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Three months ago, I was your daily housewife and mother of 3-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My spouse, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's workplace. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and most likely 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 dullness and made me what I am today. I freely admit I am a sex addict, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and dirty, disgusting and filthy . In fantasy, I wanted everyone to know the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't wish to market 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, however doesn't desire assistance. The threats outweighed the consequences since the sex was that excellent. I love Staci for what she's done. Eight months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first meeting. Her husband is a authorities detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in typical.

I 'd never heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking boys, fathers raping young children, women making love with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, spouses handling soldiers of horny males, blacks on whites, old with young, canines 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. Her stories were always about somebody she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I discovered especially troubling was that her vile dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking virus, pushing my basic, reasonably tidy daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the included performer. 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, anywhere in your home. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head. She informed 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 attempt, however a basic self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush manage was no longer enough.

Many of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, giving me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We shopped for clothing a terrific offer, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet manager. I used just brief gowns at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female form. I have actually constantly thought about myself as being too short, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I thought of the female genitalia as a nasty crack next to a shit hole. She convinced me I was lovely to the extreme, specifically between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfy even when suffering before her with my legs large 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 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, however concealing the result from my partner 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. I remember being incensed at the simple suggestion. This time, I listened attentively as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the type of guy that resides in worry of his spouse unfaithful on him. I will not have you followed. I will not question your activities or the method you dress. I will not snoop or ask concerns. You can go and come as you please. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. I'll make you want you had actually never ever been born if I ever get evidence favorable or capture you in the act. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could only imagine what wanting I 'd never ever been born required. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, however the thought never ever left my mind. I believed he might require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Perhaps, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a excellent make fun of the possibilities, however 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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