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3 months earlier, I was your daily homemaker and mother of three-- 2 kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My husband, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's workplace. 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 as soon as a month, I felt guilty.
The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is boring to the extreme. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. I easily admit I am a sex junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and dirty, revolting and dirty .
In dream, I wanted everybody to know the brand-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 addict that knows where the addiction will lead, but does not want assistance. The threats surpassed the consequences because the sex was that good. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, got to know me, inside and out, then started her professional manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a challenging and long one for me, however nothing rewarding comes easy as my father would say. Eight months of client prodding has actually settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first meeting. Her husband 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 shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, fathers raping young children, women making love with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, better halves handling troops of horny guys, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little women. 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 knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I discovered particularly disturbing was that her vile fantasies worked their method into my tame dreams like an invading virus, pushing my basic, fairly tidy daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured performer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and started a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your house. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.
We didn't always 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, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We looked for clothes a good deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe manager. I deferred to her and used what she chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, tossing out every set of pants I owned. I used only brief dresses at Staci's persistence. 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 perfect female form. She convinced me I was beautiful to the extreme, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfy even when languishing 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 fragrant douche and included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a thorough 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 prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max alerted me not to cheat. I keep in mind being incensed at the simple tip. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the kind of male 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 method you dress. I will not sleuth 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 been born if I ever get evidence positive or capture you in the act. That was it. I just nodded my understanding, however I didn't quite understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a woman. He had never threatened me with divorce. I might only picture what wanting I 'd never been born entailed. Max is a big man, a male of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, but the thought never ever left my mind. I thought he may force me to go through a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.
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