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Three months earlier, I was your everyday housewife and mother of three-- 2 young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and probably never would have had we not moved across the street from Staci and Joe.
Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off.
In fantasy, I wanted everyone 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 resembled the addict that understands where the dependency will lead, however does not desire assistance. I feared my sexual addiction would essentially ruin my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and perhaps wind up in prison. I could not help that. The risks surpassed the effects because the sex was that excellent. I like Staci for what she's done. 8 months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her hubby is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common. In fact, I found her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a pudgy face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am working on my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language godawful. In combined business, I laughed uncomfortably at her crude jokes, however the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.
I 'd never heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking children, fathers raping young children, ladies having sex with animals, mothers seeing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, wives handling soldiers of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, 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. Her stories were always about someone she knew or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I discovered especially troubling was that her vile dreams worked their method into my tame fantasies like an attacking virus, pressing my easy, reasonably tidy visions of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured 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, throughout your home. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head.
Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We went shopping for clothing a great deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet manager. I used only short dresses at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female type. She convinced me I was gorgeous to the extreme, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfy even when languishing prior to her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began with a aromatic douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a extensive 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 very first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max warned me not to cheat. I keep in mind being incensed at the mere suggestion. This time, I listened diligently as he said, 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 way you dress. I will not snoop or ask concerns. You can come and go as you please. , if I ever find out that you cheated on me.. If I ever get evidence favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you want you had actually never been born. That was it. I simply nodded my understanding, however I didn't rather understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a woman. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I could just envision what wanting I 'd never been born involved. Max is a big man, a man of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, but the idea never left my mind. I thought he might force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that launched Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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