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3 months earlier, I was your daily homemaker and mom of three-- 2 young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My husband, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and most likely 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 dullness and made me what I am today. I freely 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, filthy and horrible . In fantasy, I wanted everyone to know the new me. In reality, I didn't want to promote that fact, however 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 doesn't want help. I feared my sexual dependency would essentially destroy my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and possibly end up in prison. I couldn't help that. The dangers exceeded the repercussions since the sex was that great. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. Eight months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her spouse is a police detective, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common.

I 'd never heard such stunning and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, daddies raping young children, ladies making love with animals, moms watching dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, better halves taking on troops of horny men, 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 brothers, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about someone she knew or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I found especially disturbing was that her disgusting dreams worked their method into my tame dreams like an attacking infection, pushing my simple, reasonably clean musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically 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, anywhere in the house. After six months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.

Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, giving me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothes a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe manager. I used only brief dresses at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female kind. I have actually always considered myself as being too short, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Furthermore, I considered the female genitalia as a nasty crack beside a shit hole. She encouraged me I was beautiful to the severe, specifically in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfy 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 started with a aromatic douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, however hiding the arise from my husband was difficult. My very first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max alerted me not to cheat. I keep in mind being incensed at the simple idea. This time, I listened diligently as he said, Theresa, I'm not the kind of guy that resides in fear of his wife cheating 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 concerns. You can come and go as you please. , if I ever find out that you cheated on me.. I'll make you wish you had never ever been born if I ever get proof favorable or catch you in the act. That was it. I just nodded my understanding, however I didn't quite comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a female. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I could only imagine what wishing I 'd never been born required. Max is a huge man, a guy of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, however the thought never left my mind. I believed he might force me to undergo a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that launched Staci's crusade to begin me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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