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3 months ago, I was your daily housewife and mom of 3-- 2 young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. My partner, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and most likely never would have had we stagnated 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 junkie, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and unclean, disgusting and filthy . In fantasy, I wanted everybody to know the brand-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 resembled the addict that understands where the addiction will lead, but doesn't want assistance. I feared my sexual dependency would essentially destroy my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and perhaps wind up in prison. I couldn't help that. Because the sex was that good, the threats exceeded the consequences. I love 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 first conference. Her partner is a cops detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common. I found 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 discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language godawful. In blended business, I laughed uncomfortably at her unrefined jokes, however the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never heard such shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking boys, daddies raping young children, women making love with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, partners taking on troops of horny 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 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 disturbing was that her vile dreams worked their method into my tame fantasies like an invading infection, pushing my basic, fairly tidy musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the featured performer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and began a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in your house. After six months of Staci's stories, I discovered 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 give it a whirl. I practically broke my back in the effort, however a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush handle was no longer enough.

We didn't constantly sit for stories. Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, offering me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We purchased clothes a great deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet 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 just short dresses at Staci's insistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll, my dull life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female form. She encouraged me I was lovely to the severe, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfy even when languishing prior to her with my legs wide 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 involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, however concealing the arise 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 cautioned me not to cheat. I keep in mind being incensed at the mere suggestion. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the kind of male that lives in fear of his spouse cheating on him. I won't have you followed. I won't question your activities or the method you dress. I won't sleuth or ask questions. You can reoccur as you please. , if I ever find out that you cheated on me.. I'll make you wish you had never been born if I ever get proof favorable or catch you in the act. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I could only picture what wishing I 'd never been born entailed. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, however the thought never left my mind. I thought he might require me to go through 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 excellent laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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