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3 months earlier, I was your daily homemaker and mother of three-- 2 kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My partner, 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 boring to the extreme. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. I freely admit I am a sex junkie, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and unclean, filthy and revolting . In fantasy, I wanted everybody 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 addict that understands where the addiction will lead, however does not want assistance. I feared my sexual dependency would virtually destroy my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and perhaps wind up in prison. I could not help that. The threats exceeded the repercussions since the sex was that good. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then began her specialist manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a long and tough one for me, but absolutely nothing beneficial comes easy as my daddy would state. Eight months of patient prodding has actually settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her husband is a police detective, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common.

I 'd never heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, daddies raping young children, ladies making love with animals, mothers watching dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, spouses handling troops of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about someone she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I discovered particularly troubling was that her vile dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an getting into infection, pushing my basic, relatively tidy musings of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, often with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and began a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.

Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We went shopping for clothing a excellent deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet supervisor. I wore only 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 always considered myself as being too brief, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I believed of the female genitalia as a nasty crack next to a shit hole. She encouraged me I was stunning to the extreme, specifically between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfortable even when languishing prior to her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area version 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 extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, however hiding the result from my hubby was difficult. My first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max warned me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the mere suggestion. This time, I listened diligently as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the kind of male 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 questions. You can come and go as you please. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. I'll make you want you had never been born if I ever get proof positive or capture you in the act. That was it. I simply nodded my understanding, but I didn't rather comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do precisely. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a woman. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could just imagine what wishing I 'd never been born required. Max is a huge male, a man of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, however the idea never ever 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 may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a excellent make fun of the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that launched Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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