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3 months earlier, I was your daily housewife and mom of 3-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. My hubby, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's workplace. Cheating on Max never 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. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. In fantasy, I wanted everyone to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't want to advertise that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I resembled the junkie that understands where the dependency will lead, but doesn't want assistance. I feared my sexual addiction would virtually ruin my marriage. I 'd lose my children and possibly wind up in prison. I could not help that. Because the sex was that excellent, the dangers outweighed the effects. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. 8 months of client prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first meeting. Her hubby is a authorities 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 horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking boys, dads raping young children, females having sex with animals, mothers viewing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, wives handling troops of horny men, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs 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 make fun of her jokes. Her stories were constantly about somebody she knew or became aware of, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I felt like she was just thinking out loud, and I believed she was a very sick lady. What I found especially disturbing was that her vile fantasies worked their way into my tame fantasies like an getting into virus, pressing my basic, relatively clean musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my regular 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, throughout your home. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head too. 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 provide it a try. I almost broke my back in the attempt, but a easy self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush handle was no longer enough.

We didn't constantly sit for stories. Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, offering me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We purchased clothing a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I deferred to her and wore what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, throwing out every pair of pants I owned. I used only short dresses at Staci's insistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. My uninteresting life ended when I concerned accept my role as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female type. She convinced me I was lovely to the severe, particularly in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfortable even when suffering before her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began with a aromatic douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, however hiding the result from my spouse was difficult. My very first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max cautioned me not to cheat. I keep in mind being incensed at the mere suggestion. This time, I listened attentively as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the kind of man that resides in worry of his wife cheating on him. I will not have you followed. I will not question your activities or the method you dress. I will not sleuth or ask questions. You can come and go as you please. If I ever learn that you cheated on me. I'll make you wish you had actually never ever been born if I ever get proof positive or capture you in the act. That was it. I merely nodded my understanding, but I didn't rather comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a female. He had never threatened me with divorce. I might just envision what wanting I 'd never ever been born required. Max is a huge male, a guy of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, however the idea never left my mind. I thought he might require me to undergo a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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