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3 months back, I was your everyday homemaker and mother of 3-- 2 boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman 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 stagnated 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 homemaker with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. I easily admit I am a sex junkie, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and dirty, horrible and unclean .
In fantasy, I wanted everyone to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't wish 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, however doesn't want help. I feared my sexual dependency would virtually ruin my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and perhaps end up in prison. I could not help that. The dangers surpassed the effects due to the fact that 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 specialist controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a tough and long one for me, however nothing beneficial comes easy as my father would say. Eight months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her husband is a authorities investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common.
I 'd never heard such stunning 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 enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, other halves taking on soldiers of horny men, blacks on whites, old with young, canines on little girls. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about someone she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found especially disturbing was that her vile fantasies worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking virus, pushing my simple, relatively tidy musings of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my month-to-month practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and started a day-to-day 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 too. 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 nearly broke my back in the attempt, 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. 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 constantly. We bought clothing a lot, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe manager. I deferred to her and wore what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, throwing out every set of pants I owned. I used just brief dresses at Staci's insistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. My dull life ended when I pertained to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female type. I have always thought about myself as being too short, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Additionally, I thought about the female genitalia as a nasty fracture next to a shit hole. She persuaded me I was lovely to the severe, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfortable even when languishing before 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 started with a fragrant douche and included 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 concealing the result from my partner was difficult. My very first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max cautioned me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the simple tip. This time, I listened diligently as he said, Theresa, I'm not the type of male that lives in worry of his other half cheating on him. I won't have you followed. I will not question your activities or the way you dress. I won't sleuth or ask concerns. You can go and come as you please. , if I ever find out that you cheated on me.. If I ever get proof positive or catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never been born. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could only picture what wanting I 'd never ever been born involved. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, but the idea never ever left my mind. I thought he may force me to go through a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that released Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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