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3 months earlier, I was your everyday homemaker and mother of 3-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and most likely 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 boring to the extreme. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. I easily confess I am a sex addict, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and filthy, filthy and revolting .
In dream, I wanted everybody to understand the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want to advertise that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.
I resembled the addict that knows where the dependency will lead, but does not want help. I feared my sexual dependency would virtually destroy my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and perhaps end up in prison. I couldn't help that. The dangers surpassed the consequences since 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 professional controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a long and hard one for me, however nothing beneficial comes easy as my father would state. Eight months of patient prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first meeting. Her other half is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had nothing in common.
I 'd never ever heard such shocking and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking children, fathers raping young daughters, women making love with animals, mothers enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, wives handling troops of horny 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 bros, so I was stuck with Staci. I seemed like I needed to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were always about someone she understood or found out about, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. I felt like she was just daydreaming out loud, and I thought she was a extremely sick woman. What I discovered particularly disturbing was that her vile dreams worked their method into my tame dreams like an invading infection, pushing my simple, fairly tidy musings of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and started a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout the house. 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 constantly sit for stories. 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 looked for clothes a great deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet supervisor. I accepted her and used what she chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, tossing out every pair of pants I owned. I used just short gowns at Staci's insistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. My boring life ended when I pertained to accept my function as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female form. She persuaded me I was lovely to the extreme, particularly in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfortable 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 extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, but hiding the arise from my spouse was difficult. My first cunnicure prompted 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 suggestion. This time, I listened diligently as he said, Theresa, I'm not the kind of male that resides in worry of his partner unfaithful on him. I will not have you followed. I will not question your activities or the method you dress. I won't snoop or ask questions. You can reoccur as you please. , if I ever find out that you cheated on me.. If I ever get proof favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never ever been born. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I could only envision what wanting I 'd never been born entailed. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, however the thought never left my mind. I thought he may force me to undergo a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that launched Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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