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Three months earlier, I was your daily housewife and mother of three-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My husband, 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 once a month, I felt guilty. The life of a homemaker 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 whore, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and dirty, unclean and horrible . In fantasy, I desired everybody to understand the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want to promote that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the junkie that understands where the addiction will lead, however doesn't desire assistance. The dangers surpassed the consequences due to the fact that 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 began her specialist manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a hard and long one for me, but nothing beneficial comes easy as my daddy would say. 8 months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her partner is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had nothing in common.

I 'd never heard such stunning and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, fathers raping young children, females making love with animals, mothers seeing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, wives handling soldiers of randy guys, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck to Staci. I seemed like I had to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were always about somebody she knew or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. I felt like she was simply thinking aloud, and I believed she was a extremely ill lady. What I found particularly disturbing was that her disgusting dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an attacking virus, pressing my easy, fairly clean musings of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, typically with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and began a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head also. 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 give it a whirl. I practically broke my back in the attempt, but a basic self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush handle was no longer enough.

Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothes a excellent deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I used only short dresses at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female form. She encouraged me I was gorgeous to the extreme, specifically between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfy even when languishing prior to her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a fragrant douche and included 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 result from my spouse was impossible. My 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 discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you wish you had actually never been born. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could only imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born required. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, but the thought never ever left my mind. I believed he may require 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, strangely enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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