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Three months earlier, I was your everyday housewife and mom of 3-- 2 boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. My hubby, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and probably 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 tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony 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 unclean, dirty and revolting . In fantasy, I desired everyone to understand the 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 was like the addict that understands where the addiction will lead, but doesn't desire aid. The risks exceeded the consequences 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 specialist controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a long and hard one for me, but nothing worthwhile comes easy as my daddy would say. Eight months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her husband 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 shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking boys, fathers raping young daughters, females having sex with animals, mothers viewing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, better halves taking on soldiers of randy males, blacks on whites, old with young, canines on little women. 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 knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found particularly disturbing was that her repellent dreams worked their method into my tame fantasies like an invading virus, pressing my simple, fairly clean visions of romantic love out changing 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 utilizing a water wand, and began a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your home. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.

We didn't constantly sit for stories. Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We looked for clothing a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I accepted her and wore what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, tossing out every pair of pants I owned. I wore just brief dresses at Staci's insistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my function as a living Barbie Doll, my dull life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female type. She persuaded me I was gorgeous to the severe, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfortable even when languishing prior to 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 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 concealing the arise from my husband was impossible. My very first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max cautioned me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the simple tip. This time, I listened diligently as he said, Theresa, I'm not the kind of guy that resides in worry of his partner unfaithful on him. I will not have you followed. I won't question your activities or the way you dress. I will not snoop or ask concerns. You can go and come as you please. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you wish you had actually never ever been born. That was it. I just nodded my understanding, however I didn't rather understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a woman. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I might only picture what wishing I 'd never been born entailed. Max is a huge male, a guy of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, however the thought never ever left my mind. I thought he may force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that launched Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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