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Three months earlier, I was your everyday homemaker and mom of three-- 2 boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. My husband, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's workplace. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and probably 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 tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. I freely confess 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 filthy, dirty and disgusting . In dream, I wanted everybody to know 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 was like the junkie that understands where the addiction will lead, but does not want aid. I feared my sexual addiction would practically ruin my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and potentially end up in prison. I couldn't assist that. The risks exceeded the consequences due to the fact that the sex was that great. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. 8 months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her spouse is a police detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common. In fact, I found her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a pudgy face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language atrocious. In combined business, I laughed uneasily at her unrefined jokes, however the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never ever heard such shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking boys, fathers raping young daughters, women making love with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, partners handling troops of randy guys, blacks on whites, old with young, canines on little ladies. 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 understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found especially disturbing was that her disgusting fantasies worked their way into my tame fantasies like an getting into virus, pressing my basic, fairly tidy musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my 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 the house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept 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 whirl. I almost broke my back in the effort, however a basic self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush deal with was no longer enough.

Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, giving me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We went shopping for clothing a terrific deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet supervisor. I wore only brief gowns at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female form. She persuaded me I was beautiful to the severe, specifically between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfy even when languishing prior to her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began 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, but concealing the arise 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 marital relationship, Max cautioned me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the simple idea. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the type of man that lives in fear of his better half cheating on him. I won't have you followed. I will not question your activities or the method you dress. I won't sleuth or ask concerns. You can reoccur as you please. If I ever discover that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof favorable or capture you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never ever been born. That was it. I merely nodded my understanding, but I didn't rather understand. 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 could only imagine what wanting I 'd never been born entailed. Max is a big man, a guy of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically damage me, however the thought never left my mind. I believed he may force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Maybe, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He might fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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