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3 months earlier, I was your everyday homemaker and mother of 3-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My husband, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's office. 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. The life of a housewife with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. I easily confess I am a sex addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and unclean, horrible and dirty . In dream, I desired everybody to know the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't wish to market 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, however doesn't want aid. I feared my sexual addiction would virtually ruin my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and potentially wind up in prison. I could not help that. The risks exceeded the consequences since the sex was that great. I like Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, learnt more about me, inside and out, then began her specialist controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a long and difficult one for me, however nothing worthwhile comes easy as my dad would say. 8 months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her partner is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common. I found her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a chubby face. She left of high school, whereas I am working on my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language godawful. In mixed business, I laughed uneasily at her unrefined jokes, however the stories she informed me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never heard such stunning and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking sons, fathers raping young children, women making love with animals, mothers seeing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, wives handling troops of randy males, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little girls. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. I felt like I needed to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were always about somebody she understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. I felt like she was simply thinking aloud, and I believed she was a extremely sick female. What I discovered particularly troubling was that her repellent dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an getting into virus, pushing my easy, fairly clean visions of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured performer. I stopped my 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 learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.

We didn't always sit for stories. Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, offering me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothing a good deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe manager. I accepted her and used what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, tossing out every set of trousers I owned. I used only brief gowns at Staci's insistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. My boring life ended when I came to accept my function as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female kind. She persuaded me I was stunning to the extreme, specifically between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfortable even when languishing 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 fragrant douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, however concealing the arise from my partner was impossible. My very first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max alerted me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the simple tip. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the kind of man that lives in worry of his wife unfaithful on him. I won't have you followed. I will not question your activities or the way you dress. I will not sleuth or ask questions. You can go and come as you please. , if I ever discover out that you cheated on me.. I'll make you wish you had actually never been born if I ever get evidence favorable or catch you in the act. That was it. I simply nodded my understanding, however I didn't rather understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a lady. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I could only picture what wanting I 'd never ever been born involved. Max is a big guy, a male of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically damage me, but the thought never left my mind. I believed he might require me to undergo a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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