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3 months earlier, I was your everyday homemaker and mother of 3-- 2 boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl 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 boring to the extreme. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. I freely admit I am a sex junkie, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and unclean, unclean and horrible . In dream, I desired everybody to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't want to advertise that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the addict that knows where the addiction will lead, however does not desire help. The threats outweighed the effects since the sex was that great. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, learnt more about me, inside and out, then started her professional manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a long and hard one for me, however absolutely nothing beneficial comes easy as my daddy would state. Eight months of patient prodding has actually settled for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our first meeting. Her hubby is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had nothing in typical.

I 'd never ever heard such shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking kids, fathers raping young daughters, females making love with animals, moms enjoying dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, partners handling troops of randy males, 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 siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. I seemed like I had to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were always about someone she knew or found out about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. I felt like she was merely thinking out loud, and I believed she was a extremely sick lady. What I discovered particularly disturbing was that her repellent fantasies worked their method into my tame fantasies like an getting into virus, pushing my basic, reasonably clean musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the featured performer. I stopped my month-to-month 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, throughout the house. After six months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.

Many of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, providing me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We went shopping for clothing a excellent deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet supervisor. I used just short dresses at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female kind. She convinced me I was lovely to the severe, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfortable even when languishing prior to her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina 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 comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, but concealing the result from my partner was impossible. 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 remember being incensed at the mere tip. This time, I listened diligently as he said, Theresa, I'm not the kind of man that lives in fear of his wife unfaithful on him. I won't have you followed. I won't question your activities or the way you dress. I won't sleuth or ask concerns. You can go and come as you please. If I ever learn that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence positive or catch you in the act, I'll make you want you had never been born. That was it. I merely nodded my understanding, but I didn't quite comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a lady. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I might just envision what wanting I 'd never ever been born involved. Max is a huge male, a man of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, but the thought never ever left my mind. I believed he may force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Perhaps, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. 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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