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3 months back, I was your daily housewife and mother of three-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My husband, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's workplace. 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 freely confess I am a sex junkie, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and unclean, unclean and disgusting . In fantasy, I wanted everybody to know the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't wish 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 understands where the addiction will lead, but doesn't desire help. I feared my sexual addiction would virtually destroy my marriage. I 'd lose my children and possibly wind up in prison. I could not help that. The risks surpassed the consequences 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 professional controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a long and tough one for me, however absolutely nothing beneficial comes easy as my dad would say. Eight months of patient prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our first meeting. Her other half is a police 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 pudgy face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language godawful. In combined company, I chuckled uneasily at her unrefined jokes, but 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 sons, dads raping young daughters, females making love with animals, mothers viewing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, spouses taking on soldiers of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck to Staci. I felt like I needed to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were constantly about somebody she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I seemed like she was just fantasizing out loud, and I thought she was a very ill woman. What I discovered particularly troubling was that her repellent fantasies worked their method into my tame fantasies like an invading virus, pushing my easy, fairly clean visions of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my month-to-month 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, anywhere in 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 constantly sit for stories. Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We looked for clothing a lot, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe manager. I deferred to her and wore what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, throwing out every set of trousers I owned. I wore only short gowns at Staci's persistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll, my uninteresting life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female kind. I have constantly thought of myself as being too short, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Moreover, I thought about the female genitalia as a nasty fracture next to a shit hole. She convinced me I was stunning to the extreme, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfy even when suffering 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 started with a scented douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, but concealing the result from my spouse was difficult. My very first cunnicure prompted 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 mere tip. This time, I listened diligently as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the kind of man that lives in fear of his wife unfaithful on him. I won't have you followed. I won't question your activities or the method you dress. I will not sleuth 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 proof favorable or capture you in the act, I'll make you want you had never been born. That was it. I just nodded my understanding, but I didn't rather understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a woman. He had never threatened me with divorce. I might only picture what wishing I 'd never been born entailed. Max is a big male, a male of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, but the thought never left my mind. I believed he might force me to go through a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that launched Staci's crusade to start me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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