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3 months ago, I was your daily housewife and mom of 3-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My husband, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and most likely never ever 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 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 think about, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and dirty, revolting and unclean . In dream, I wanted everybody to understand 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 aid. I feared my sexual dependency would practically ruin my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and possibly end up in prison. I could not assist that. The threats surpassed the repercussions since the sex was that great. I like Staci for what she's done. 8 months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first meeting. Her spouse is a authorities detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in typical.

I 'd never heard such stunning and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking children, fathers raping young children, ladies making love with animals, mothers enjoying dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, wives taking on troops of randy males, 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 brothers, so I was stuck to Staci. I felt like I needed to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were always about someone she understood or became aware of, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. I seemed like she was just fantasizing out loud, and I believed she was a really sick female. What I discovered particularly troubling was that her vile dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking virus, pressing my simple, reasonably tidy 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 utilizing a water wand, and began 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 found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head. 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 whirl. I nearly broke my back in the effort, however a easy self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush manage 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, providing me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We purchased clothes a great deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe manager. I accepted her and used what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, tossing out every set of pants I owned. I wore only short dresses 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 boring 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 extreme, particularly in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfortable even when languishing 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 scented 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 arise from my husband was difficult. My very 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 mere tip. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the type of man that resides in worry of his partner unfaithful on him. I won't have you followed. I won't question your activities or the way you dress. I will not sleuth or ask concerns. You can go and come as you please. , if I ever discover out that you cheated on me.. I'll make you want you had actually never ever been born if I ever get proof positive or catch you in the act. That was it. I just nodded my understanding, however I didn't quite comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a female. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I might only picture what wishing I 'd never ever been born involved. Max is a huge man, a male of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, however the thought never left my mind. I believed he might require me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that launched Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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