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Three months ago, I was your daily housewife and mother of 3-- 2 kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My other half, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and probably 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 housewife with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. I freely admit I am a sex junkie, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and filthy, filthy and revolting . In fantasy, I wanted everyone to know the brand-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 was like the junkie that knows where the addiction will lead, however does not desire assistance. I feared my sexual addiction would essentially destroy my marriage. I 'd lose my children and potentially end up in prison. I could not assist that. The dangers surpassed the repercussions because 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 began her professional controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a long and hard one for me, but nothing beneficial comes easy as my father would state. 8 months of patient prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her hubby is a authorities investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had nothing in typical.

I 'd never heard such stunning and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking sons, daddies raping young children, women making love with animals, moms watching dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, partners taking on troops of randy males, 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 brothers, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about someone she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I discovered especially disturbing was that her disgusting fantasies worked their method into my tame dreams like an invading virus, pressing my basic, fairly clean daydreams of romantic love out changing 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 the house. After six months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head.

We didn't always sit for stories. Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, providing 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 supervisor. I accepted her and used what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, throwing out every pair of pants I owned. I wore just brief gowns at Staci's persistence. 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 perfect female type. She encouraged me I was beautiful to the extreme, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfy even when languishing before her with my legs large 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 concealing the result from my hubby was difficult. My first cunnicure triggered 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 idea. This time, I listened attentively as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the kind of male that lives in fear of his spouse unfaithful on him. I won't have you followed. I will not question your activities or the method you dress. I won't snoop or ask concerns. You can go and come as you please. If I ever discover that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had actually never ever been born. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I could only picture what wishing I 'd never ever been born entailed. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, but the idea never left my mind. I thought he may require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to start me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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