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3 months ago, I was your daily housewife and mother of 3-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and most likely never ever would have had we not moved throughout the street from Staci and Joe. 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 confess I am a sex addict, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and unclean, filthy and revolting . In fantasy, I desired everybody to understand the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't wish to market 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 want help. The dangers surpassed the repercussions since the sex was that excellent. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, got to know me, inside and out, then began her expert controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a hard and long one for me, however absolutely nothing beneficial comes easy as my dad would state. Eight months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her hubby is a police detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common.

I 'd never ever heard such shocking and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking kids, dads raping young daughters, women making love with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, other halves taking on troops of randy 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 understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I discovered especially troubling was that her vile dreams worked their method into my tame fantasies like an attacking virus, pushing my easy, relatively tidy visions of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, often with me as the featured performer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and began a everyday session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout the house. After six months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head.

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 went shopping for clothing a excellent deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I wore just short dresses at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female form. She encouraged me I was beautiful to the extreme, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfortable even when languishing before her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began with a aromatic douche and included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, but hiding the result from my husband was impossible. My first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max alerted me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the mere recommendation. This time, I listened diligently as he said, Theresa, I'm not the kind of man that lives in worry of his partner unfaithful on him. I will not have you followed. I won't question your activities or the method you dress. I will not sleuth or ask concerns. You can reoccur as you please. , if I ever discover out that you cheated on me.. I'll make you wish you had actually never ever been born if I ever get proof positive or capture you in the act. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could just imagine what wishing I 'd never been born required. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, however the idea never ever left my mind. I believed he might require me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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