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3 months earlier, I was your everyday homemaker and mom of three-- 2 young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My other half, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's workplace. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and most likely never would have had we not moved across the street from Staci and Joe. I was so straight if I masturbated more than when a month, I felt guilty. The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is boring to the extreme. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. I freely confess I am a sex junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and unclean, unclean and horrible . In dream, I desired everyone to understand the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want to market that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the junkie that understands where the dependency will lead, however does not want aid. The risks surpassed the repercussions due to the fact that the sex was that great. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. Eight months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first meeting. Her partner is a police detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common. I discovered her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a pudgy face. She left of high school, whereas I am working on my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language atrocious. In combined company, I laughed uncomfortably at her unrefined jokes, but the stories she informed me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never ever heard such shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, dads raping young children, females making love with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, better halves handling troops of horny males, blacks on whites, old with young, canines on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about someone she understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I discovered especially troubling was that her disgusting dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an invading virus, pressing my simple, reasonably tidy daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, often with me as the included performer. 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, throughout your home. 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 makeup, offering me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothes a great deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet manager. I accepted her and used what she chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, throwing out every pair of trousers I owned. I used just brief gowns at Staci's persistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. My dull life ended when I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female form. I have constantly thought of myself as being too brief, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I thought of the female genitalia as a nasty crack next to a shit hole. She persuaded me I was gorgeous to the extreme, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfy even when suffering before her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a fragrant douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, however hiding the result from my hubby was difficult. My very 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 keep in mind being incensed at the simple recommendation. This time, I listened attentively as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the kind of male that resides in fear of his spouse cheating on him. I won't have you followed. I won't question your activities or the way you dress. I will not snoop or ask questions. You can go and come as you please. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. I'll make you want you had never ever been born if I ever get proof favorable or catch you in the act. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could only imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born entailed. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, but the idea never left my mind. I thought he might require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Possibly, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He might fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that released Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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