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Three months back, I was your everyday homemaker and mom of three-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My husband, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's office. 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 when a month, I felt guilty. The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is tiring 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 want my sex down and unclean, unclean and revolting . In dream, I desired everyone to understand the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want to market 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 doesn't want help. I feared my sexual addiction would practically ruin my marriage. I 'd lose my children and potentially wind up in prison. I could not help that. The risks outweighed the repercussions because the sex was that great. I like Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then began her specialist controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a long and tough one for me, but nothing beneficial comes easy as my dad would say. 8 months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her husband is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had 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 dropped out of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language godawful. In blended business, I chuckled uncomfortably at her crude jokes, but the stories she informed me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never heard such shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking children, daddies raping young daughters, women making love with animals, mothers seeing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, wives taking on troops of randy guys, 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 brothers, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were constantly about someone she understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found especially troubling was that her repellent fantasies worked their method into my tame fantasies like an getting into virus, pushing my simple, fairly clean musings of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, often with me as the featured performer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and started a day-to-day 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 idea 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 offer it a try. I practically broke my back in the effort, however a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush handle was no longer enough.

We didn't always sit for stories. The majority of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We purchased clothes a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet supervisor. I deferred to her and used what she chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, throwing out every pair of pants I owned. I used just short dresses at Staci's insistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. My uninteresting life ended when I concerned accept my role as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female kind. She encouraged me I was lovely to the severe, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfortable even when languishing prior to her with my legs broad 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 involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, however concealing the arise 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 marital relationship, Max cautioned me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the mere recommendation. This time, I listened diligently as he said, Theresa, I'm not the type of guy that resides in fear of his wife unfaithful on him. I won't have you followed. I will not question your activities or the method you dress. I will not sleuth or ask questions. You can go and come as you please. If I ever learn that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you want you had never been born. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could just imagine what wanting I 'd never ever been born entailed. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, however 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 excellent laugh at the possibilities, but 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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