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3 months earlier, I was your everyday homemaker and mother of 3-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and probably never 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 monotony and made me what I am today. I easily confess I am a sex addict, a slut, 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 desired everyone to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't wish to market that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I resembled the addict that understands where the addiction will lead, but does not desire aid. I feared my sexual dependency would essentially damage my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and potentially end up in prison. I could not assist that. Due to the fact that the sex was that good, the dangers surpassed the consequences. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then began her professional controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a tough and long one for me, but nothing worthwhile comes easy as my daddy would state. Eight months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our first conference. Her husband is a authorities detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common. In fact, I discovered her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a pudgy face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am working on my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language atrocious. In combined company, I chuckled uncomfortably at her unrefined jokes, however the stories she told 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, mom's fucking boys, daddies raping young daughters, women having sex with animals, moms enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, other halves handling troops of horny men, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little girls. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck to Staci. I seemed like I had to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were always about somebody she understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I seemed like she was merely thinking aloud, and I believed she was a really ill woman. What I discovered particularly disturbing was that her repellent fantasies worked their method into my tame fantasies like an getting into virus, pressing my basic, fairly tidy musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the included entertainer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and started a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in your house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head. 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 whirl. I nearly broke my back in the effort, however a basic self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush handle was no longer enough.

We didn't always sit for stories. Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We bought clothes a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I accepted her and wore what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, throwing out every set of trousers I owned. I used just brief gowns at Staci's insistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. My boring life ended when I concerned accept my function as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female kind. I have actually always thought of myself as being too short, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Furthermore, I thought of the female genitalia as a nasty fracture beside a shit hole. She encouraged me I was beautiful to the severe, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfortable even when languishing prior to her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started 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, however hiding the result from my husband was impossible. My 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 keep in mind being incensed at the mere suggestion. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the type of guy that resides in worry of his spouse unfaithful 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 questions. You can go and come as you please. If I ever discover that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you want you had actually never been born. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could only picture what wanting I 'd never ever been born entailed. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, but the idea never ever left my mind. I believed he might force 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 excellent laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that launched Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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