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3 months ago, I was your everyday homemaker and mother of 3-- 2 young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My other half, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and most likely 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 housewife with all kids in school is boring to the extreme. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. I easily confess I am a sex addict, 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 disgusting . In dream, I wanted everybody 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 resembled the addict that knows where the addiction will lead, however doesn't desire help. I feared my sexual addiction would virtually destroy my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and potentially wind up in prison. I could not help that. The dangers exceeded the consequences since the sex was that great. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then began her expert adjustments that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a long and challenging one for me, but absolutely nothing rewarding comes easy as my father would state. Eight months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her partner is a cops detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common. In fact, I discovered 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 atrocious. In mixed company, I laughed uneasily at her crude jokes, however the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never ever heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking boys, dads raping young children, women having sex with animals, mothers seeing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, partners handling soldiers of horny men, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little girls. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about somebody she understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found especially disturbing was that her repellent fantasies worked their method into my tame dreams like an getting into infection, pressing my easy, reasonably tidy daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the included performer. I stopped my month-to-month 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 home. After six 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 give it a try. I practically broke my back in the effort, however a easy self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush handle 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, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We looked for clothes a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet supervisor. I deferred to her and wore what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, throwing out every pair of pants I owned. I used just brief gowns at Staci's persistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my function as a living Barbie Doll, my uninteresting life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female type. She encouraged me I was beautiful to the severe, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfortable even when languishing prior to her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began 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 perfume. I liked her manicures, but hiding the result from my other half was difficult. My first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max alerted me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the simple suggestion. This time, I listened diligently as he said, Theresa, I'm not the kind of man that lives in fear of his other half unfaithful on him. I won't 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 actually never ever been born if I ever get evidence favorable or catch you in the act. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I might only envision what wanting I 'd never been born entailed. I seriously questioned he would physically hurt me, but the thought never left my mind. I believed he may force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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