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Three months ago, I was your everyday housewife and mother of three-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My partner, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney 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 as soon as a month, I felt guilty. The life of a housewife with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. I freely 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 filthy, filthy and disgusting . In fantasy, I wanted everybody to know the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want to advertise 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 does not want help. The threats surpassed the effects since the sex was that great. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. Eight months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first meeting. Her hubby is a authorities investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in typical.

I 'd never ever heard such shocking and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking boys, dads raping young daughters, females making love with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, partners taking on troops of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little girls. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about someone she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I found especially troubling was that her repellent fantasies worked their way into my tame fantasies like an attacking virus, pushing my easy, fairly clean daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, frequently with me as the included performer. I stopped my month-to-month practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and began a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in the house. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head. She told 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 try. I nearly broke my back in the attempt, but a basic self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush manage was no longer enough.

Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, offering me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We went shopping for clothes a excellent offer, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I used only short dresses at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female form. I have actually constantly thought of myself as being too short, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I thought of the female genitalia as a nasty fracture next to a shit hole. She persuaded me I was gorgeous to the severe, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfy even when languishing prior to her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began 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 fragrance. I liked her manicures, however hiding the result from my husband was impossible. My very first cunnicure triggered 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 simple suggestion. This time, I listened diligently as he said, Theresa, I'm not the kind of man that resides in fear of his partner unfaithful on him. I will not have you followed. I won't question your activities or the way you dress. I won't 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 proof favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never ever been born. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I might just envision what wishing I 'd never ever been born required. I seriously questioned he would physically hurt me, but the idea never left my mind. I thought he may require me to go through a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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