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Three months earlier, I was your daily homemaker and mother of three-- 2 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 probably 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 boredom and made me what I am today. I easily admit I am a sex addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and unclean, revolting and dirty .
In fantasy, I desired everyone to know the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want to advertise that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.
I was like the addict that understands where the addiction will lead, however doesn't want aid. I feared my sexual addiction would virtually destroy my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and potentially wind up in prison. I couldn't assist that. The dangers surpassed the repercussions since the sex was that good. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then started her specialist manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a tough and long one for me, but nothing worthwhile comes easy as my father would say. 8 months of client prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her husband is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in typical.
I 'd never heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking sons, dads raping young daughters, women making love with animals, moms viewing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, partners handling soldiers of randy 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 with Staci. I seemed like I needed to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were constantly about someone she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I felt like she was simply fantasizing out loud, and I believed she was a very ill woman. What I discovered especially disturbing was that her vile dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an invading virus, pushing my simple, relatively clean musings of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the included performer. I stopped my monthly 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, throughout your house. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head too. 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 provide it a try. I nearly broke my back in the attempt, however a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my child'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 cosmetics, offering me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We shopped for clothes a lot, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I deferred to her and wore what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, tossing out every set of pants I owned. I wore just brief dresses 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 perfect female type. She persuaded me I was lovely to the severe, specifically between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfortable even when languishing before her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began with a scented douche and included 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 hiding the result from my other half was impossible. My very first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max warned me not to cheat. I keep in mind being incensed at the mere suggestion. This time, I listened diligently as he said, Theresa, I'm not the kind of man that resides in fear of his partner cheating on him. I won't have you followed. I will not 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 actually never been born if I ever get proof favorable 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 entailed. I seriously questioned he would physically damage me, however the thought never left my mind. I thought he may force me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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