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3 months ago, I was your daily housewife and mother of three-- 2 kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My other half, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and probably never ever 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 easily confess I am a sex addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and unclean, horrible and dirty . In dream, I desired everybody to know the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't wish 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 desire aid. I feared my sexual dependency would essentially ruin my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and possibly wind up in prison. I could not assist that. Because the sex was that excellent, the risks exceeded the repercussions. I like Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, got to know me, inside and out, then began her expert controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a long and tough one for me, but absolutely nothing worthwhile comes easy as my father would state. Eight months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first meeting. Her husband is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had nothing in typical.

I 'd never ever heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, daddies raping young children, females making love with animals, mothers watching dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, spouses handling soldiers of randy guys, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little women. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, so I was stuck to Staci. I felt like I had to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were constantly about somebody she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I seemed like she was just daydreaming out loud, and I thought she was a very sick female. What I found particularly troubling was that her vile fantasies worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking virus, pressing my simple, fairly tidy daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, typically with me as the included 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 6 months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept 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 offer it a try. I nearly broke my back in the effort, however a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush manage was no longer enough.

Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, giving me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We went shopping for clothing a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I used just short gowns at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female kind. I have actually always thought about myself as being too brief, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I thought of the female genitalia as a nasty crack next to a shit hole. She encouraged me I was gorgeous to the extreme, specifically in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfy even when languishing 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 scented douche and involved 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 arise from my husband was impossible. 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 discover 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 been born. That was it. I simply nodded my understanding, however I didn't quite understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a lady. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I might just imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born involved. Max is a big man, a male of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, but the idea never left my mind. I thought he may force me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Perhaps, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He might fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that launched Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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