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3 months earlier, I was your daily housewife and mother of three-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My hubby, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's office. 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 when a month, I felt guilty. The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is boring to the extreme. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. I freely admit I am a sex junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and filthy, revolting and dirty . In fantasy, I wanted everybody to understand the brand-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 knows where the addiction will lead, but doesn't want assistance. I feared my sexual dependency would essentially destroy my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and possibly wind up in prison. I couldn't assist that. Because the sex was that good, the dangers outweighed the effects. I love Staci for what she's done. 8 months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her spouse is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in typical.

I 'd never heard such shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking boys, daddies raping young daughters, females making love with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, spouses taking on troops of randy males, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little women. 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 constantly about somebody she knew or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found particularly troubling was that her repellent fantasies worked their way into my tame fantasies like an attacking infection, pushing my easy, relatively tidy daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the featured performer. 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, anywhere in your house. After six months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head.

Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, providing me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothing a excellent deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I used only brief gowns at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female form. She encouraged me I was gorgeous to the extreme, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfortable 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 included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, but concealing the result from my partner was impossible. 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 remember being incensed at the mere tip. This time, I listened diligently as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the kind of male that resides in fear of his better half unfaithful on him. I won't have you followed. I will not question your activities or the way you dress. I won't sleuth or ask concerns. You can come and go as you please. If I ever learn that you cheated on me. I'll make you want you had actually never been born if I ever get evidence favorable or catch you in the act. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I could only imagine what wanting I 'd never ever been born involved. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, but the idea never left my mind. I thought he may require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Maybe, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a great make fun of the possibilities, however 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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