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Three months ago, I was your daily housewife and mother of 3-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady 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 boring to the extreme. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. I easily admit I am a sex addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and unclean, filthy and disgusting . In dream, I wanted everyone to know the brand-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 was like the addict that knows where the addiction will lead, but does not want assistance. I feared my sexual dependency would practically destroy my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and potentially end up in prison. I couldn't assist that. The dangers surpassed the consequences because the sex was that good. I like Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, got to know me, inside and out, then started her expert manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a challenging and long one for me, however nothing beneficial comes easy as my dad would say. 8 months of client prodding has actually settled for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our first conference. Her husband is a cops detective, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had nothing in typical.

I 'd never heard such shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking kids, daddies raping young daughters, women having sex with animals, moms enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, spouses taking on soldiers of randy males, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about someone she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I discovered particularly troubling was that her disgusting dreams worked their method into my tame fantasies like an invading infection, pushing my easy, fairly tidy visions of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the included performer. I stopped my month-to-month practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and began a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in the house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head as well. She told me a story about a female gymnast with a hunger for her own pussy. Being an ex-gymnast and volunteer cheerleading coach, I figured I 'd provide it a try. I nearly broke my back in the attempt, but a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush manage was no longer enough.

We didn't always sit for stories. Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We purchased clothes a lot, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I deferred to her and wore what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, tossing out every pair of pants I owned. I wore just brief gowns at Staci's persistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll, my boring life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female kind. She convinced me I was beautiful to the severe, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfortable even when languishing prior to her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina 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 comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, but concealing the arise from my hubby was difficult. My very first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max cautioned me not to cheat. I keep in mind being incensed at the simple tip. This time, I listened diligently as he said, Theresa, I'm not the type of man that resides in worry of his partner cheating on him. I will not have you followed. I will not question your activities or the method you dress. I will not snoop or ask questions. You can go and come as you please. , if I ever find out that you cheated on me.. If I ever get evidence positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never been born. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I might only picture what wanting I 'd never been born entailed. I seriously questioned he would physically damage me, but the thought never ever left my mind. I thought he might force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Maybe, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a great make fun of the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that released Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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