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Three months ago, I was your daily housewife and mom of 3-- 2 boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My other half, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and most likely never ever 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 dullness and made me what I am today. I easily admit I am a sex junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and unclean, dirty and horrible .
In dream, I wanted everyone to know 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 resembled the addict that knows where the dependency will lead, but does not want help. I feared my sexual addiction would virtually ruin my marriage. I 'd lose my children and possibly wind up in prison. I could not help that. The risks exceeded the effects because the sex was that good. I like Staci for what she's done. Eight months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our first meeting. Her partner is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had 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 working on my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language atrocious. In combined business, I chuckled uneasily at her unrefined jokes, but the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.
I 'd never ever heard such shocking and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking children, fathers raping young daughters, females having sex with animals, moms viewing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, wives handling soldiers of horny guys, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little girls. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about someone she understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I found particularly troubling was that her disgusting dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an getting into infection, pushing my easy, fairly clean musings of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the included performer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and started a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your home. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head too. 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 practically broke my back in the effort, however a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush handle was no longer enough.
We didn't always sit for stories. The majority 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 bought clothing a good deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I accepted her and wore what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, throwing out every pair of pants I owned. I used only brief gowns at Staci's persistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my function as a living Barbie Doll, my boring life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female form. She convinced me I was lovely to the severe, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfortable even when languishing before 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 aromatic 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 hiding the arise from my spouse was impossible. My first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max cautioned me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the mere idea. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the kind of guy that resides in worry of his partner unfaithful on him. I won't have you followed. I will not 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.. If I ever get proof positive or catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had actually never been born. That was it. I just nodded my understanding, however I didn't rather understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a woman. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could only picture what wishing I 'd never ever been born entailed. Max is a huge male, a male of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically damage me, however the idea never ever left my mind. I thought he might force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that launched Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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