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Three months earlier, I was your daily homemaker and mom of 3-- 2 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 office. 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 housewife 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 addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and filthy, revolting and filthy . In fantasy, I desired everyone to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't want to promote that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the addict that knows where the addiction will lead, however does not want assistance. The threats surpassed the repercussions because the sex was that excellent. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. Eight months of client prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her partner is a police detective, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common.

I 'd never heard such stunning and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking sons, fathers raping young daughters, ladies having sex with animals, mothers seeing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, partners handling soldiers of randy guys, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little women. 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 understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found particularly troubling was that her disgusting dreams worked their method into my tame dreams like an invading infection, pushing my easy, fairly clean daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, typically with me as the included entertainer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and began a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your home. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept 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 make-up, offering me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We bought clothing a lot, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet supervisor. I accepted her and used what she chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, tossing out every pair of trousers I owned. I used only brief dresses at Staci's persistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll, my boring life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female form. She persuaded me I was lovely to the extreme, specifically between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfy even when suffering before her with my legs wide 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 concealing the result from my partner was difficult. My first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max cautioned me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the simple suggestion. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the kind of man that resides in worry of his better half cheating on him. I will not have you followed. I won't question your activities or the way you dress. I won't snoop or ask concerns. You can go and come as you please. , if I ever find out that you cheated on me.. If I ever get evidence positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you want you had never been born. That was it. I simply nodded my understanding, however I didn't rather comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a lady. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could only imagine what wanting I 'd never ever been born required. Max is a big male, a man of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, but the thought never ever left my mind. I believed 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, oddly enough, that launched Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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