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Three months earlier, I was your daily housewife and mom of three-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. My spouse, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's workplace. 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 once 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 addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and filthy, revolting and dirty . In dream, I wanted everyone to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't want to advertise 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 dependency will lead, but does not desire assistance. I feared my sexual dependency would essentially ruin my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and potentially end up in prison. I couldn't assist that. Because the sex was that good, the dangers outweighed the effects. I love 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 police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in typical.

I 'd never heard such shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking children, dads raping young children, ladies making love with animals, mothers seeing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, spouses taking on 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. I seemed like I had to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were always about somebody she understood or found out about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. I seemed like she was just thinking out loud, and I believed she was a extremely ill female. What I discovered especially disturbing was that her disgusting dreams worked their method into my tame dreams like an attacking virus, pushing my basic, reasonably clean daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the included 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 home. After six months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept 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 offer it a whirl. I almost broke my back in the effort, however a basic self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush manage was no longer enough.

Many of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, giving me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothes a excellent deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I used just brief gowns at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female type. I have always thought of myself as being too brief, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I thought of the female genitalia as a nasty crack next to a shit hole. She persuaded me I was stunning to the extreme, particularly in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfortable even when languishing prior to her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a scented 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 result from my hubby was difficult. My very first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max warned me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the simple suggestion. This time, I listened attentively as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the type of male that resides in fear of his other half 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 reoccur as you please. If I ever discover that you cheated on me. I'll make you want you had never been born if I ever get evidence favorable or catch you in the act. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I might only picture what wishing I 'd never ever been born involved. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, however the idea never left my mind. I thought he might require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to start me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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