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3 months back, I was your everyday housewife and mother of 3-- 2 boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and probably never would have had we not moved across the street from Staci and Joe. 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 freely confess I am a sex addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and filthy, horrible and unclean . In fantasy, I wanted everyone to know the 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 junkie that knows where the addiction will lead, but does not desire aid. I feared my sexual dependency would essentially destroy my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and perhaps end up in prison. I couldn't assist that. The dangers exceeded the consequences because the sex was that excellent. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. Eight months of client prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first meeting. Her husband is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common. I found her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a chubby face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am working on my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language atrocious. In mixed business, I laughed uneasily at her unrefined jokes, however the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never heard such stunning and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking boys, fathers raping young daughters, women making love with animals, moms enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, partners taking on soldiers of randy guys, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little girls. 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 ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I discovered particularly troubling was that her disgusting fantasies worked their way into my tame fantasies like an getting into infection, pressing my basic, fairly tidy daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, typically with me as the included performer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and began a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in your home. After six months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head also. She informed 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 practically broke my back in the effort, however a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush deal with was no longer enough.

We didn't always sit for stories. Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, giving me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We looked for clothing a good deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I deferred to her and used what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, tossing out every pair of pants I owned. I used only brief dresses at Staci's persistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. My dull life ended when I came to accept my function as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female kind. I have constantly thought about 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 severe, particularly in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfy even when suffering before her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began with a scented 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 hiding the arise from my partner was impossible. 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 keep in mind being incensed at the simple tip. This time, I listened attentively as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the kind of male that resides in worry of his spouse cheating on him. I will not have you followed. I will not question your activities or the method you dress. I won't snoop or ask concerns. You can go and come as you please. If I ever learn that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you want you had actually never ever been born. That was it. I merely nodded my understanding, but I didn't quite understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do precisely. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a female. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I could only imagine what wanting I 'd never been born entailed. Max is a huge man, a man of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, however the idea never ever 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 great make fun of the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that released Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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