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Three months back, I was your daily homemaker and mom of three-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My husband, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and most likely never ever 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 homemaker with all kids in school is boring 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 of, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and dirty, unclean and revolting . In fantasy, I wanted everyone to know the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want to market that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I resembled the addict that knows where the dependency will lead, however does not want aid. I feared my sexual dependency would essentially destroy my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and perhaps end up in prison. I could not assist that. Because the sex was that good, the threats exceeded the repercussions. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then began her professional manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a long and tough one for me, but nothing beneficial comes easy as my daddy would say. 8 months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her husband is a authorities investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in typical.

I 'd never heard such stunning and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, daddies raping young children, women having sex with animals, moms viewing 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, 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 felt like I needed to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were constantly about someone she understood or became aware of, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. I seemed like she was just daydreaming out loud, and I believed she was a extremely sick lady. What I discovered particularly disturbing was that her disgusting fantasies worked their method into my tame dreams like an getting into virus, pressing my simple, relatively clean daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured performer. I stopped my monthly 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 your house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head. 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, but a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush handle was no longer enough.

We didn't always sit for stories. The majority of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, giving me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We purchased clothing a lot, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet manager. I accepted her and wore what she chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, tossing out every set of trousers I owned. I used only brief gowns at Staci's persistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. My dull life ended when I came to accept my function as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female kind. I have constantly thought about myself as being too brief, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I thought of the female genitalia as a nasty fracture next to a shit hole. She convinced me I was lovely to the extreme, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfy even when languishing prior to her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area 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, but hiding the result from my partner was difficult. My first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max warned me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the simple idea. This time, I listened diligently as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the kind of male that resides in fear of his other 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 go and come as you please. , if I ever find out that you cheated on me.. If I ever get evidence favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never been born. That was it. I merely nodded my understanding, however I didn't quite understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a lady. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I might just picture what wanting I 'd never been born required. Max is a huge guy, a male of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, but the thought never left my mind. I believed he may force me to go through a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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