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3 months ago, I was your daily homemaker and mother of 3-- 2 kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and most likely never 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 dullness and made me what I am today. I freely confess I am a sex junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and filthy, disgusting and filthy .
In fantasy, I wanted everybody to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't wish to market that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.
I was like the addict that understands where the addiction will lead, but does not want help. The risks exceeded the consequences 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 specialist adjustments that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a difficult and long one for me, however nothing worthwhile comes easy as my daddy would say. Eight months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our first conference. Her spouse is a cops 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 chubby face. She left of high school, whereas I am working on my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language godawful. In combined business, I chuckled uncomfortably at her crude jokes, however the stories she informed me when we were alone left me speechless.
I 'd never ever heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking kids, daddies raping young daughters, females making love with animals, moms viewing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, partners handling soldiers of horny males, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about somebody she knew or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I found especially disturbing was that her repellent dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an attacking virus, pushing my easy, fairly clean visions of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, typically with me as the included performer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and started a everyday session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in your house. After six months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head.
We didn't constantly sit for stories. Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, offering me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We bought clothing a great deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe manager. I accepted her and wore what she chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, throwing out every pair of trousers I owned. I used just brief gowns at Staci's insistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll, my uninteresting life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female type. I have actually constantly thought about myself as being too short, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. In addition, I considered the female genitalia as a nasty fracture beside a shit hole. She convinced me I was stunning to the severe, particularly in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfortable even when languishing before 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 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, however concealing the arise from my partner was difficult. My first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max cautioned me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the simple recommendation. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the kind of guy that resides in worry of his partner 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 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 want you had actually never been born. That was it. I simply nodded my understanding, but I didn't quite understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do precisely. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a female. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could just picture what wanting I 'd never been born entailed. Max is a big man, a man of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically hurt me, but the idea never left my mind. I believed he might require me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Possibly, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He might fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a great make fun of the possibilities, but 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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