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3 months ago, I was your everyday housewife and mother of 3-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and most likely never ever would have had we not moved across the street from Staci and Joe. The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. I easily confess I am a sex junkie, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and unclean, filthy and revolting . In dream, I wanted everybody to know the new me. In reality, I didn't wish to promote 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 doesn't want aid. I feared my sexual dependency would virtually destroy my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and potentially wind up in prison. I couldn't help that. The risks surpassed the repercussions since the sex was that great. I like Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then began her professional controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a difficult and long one for me, however nothing beneficial comes easy as my daddy would say. 8 months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our first meeting. Her hubby is a cops detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in typical.

I 'd never ever heard such stunning and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking boys, daddies raping young children, ladies having sex with animals, mothers watching dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, wives taking on soldiers of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little girls. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were constantly about somebody she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I discovered particularly disturbing was that her vile dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an attacking infection, pushing my basic, reasonably clean musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and started a everyday session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your home. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.

Many of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We went shopping for clothes a excellent offer, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe manager. I used only short gowns at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female kind. She persuaded me I was beautiful to the extreme, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfy even when suffering prior to her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began 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 fragrance. I liked her manicures, but concealing the result from my other half was difficult. 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 simple tip. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the type of male that resides in fear of his wife cheating on him. I won't have you followed. I will not question your activities or the method you dress. I won't snoop or ask concerns. You can reoccur as you please. If I ever discover that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence favorable or capture you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never been born. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I could just picture what wanting I 'd never ever been born required. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, but the idea never left my mind. I thought he might require me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that launched Staci's crusade to start me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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