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Three months earlier, I was your daily housewife and mother of 3-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My other half, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer 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 monotony and made me what I am today. I easily admit I am a sex addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and dirty, horrible and dirty . In dream, I desired everybody to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't want to advertise that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the junkie that knows where the addiction will lead, but doesn't desire help. The threats exceeded the repercussions because the sex was that excellent. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, got to know me, inside and out, then began her expert adjustments that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a long and difficult one for me, but nothing rewarding comes easy as my dad would say. 8 months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved 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 'd never heard such stunning and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, dads raping young daughters, women making love with animals, moms viewing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, wives handling soldiers of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little girls. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck with Staci. I felt like I had to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were constantly about somebody she knew or found out about, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. I felt like she was simply daydreaming out loud, and I thought she was a really ill lady. What I found especially troubling was that her disgusting dreams worked their method into my tame fantasies like an invading infection, pressing my simple, fairly clean visions of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured performer. I stopped my month-to-month practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and began a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout the house. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head. She told 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 whirl. I almost broke my back in the attempt, however a easy self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush manage 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 make-up, offering me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We looked for clothing a lot, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I accepted her and wore what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, throwing out every set of pants I owned. I used only brief dresses at Staci's insistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. My boring life ended when I pertained to accept my function as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female type. I have constantly thought about myself as being too short, too skinny, 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 beautiful to the severe, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfortable even when suffering prior to 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 began with a fragrant 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 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 alerted me not to cheat. I keep in mind being incensed at the simple recommendation. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the type of guy that lives in worry of his partner unfaithful on him. I will not have you followed. I will not question your activities or the way you dress. I won't sleuth or ask concerns. You can come and go as you please. , if I ever discover out that you cheated on me.. If I ever get proof positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you want you had never ever been born. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could just picture what wishing I 'd never ever been born entailed. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, however the idea never ever left my mind. I believed he may force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Perhaps, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a great make fun of the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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