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Three months earlier, I was your everyday homemaker and mom of three-- 2 kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. My husband, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's workplace. 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 as soon as a month, I felt guilty. The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. I freely confess I am a sex addict, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and unclean, revolting and dirty . In dream, I desired everybody to know the new me. In reality, I didn't wish to market that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the addict that knows where the addiction will lead, but does not desire aid. The dangers outweighed the consequences due to the fact that the sex was that great. I like Staci for what she's done. Eight months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her spouse is a authorities detective, 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 boys, daddies raping young children, ladies making love with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, other halves handling soldiers of randy guys, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about someone she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I found particularly troubling was that her vile dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an getting into virus, pushing my simple, relatively clean daydreams of romantic love out changing 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 utilizing a water wand, and began a everyday session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout 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 give it a try. I nearly broke my back in the attempt, but a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush manage was no longer enough.

We didn't constantly sit for stories. The majority of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We bought clothes a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I accepted her and wore what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, tossing out every pair of pants I owned. I used only brief dresses at Staci's insistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my function as a living Barbie Doll, my boring life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female form. She encouraged me I was beautiful to the severe, specifically in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfy even when suffering prior to 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 extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, however concealing the result from my partner was difficult. My very first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max warned me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the mere tip. This time, I listened attentively as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the type of man that lives in fear of his spouse unfaithful on him. I won't have you followed. I will not question your activities or the way you dress. I will not snoop or ask concerns. You can go and come as you please. If I ever discover that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had actually never ever been born. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I might only imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born involved. I seriously questioned he would physically damage me, but the thought never left my mind. I believed he might require me to go through 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 good laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that released Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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