual dependency would practically destroy my marriage. I 'd lose my children and possibly wind up in prison. I could not help that. The dangers exceeded the consequences because the sex was that great. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. Eight months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her hubby is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common. In fact, I discovered her rather dull and one dimensional. She's likewise rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a chubby face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am working on my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language atrocious. In blended company, I laughed uneasily at her unrefined jokes, however the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.
I 'd never heard such shocking and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking kids, dads raping young children, females making love with animals, mothers enjoying dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, other halves taking on troops of horny guys, blacks on whites, old with young, canines 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 constantly about someone she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found especially troubling was that her disgusting dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an getting into virus, pressing my basic, relatively clean musings of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, often with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and started a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout the house. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head. 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 offer it a whirl. I nearly broke my back in the effort, but a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush deal with was no longer enough.
We didn't constantly sit for stories. The majority of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We looked for clothing a good deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I deferred to her and used what she chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, throwing out every set of pants I owned. I used only brief dresses at Staci's insistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll, my dull life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female kind. She persuaded me I was gorgeous to the severe, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfortable even when languishing before 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 began 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 fragrance. I liked her manicures, however hiding the arise from my other half was impossible. My very first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max warned me not to cheat. If I ever find 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 just nodded my understanding, however I didn't quite comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a woman. He had never threatened me with divorce. I might only imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born involved. Max is a huge male, a guy of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, however the thought never ever left my mind. I thought he may force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to begin me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.
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