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Three months earlier, I was your daily housewife and mom of three-- 2 young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My hubby, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's workplace. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and probably never would have had we stagnated 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 housewife with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. I easily 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 filthy, unclean and disgusting .
In dream, I wanted everyone to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't wish to advertise that fact, but 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, but doesn't want help. I feared my sexual addiction would virtually destroy my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and possibly end up in prison. I couldn't help that. Because the sex was that excellent, the threats outweighed the consequences. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then started her specialist manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a long and challenging one for me, but absolutely nothing beneficial comes easy as my dad would say. Eight months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her husband is a cops investigator, 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 tubby face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language atrocious. In blended business, I chuckled uneasily at her crude jokes, but the stories she informed me when we were alone left me speechless.
I 'd never heard such stunning and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, fathers raping young children, females making love with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, better halves taking on troops of horny men, 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 bros, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about somebody she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I discovered particularly troubling was that her repellent fantasies worked their way into my tame fantasies like an getting into virus, pressing my simple, relatively tidy musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, frequently with me as the included performer. I stopped my regular monthly 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, anywhere in 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 as well. 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 try. I almost broke my back in the effort, but a basic self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush manage was no longer enough.
Many of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We went shopping for clothing a terrific deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet manager. I used just brief dresses at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female kind. I have actually always thought about myself as being too brief, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. In addition, I thought about the female genitalia as a nasty crack next to a shit hole. She encouraged me I was beautiful to the extreme, specifically between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfortable even when suffering before her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina version 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, however concealing the result from my other half was difficult. My very first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max cautioned me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the simple recommendation. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the kind of man that resides in fear of his better half cheating on him. I will not have you followed. I will not 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 learn that you cheated on me. I'll make you want you had actually never ever been born if I ever get proof positive or capture you in the act. That was it. I simply nodded my understanding, but I didn't quite understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do precisely. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a female. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I might just envision what wishing I 'd never ever been born required. Max is a huge male, a guy of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, but the thought never ever left my mind. I believed 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 introduced Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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