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3 months earlier, I was your daily housewife and mom of three-- 2 kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My other half, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and probably never ever 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 dullness and made me what I am today. I easily admit I am a sex addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and unclean, unclean and disgusting . In fantasy, I desired everyone to know the new me. In reality, I didn't want to promote 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 addiction will lead, however doesn't desire help. The dangers outweighed the consequences because the sex was that excellent. 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 very first conference. Her spouse is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had nothing in typical.

I 'd never ever heard such shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking kids, dads raping young daughters, ladies having sex with animals, mothers seeing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, other halves handling troops of randy guys, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little women. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were constantly about somebody she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I discovered especially disturbing was that her repellent dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an invading infection, pushing my simple, fairly clean daydreams 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 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.

We didn't constantly sit for stories. The majority of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, providing me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothing a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe manager. I accepted her and used what she chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, throwing out every set of trousers I owned. I used just brief gowns at Staci's persistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. My boring life ended when I concerned accept my role as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female kind. I have actually constantly thought of myself as being too short, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I believed of the female genitalia as a nasty crack next to a shit hole. She encouraged me I was stunning to the extreme, specifically in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfy even when suffering before her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began with a scented douche and included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, but hiding the result from my hubby was difficult. 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 recommendation. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the type of man that resides in worry of his wife unfaithful on him. I will not have you followed. I will not question your activities or the method you dress. I will not snoop or ask concerns. You can go and come 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 positive or catch you in the act. That was it. I merely nodded my understanding, however I didn't rather understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do precisely. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a female. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could just envision what wanting I 'd never ever been born entailed. Max is a big male, a man of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, however the idea never left my mind. I thought he may require me to undergo 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 good laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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