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Three months ago, I was your daily housewife and mom of three-- 2 boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My spouse, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and probably 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 housewife 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 whore, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and unclean, dirty and horrible .
In dream, I desired everybody to understand the 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 knows where the addiction will lead, however does not want help. The threats outweighed the consequences since the sex was that excellent. I love Staci for what she's done. 8 months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her partner 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 dealing with my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language godawful. In combined company, I chuckled uneasily at her crude jokes, however the stories she informed me when we were alone left me speechless.
I 'd never ever heard such stunning and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking kids, dads raping young children, ladies making love with animals, mothers watching dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, spouses taking on soldiers of horny guys, blacks on whites, old with young, pets 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 seemed like I needed to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were constantly about someone she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. I felt like she was simply daydreaming aloud, and I thought she was a extremely sick female. What I discovered especially troubling was that her repellent dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an getting into infection, pushing my basic, reasonably tidy visions 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 everyday 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 spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, offering me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We looked for clothes a good deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe manager. I deferred to her and used what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, tossing out every set of pants I owned. I wore just brief dresses at Staci's persistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. My uninteresting life ended when I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female kind. She encouraged me I was gorgeous to the severe, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfortable even when suffering prior to her with my legs broad 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 extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, however concealing the result from my spouse was difficult. 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 tip. This time, I listened diligently as he said, Theresa, I'm not the type of man that resides in worry of his wife cheating on him. I won't have you followed. I won't question your activities or the method you dress. I will not snoop or ask concerns. You can go and come as you please. , if I ever find out that you cheated on me.. I'll make you want you had never been born if I ever get proof positive or catch you in the act. He had never threatened me with divorce. I might just imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born entailed. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, however the idea never left my mind. I believed he may require me to undergo a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.
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