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3 months ago, I was your daily housewife and mom of 3-- 2 young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My partner, 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 once a month, I felt guilty. The life of a housewife with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. I easily confess I am a sex addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and dirty, unclean and disgusting . 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, but doesn't desire help. The risks outweighed the consequences due to the fact that the sex was that excellent. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. Eight months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her other half is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common. In fact, I found her rather dull and one dimensional. She's likewise rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a pudgy 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 blended business, I laughed uncomfortably 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 horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking sons, daddies raping young daughters, females having sex with animals, mothers viewing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, partners taking on troops of randy guys, 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 siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. I felt like I needed to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were constantly about someone she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I seemed like she was simply daydreaming out loud, and I thought she was a extremely sick lady. What I found especially disturbing was that her repellent dreams worked their method into my tame fantasies like an invading virus, pushing my basic, relatively clean musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, typically with me as the included performer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and started a everyday session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in your house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head also. 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 provide it a whirl. I practically broke my back in the effort, but a easy self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush handle was no longer enough.

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, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We looked for clothes a great deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet manager. I accepted her and used what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, throwing out every set of trousers I owned. I used only brief dresses at Staci's insistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. My uninteresting 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 ideal female form. I have always thought of myself as being too brief, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. In addition, I considered the female genitalia as a nasty fracture beside a shit hole. She persuaded me I was beautiful to the severe, specifically in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfortable even when suffering prior to her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began with a scented douche and included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, however concealing the result from my spouse was impossible. My very first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max warned me not to cheat. I keep in mind being incensed at the simple recommendation. This time, I listened diligently as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the kind of man that lives in fear of his other half unfaithful on him. I will not have you followed. I won't question your activities or the way you dress. I will not snoop or ask questions. You can reoccur as you please. , if I ever discover out that you cheated on me.. I'll make you want you had actually never been born if I ever get proof favorable or capture you in the act. That was it. I just nodded my understanding, but I didn't rather understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a woman. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I might only picture what wishing I 'd never been born entailed. Max is a big guy, a guy of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, however the idea never ever left my mind. I believed he might require me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Maybe, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a excellent make fun of the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that launched Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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