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Three months earlier, I was your daily housewife and mother of 3-- 2 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 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 monotony and made me what I am today. I freely admit I am a sex junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and dirty, unclean and disgusting . In dream, I desired everybody to know the 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 does not want assistance. The threats outweighed the effects since the sex was that good. I like Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, got to know me, inside and out, then started her professional controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a challenging and long one for me, however absolutely nothing worthwhile comes easy as my daddy would say. Eight months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her hubby is a cops detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common.

I 'd never heard such stunning and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking boys, daddies raping young daughters, females having sex with animals, moms enjoying dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, partners taking on troops of horny males, blacks on whites, old with young, canines on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, 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 especially troubling was that her repellent dreams worked their method into my tame dreams like an getting into infection, pushing my easy, fairly tidy daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the included performer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and started 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 learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head.

We didn't constantly sit for stories. The majority 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 continuously. We shopped for clothes a great deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet manager. I deferred to her and used what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, tossing out every set of pants I owned. I used only brief gowns at Staci's persistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll, my uninteresting life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female form. I have actually 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 persuaded me I was beautiful to the extreme, particularly in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfy even when suffering before her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started 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 fragrance. I liked her manicures, but concealing the arise from my hubby was difficult. My very first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max cautioned me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the simple idea. This time, I listened diligently as he said, Theresa, I'm not the kind of male that resides in worry of his wife 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 reoccur as you please. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof positive or catch you in the act, I'll make you want you had actually never ever been born. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I could only picture what wanting I 'd never been born entailed. I seriously questioned he would physically damage me, but the thought never left my mind. I thought he may force me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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