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3 months earlier, I was your daily homemaker and mother of 3-- 2 young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. My other half, 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 tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. I easily confess I am a sex junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and unclean, disgusting and dirty .
In fantasy, I desired everyone to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't want to promote that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.
I was like the addict that knows where the dependency will lead, however doesn't desire assistance. I feared my sexual dependency would essentially ruin my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and perhaps end up in prison. I could not help that. Since the sex was that good, the risks exceeded the repercussions. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, learnt more about me, inside and out, then started her specialist adjustments that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a challenging and long one for me, but absolutely nothing worthwhile comes easy as my daddy would state. 8 months of client prodding has actually settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her spouse is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common. I found her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a chubby face. She left of high school, whereas I am working on my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language godawful. In mixed business, I chuckled uncomfortably at her crude jokes, but the stories she informed me when we were alone left me speechless.
I 'd never heard such shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking boys, fathers raping young daughters, females having sex with animals, mothers enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, partners taking on troops of horny guys, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little women. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck to Staci. I felt like I had to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were always about somebody she understood or became aware of, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. I felt like she was simply thinking out loud, and I believed she was a really sick female. What I discovered particularly disturbing was that her vile fantasies worked their method into my tame fantasies like an attacking virus, pushing my easy, relatively clean visions of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, often with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and began a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your house. After six months of Staci's stories, I found out 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 try. I practically broke my back in the effort, however a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush manage was no longer enough.
We didn't always sit for stories. The majority of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, offering me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We bought clothes a great deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I deferred to her and wore what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, throwing out every set of trousers I owned. I used only short dresses at Staci's insistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll, my uninteresting life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female type. I have constantly thought of myself as being too short, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I thought of the female genitalia as a nasty fracture next to a shit hole. She convinced me I was beautiful to the extreme, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfy even when languishing prior to 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 fragrant douche and involved 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 arise from my spouse was difficult. My 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 tip. This time, I listened diligently as he said, Theresa, I'm not the type of man that resides in fear of his wife cheating on him. I will not have you followed. I won't question your activities or the method you dress. I won't sleuth or ask questions. You can go and come as you please. If I ever discover that you cheated on me. I'll make you wish you had never been born if I ever get evidence favorable or catch you in the act. He had never threatened me with divorce. I might only envision what wishing I 'd never ever been born involved. I seriously questioned he would physically hurt me, however the thought never left my mind. I believed he may force me to go through a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that launched Staci's crusade to begin me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.
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