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Three months back, I was your daily homemaker and mom of 3-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My partner, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's workplace. Cheating on Max never 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 easily admit I am a sex junkie, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and dirty, unclean and horrible .
In dream, I wanted everybody to understand the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want to promote 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 dependency will lead, but does not desire help. The risks outweighed the effects because 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 absolutely nothing rewarding comes easy as my father would say. Eight months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her husband is a police detective, 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 likewise rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a pudgy face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am working on my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language atrocious. In combined company, I laughed uncomfortably at her unrefined jokes, however the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.
I 'd never heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking kids, dads raping young children, ladies making love with animals, moms enjoying dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, partners handling soldiers of horny men, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little girls. 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 somebody she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I discovered especially troubling was that her vile fantasies worked their method into my tame fantasies like an attacking virus, pressing my simple, relatively tidy daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the featured performer. I stopped my month-to-month 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 house. After six months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.
We didn't always sit for stories. The majority of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothes a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe manager. I accepted her and wore what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, throwing out every pair of trousers I owned. I used just 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 dull life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female type. She convinced me I was gorgeous to the extreme, specifically in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfortable even when languishing before her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began with a scented douche and included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, but hiding the result from my partner 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 mere recommendation. This time, I listened diligently as he said, Theresa, I'm not the kind of guy that resides in worry of his partner cheating on him. I won't have you followed. I will not question your activities or the method you dress. I will not snoop 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 want you had never been born if I ever get proof positive or capture you in the act. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I could only envision what wanting I 'd never ever been born involved. I seriously questioned he would physically damage me, however the thought never ever left my mind. I thought he may force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that released Staci's crusade to begin me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.
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