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Three months ago, I was your daily housewife and mom of 3-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady 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.
Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. Sex is all I believe about, and no perversion turns me off.
In dream, I wanted everyone to understand 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 junkie that knows where the addiction will lead, but does not desire aid. I feared my sexual dependency would practically ruin my marriage. I 'd lose my children and perhaps wind up in prison. I couldn't assist that. The risks outweighed the repercussions due to the fact that the sex was that great. I enjoy 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 husband is a police detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common.
I 'd never heard such stunning and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking boys, daddies raping young children, women having sex with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, other halves taking on troops of randy males, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little women. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck to Staci. I felt like I had to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were constantly about someone she knew or found out about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I seemed like she was merely daydreaming out loud, and I believed she was a really sick woman. What I found particularly disturbing was that her repellent fantasies worked their way into my tame dreams like an invading infection, pressing my easy, relatively clean musings of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and started a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your home. After six months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head.
We didn't always sit for stories. Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, giving me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We looked for clothes a lot, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe manager. I deferred to her and wore what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, throwing out every set of trousers I owned. I wore only brief gowns at Staci's persistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll, my dull life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female kind. I have constantly thought of myself as being too short, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Moreover, I considered the female genitalia as a nasty crack next to a shit hole. She encouraged me I was beautiful to the severe, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfortable 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 aromatic douche and included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, however concealing the result from my husband was impossible. 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 remember being incensed at the mere recommendation. This time, I listened attentively as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the kind of guy that resides in fear of his other half cheating 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 questions. You can come and go as you please. , if I ever discover out that you cheated on me.. I'll make you want you had actually never ever been born if I ever get proof positive or catch you in the act. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could just picture what wanting I 'd never been born required. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, but the thought never left my mind. I thought he might force me to go through a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a excellent 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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