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3 months ago, I was your everyday housewife and mother of 3-- 2 kids, 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.
The life of a housewife with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. I freely confess I am a sex junkie, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and unclean, revolting and dirty .
In fantasy, I desired everyone to know the new me. In reality, I didn't want to promote that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.
I was like the junkie that understands where the dependency will lead, but doesn't desire assistance. The risks exceeded the consequences due to the fact that the sex was that excellent. I like Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, learnt more about me, inside and out, then started her specialist manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a tough and long one for me, however nothing rewarding comes easy as my daddy would state. 8 months of patient prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her hubby is a cops detective, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in typical.
I 'd never ever heard such stunning and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking boys, dads raping young children, ladies having sex with animals, moms watching dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, partners handling soldiers of randy males, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were constantly about somebody she knew or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found especially troubling was that her repellent fantasies worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking virus, pushing my easy, fairly clean daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often 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 learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head also. She informed 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 handle was no longer enough.
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, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We looked for clothing a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet supervisor. I deferred to her and used what she chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, throwing out every set of trousers I owned. I used just 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 boring life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female type. I have always considered myself as being too short, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I thought of the female genitalia as a nasty crack next to a shit hole. She encouraged me I was gorgeous to the severe, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfy even when languishing before her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area variation 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 perfume. I liked her manicures, however hiding the result from my hubby 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 alerted me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the mere suggestion. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the kind of man that lives in worry of his spouse cheating on him. I will not have you followed. I will not 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 find out that you cheated on me.. I'll make you wish you had never ever been born if I ever get evidence favorable or catch you in the act. That was it. I merely 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 lady. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could only imagine what wishing I 'd never been born involved. Max is a huge guy, a guy of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically hurt me, however the idea never ever left my mind. I thought he may require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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