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3 months earlier, I was your everyday housewife and mom of 3-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My partner, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's workplace. 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 boring to the extreme. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. I freely admit I am a sex junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and dirty, unclean and revolting . In dream, I desired everyone 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 understands where the addiction will lead, but does not desire assistance. The dangers surpassed the repercussions since the sex was that excellent. I like Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, got to know me, inside and out, then began her professional controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a challenging and long one for me, however absolutely nothing rewarding comes easy as my dad would say. Eight months of patient prodding has actually settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first meeting. Her spouse is a authorities detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in typical.

I 'd never ever heard such stunning and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, dads raping young children, women having sex with animals, mothers watching dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, better halves handling troops of horny guys, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little girls. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were constantly about someone she understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found especially troubling was that her disgusting fantasies worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking infection, pressing my easy, relatively tidy visions of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and began a everyday session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in the house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head.

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, providing me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We purchased clothes a good deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I deferred to her and used what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, tossing out every set of trousers I owned. I used just brief gowns at Staci's persistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. My dull life ended when I concerned accept my role as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female kind. I have constantly considered myself as being too brief, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I believed of the female genitalia as a nasty crack next to a shit hole. She persuaded me I was lovely to the extreme, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, but 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 started with a aromatic douche and included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, but hiding the arise from my partner 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 alerted me not to cheat. I keep in mind being incensed at the simple tip. This time, I listened diligently as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the kind of man that resides in fear of his better half cheating on him. I won't have you followed. I won't question your activities or the way you dress. I will not sleuth or ask concerns. You can come and go as you please. If I ever discover that you cheated on me. I'll make you want you had never been born if I ever get evidence favorable or capture you in the act. That was it. I just nodded my understanding, however I didn't rather understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do precisely. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a female. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I might just envision what wanting I 'd never ever been born required. Max is a huge guy, a man of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically hurt me, however the thought never left my mind. I believed he may require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good 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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