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Three months ago, I was your daily homemaker and mother of three-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My partner, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's office. 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 once a month, I felt guilty. The life of a housewife with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. I easily confess I am a sex junkie, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and filthy, unclean and revolting . In dream, I desired everybody to understand the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want to advertise that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the addict that knows where the addiction will lead, but doesn't want help. I feared my sexual addiction would virtually destroy my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and perhaps wind up in prison. I could not assist that. Since the sex was that good, the risks exceeded the consequences. I like Staci for what she's done. Eight months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first meeting. Her hubby is a authorities detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common. In fact, I discovered her rather dull and one dimensional. She's likewise rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a tubby face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language atrocious. In combined company, I chuckled uncomfortably at her crude jokes, but the stories she informed me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never ever heard such stunning and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking kids, dads raping young daughters, females making love with animals, mothers watching dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, wives handling troops of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs 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 to Staci. I seemed like I had 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 found out about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I felt like she was simply thinking out loud, and I believed she was a extremely ill woman. What I found particularly disturbing was that her disgusting fantasies worked their way into my tame fantasies like an invading infection, pressing my basic, relatively clean visions of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, typically with me as the included entertainer. I stopped my month-to-month practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and began a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.

Many of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We went shopping for clothing a great deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet manager. I used only short gowns at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female type. She encouraged me I was stunning to the extreme, specifically between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfy even when suffering before 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 started with a fragrant douche and included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, however concealing the result from my other half was impossible. My very first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max alerted me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the mere suggestion. This time, I listened attentively as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the kind of man that lives in worry of his other half unfaithful on him. I will not have you followed. I won't question your activities or the method you dress. I will not sleuth or ask concerns. You can reoccur as you please. , if I ever discover out that you cheated on me.. I'll make you want you had never ever been born if I ever get proof favorable or capture you in the act. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could just envision what wanting I 'd never ever been born required. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, however the thought never left my mind. I thought he may require me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Maybe, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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