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3 months back, I was your daily housewife and mom of three-- 2 boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and most likely never ever would have had we not moved throughout 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 freely admit I am a sex junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and filthy, revolting and filthy .
In dream, I wanted everybody to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't want 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 knows where the addiction will lead, however doesn't want assistance. I feared my sexual addiction would virtually ruin my marriage. I 'd lose my children and possibly end up in prison. I could not help that. Because the sex was that good, the risks outweighed the effects. I love Staci for what she's done. Eight months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first meeting. Her husband is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in typical.
I 'd never heard such shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking boys, fathers raping young daughters, ladies making love with animals, moms watching dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, wives taking on soldiers of randy males, blacks on whites, old with young, 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 understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I found particularly disturbing was that her disgusting fantasies worked their method into my tame dreams like an invading virus, pushing my simple, relatively tidy daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured performer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and began a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your house. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.
Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, offering me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We went shopping for clothes a fantastic offer, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe manager. I used only brief gowns at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female type. I have actually always considered myself as being too brief, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Moreover, I thought of the female genitalia as a nasty fracture next to a shit hole. She encouraged me I was gorgeous to the severe, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfortable even when languishing before her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a fragrant 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, however hiding the result from my spouse 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 remember being incensed at the simple tip. This time, I listened diligently as he said, Theresa, I'm not the kind of man that lives in worry of his spouse unfaithful on him. I will not have you followed. I will not question your activities or the way you dress. I will not snoop or ask concerns. You can go and come as you please. , if I ever discover out that you cheated on me.. If I ever get evidence favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had actually never been born. That was it. I just nodded my understanding, however I didn't quite understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a woman. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could only imagine what wishing I 'd never been born entailed. Max is a big guy, a man of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, but the idea never ever left my mind. I thought he may require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Maybe, 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 released Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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