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Three months earlier, I was your daily homemaker and mom of 3-- 2 boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My hubby, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and probably never ever would have had we not moved 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 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 addict, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and filthy, horrible and dirty . In fantasy, I wanted everyone to know the new me. In reality, I didn't wish to advertise that fact, however 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 aid. I feared my sexual dependency would virtually ruin my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and possibly wind up in prison. I couldn't help that. The dangers exceeded the repercussions since the sex was that good. I like Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, got to know me, inside and out, then started her professional manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a tough and long one for me, however absolutely nothing rewarding comes easy as my dad would say. 8 months of client prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her partner is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common.

I 'd never ever heard such stunning and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, fathers raping young children, females making love with animals, moms viewing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, wives taking on soldiers of horny males, 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 with Staci. I seemed like I had to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were constantly about someone she knew or became aware of, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I felt like she was merely fantasizing aloud, and I thought she was a very ill woman. What I discovered particularly disturbing was that her disgusting fantasies worked their way into my tame dreams like an getting into virus, pressing my simple, relatively tidy daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, frequently with me as the included performer. 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 6 months of Staci's stories, I discovered 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 cosmetics, giving me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothes a lot, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe manager. I deferred to her and used what she chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, throwing out every pair of trousers I owned. I wore just brief gowns at Staci's insistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. My dull life ended when I came to accept my function as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female type. I have always thought about myself as being too brief, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Moreover, I considered the female genitalia as a nasty crack next to a shit hole. She persuaded me I was gorgeous to the severe, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfy even when suffering prior to her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a scented douche and included 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 arise from my partner was difficult. My very 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 keep in mind being incensed at the mere idea. This time, I listened diligently as he said, Theresa, I'm not the type of male that resides in fear of his better half cheating on him. I will not have you followed. I will not question your activities or the method you dress. I will not sleuth or ask questions. 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 never been born. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I could only picture what wanting I 'd never ever been born involved. I seriously questioned he would physically damage me, however the idea never left my mind. I thought he may require me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Possibly, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He might fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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