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Three months ago, I was your daily homemaker and mother of 3-- 2 young boys, 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 across the street from Staci and Joe. The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. I freely confess I am a sex addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and dirty, dirty and disgusting . In dream, 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 addict that understands where the dependency will lead, but does not desire assistance. The dangers surpassed the repercussions since the sex was that good. I love Staci for what she's done. Eight months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first meeting. Her spouse is a cops detective, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common.

I 'd never heard such shocking and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking boys, fathers raping young children, ladies having sex with animals, mothers watching dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, better halves taking on soldiers of horny men, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little women. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck to Staci. I felt 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 knew or became aware of, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I felt like she was merely thinking aloud, and I thought she was a extremely ill woman. What I found particularly troubling was that her vile fantasies worked their method into my tame fantasies like an invading virus, pushing my simple, relatively clean daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my month-to-month 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, throughout your home. After six months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head.

Many of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, offering me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We went shopping for clothes a fantastic offer, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I used only short gowns at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female form. She persuaded me I was beautiful to the extreme, particularly in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfy even when suffering before her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began with a aromatic douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, however hiding the arise from my other half was difficult. My first cunnicure prompted 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 idea. This time, I listened attentively as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the type of man that resides in fear of his better half 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 learn that you cheated on me. I'll make you wish you had never been born if I ever get evidence favorable or catch you in the act. That was it. I simply nodded my understanding, however I didn't quite comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a female. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could just picture what wanting I 'd never been born required. Max is a big male, a male of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, however the thought never left my mind. I believed he may require me to go through a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to begin me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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