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3 months back, I was your everyday housewife and mom of three-- 2 kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My husband, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's workplace. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and probably never would have had we stagnated 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 housewife with all kids in school is boring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. I freely admit I am a sex addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and filthy, disgusting and dirty .
In fantasy, I wanted everyone to know the new me. In reality, I didn't wish to promote 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 dependency will lead, but doesn't want assistance. I feared my sexual dependency would essentially ruin my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and perhaps end up in prison. I couldn't help that. The dangers surpassed the effects because the sex was that great. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, got to know me, inside and out, then started her professional controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a long and tough one for me, but absolutely nothing rewarding comes easy as my dad would state. Eight months of patient prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first meeting. Her husband is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common.
I 'd never heard such stunning and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking boys, dads raping young daughters, ladies making love with animals, moms watching dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, other halves taking on soldiers of horny guys, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little girls. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck with Staci. I felt 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 understood or became aware of, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I felt like she was merely thinking out loud, and I believed she was a really ill female. What I found especially disturbing was that her disgusting fantasies worked their method into my tame dreams like an attacking virus, pressing my simple, relatively tidy daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, often 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, anywhere in your home. After six months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.
We didn't always sit for stories. Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We purchased clothing a lot, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet supervisor. I accepted her and wore what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, tossing out every pair of pants I owned. I wore only brief dresses at Staci's persistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my function 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 type. She persuaded me I was lovely to the extreme, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfy even when languishing before her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a scented douche and included 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 concealing the result from my spouse was impossible. My very first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max warned me not to cheat. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you want you had never ever 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 precisely. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a woman. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I might just picture what wishing I 'd never been born required. Max is a big male, a male of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, but the idea never left my mind. I believed he may require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, however 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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