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3 months earlier, I was your daily homemaker and mother of 3-- 2 young 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 ever 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 as soon as a month, I felt guilty.
The life of a housewife with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. I freely admit I am a sex junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and dirty, revolting and unclean .
In dream, I wanted everybody to know 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 junkie that knows where the dependency will lead, but doesn't want assistance. I feared my sexual dependency would essentially damage my marriage. I 'd lose my children and perhaps end up in prison. I could not assist that. Due to the fact that the sex was that great, the dangers surpassed the repercussions. I like Staci for what she's done. Eight months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her hubby is a cops investigator, 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 pudgy face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language godawful. In mixed business, I laughed uncomfortably at her crude jokes, however the stories she told 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, mothers enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, better halves handling soldiers of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, canines on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were constantly about somebody she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found particularly disturbing was that her disgusting fantasies worked their way into my tame fantasies like an attacking virus, pressing my simple, reasonably tidy daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the included entertainer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and started a everyday session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in the house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head also. 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 provide it a try. I nearly broke my back in the attempt, however a easy self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush deal with was no longer enough.
We didn't always sit for stories. Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, providing me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We shopped for clothes a lot, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe manager. I deferred to her and wore what she chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, throwing out every pair of pants I owned. I used only short gowns at Staci's persistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll, my uninteresting life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female form. She encouraged me I was gorgeous to the severe, particularly in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfortable even when suffering before her with my legs large 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 involved 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 hiding the arise from my spouse was impossible. My first cunnicure triggered 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 tip. This time, I listened diligently as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the kind of male that resides in worry of his better half unfaithful on him. I won't have you followed. I won't question your activities or the method you dress. I won't snoop or ask concerns. You can come and go as you please. If I ever discover that you cheated on me. I'll make you wish you had never ever been born if I ever get proof favorable or catch you in the act. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could just imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born required. I seriously questioned he would physically damage me, however the idea never left my mind. I believed he may force me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Maybe, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He might fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a great 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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