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Three months ago, I was your daily housewife and mother of three-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. My other half, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and most likely 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 homemaker with all kids in school is boring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. I easily confess I am a sex junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and unclean, revolting and filthy . In dream, I wanted 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 was like the junkie that understands where the dependency will lead, however doesn't desire assistance. I feared my sexual addiction would essentially damage my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and possibly end up in prison. I couldn't help that. Because the sex was that excellent, the dangers exceeded the effects. I like Staci for what she's done. Eight months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our first conference. Her other half is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common. I discovered her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a tubby face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am working on my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language godawful. In mixed company, I chuckled uncomfortably at her crude jokes, however the stories she told 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, females making love with animals, mothers viewing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, spouses handling troops of horny males, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about somebody she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found especially troubling was that her vile fantasies worked their way into my tame dreams like an invading infection, pushing my simple, fairly tidy daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and started a day-to-day 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 also. 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, but a basic self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush handle was no longer enough.

Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, providing me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothes a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I wore just brief gowns at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female kind. I have actually always thought of myself as being too short, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Moreover, I thought of the female genitalia as a nasty crack beside a shit hole. She convinced me I was lovely to the extreme, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfortable even when suffering 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 started 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 hiding the result from my husband was difficult. My first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max warned me not to cheat. I keep in mind being incensed at the mere idea. This time, I listened diligently as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the kind of man that lives in worry of his other half unfaithful on him. I will not have you followed. I will not question your activities or the way you dress. I won't snoop or ask questions. You can go and come as you please. If I ever learn that you cheated on me. I'll make you want you had never ever been born if I ever get proof favorable or catch you in the act. That was it. I simply nodded my understanding, but I didn't quite 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 might just picture what wishing I 'd never ever been born entailed. Max is a big guy, a guy of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, however the idea never left my mind. I thought he may force me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to start me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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