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Three months ago, I was your daily housewife and mom of three-- 2 kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My hubby, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never ever 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 as soon as a month, I felt guilty. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. Sex is all I believe about, and no perversion turns me off. In dream, I wanted everybody to know 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 desire help. I feared my sexual dependency would essentially ruin my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and possibly end up in prison. I couldn't help that. Since the sex was that excellent, the threats exceeded the repercussions. I love Staci for what she's done. 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 authorities investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in typical.

I 'd never heard such stunning and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking children, fathers raping young daughters, females making love with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, wives handling soldiers of randy males, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs 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 to 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 somebody she understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I seemed like she was merely thinking aloud, and I thought she was a really sick lady. What I found particularly troubling was that her disgusting dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an getting into infection, pressing my basic, fairly clean musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured performer. I stopped my month-to-month practice of masturbating in the shower using 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 6 months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head also. She told 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, but a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter'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 cosmetics, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We purchased clothing a good deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I deferred to her and wore what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, tossing out every pair of pants I owned. I wore only brief gowns at Staci's insistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. My dull life ended when I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female form. She convinced me I was gorgeous to the extreme, particularly 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 vagina version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a aromatic douche and included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, but hiding the arise from my hubby 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 remember being incensed at the mere recommendation. This time, I listened diligently as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the kind of man that lives in worry of his better half cheating on him. I will not have you followed. I will not question your activities or the method you dress. I will not sleuth 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 never ever been born if I ever get evidence positive or capture you in the act. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I might just envision what wanting I 'd never been born involved. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, however the idea never ever left my mind. I believed he may require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Perhaps, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He might fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, but 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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