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3 months ago, I was your daily housewife and mom of three-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My other half, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and probably never would have had we not moved 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 tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. I easily 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 dirty, dirty and revolting . In dream, I wanted everybody to know the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't wish to market that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I resembled the addict that understands where the addiction will lead, but doesn't want assistance. I feared my sexual dependency would virtually destroy my marriage. I 'd lose my children and possibly wind up in prison. I couldn't assist that. Due to the fact that the sex was that great, the dangers outweighed the consequences. I love Staci for what she's done. 8 months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her spouse is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had nothing in typical.

I 'd never ever heard such shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking kids, fathers raping young daughters, females making love with animals, mothers enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, better halves taking on soldiers of horny males, blacks on whites, old with young, canines 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 somebody she knew or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I discovered especially disturbing was that her disgusting fantasies worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking virus, pressing my simple, relatively clean daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured performer. I stopped my month-to-month practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and began a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head. She informed 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 offer it a whirl. I almost broke my back in the attempt, but a basic self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush deal with was no longer enough.

We didn't constantly sit for stories. Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, providing me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We looked for clothing a lot, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet supervisor. I deferred to her and used what she chose. 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 became Staci's live Barbie Doll. My dull life ended when I concerned accept my function as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female kind. She encouraged me I was gorgeous to the severe, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfortable even when suffering before her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began 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 perfume. I liked her manicures, however hiding the result from my partner was impossible. My very first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max alerted me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the simple recommendation. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the type of man that resides in fear of his spouse 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 discover out that you cheated on me.. If I ever get proof positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never been born. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I might just picture what wishing I 'd never ever been born involved. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, but the idea never ever left my mind. I believed he might force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Perhaps, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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