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Three months ago, I was your daily homemaker and mom of 3-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and probably never ever would have had we not moved across the street from Staci and Joe. The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is boring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. I freely admit I am a sex junkie, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and filthy, disgusting and dirty . In fantasy, I wanted everyone to understand the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't wish to advertise that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I resembled the junkie that knows where the addiction will lead, but doesn't want help. I feared my sexual addiction would essentially damage my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and possibly end up in prison. I couldn't help that. The dangers outweighed the effects because the sex was that good. I love Staci for what she's done. 8 months of client prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first meeting. Her other half is a police 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 chubby face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am working on my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language godawful. In blended company, I chuckled uncomfortably at her crude jokes, however the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never heard such shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, fathers raping young children, women having sex with animals, mothers watching dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, better halves handling troops of randy males, blacks on whites, old with young, canines 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 with Staci. Her stories were constantly about someone she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I discovered especially disturbing was that her repellent dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking infection, pushing my easy, relatively tidy musings of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the included performer. I stopped my month-to-month practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and began a daily 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 too. 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 try. I almost broke my back in the attempt, but a basic self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush manage was no longer enough.

Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, giving me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We went shopping for clothing a great deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I used just brief dresses at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female type. I have actually constantly considered myself as being too short, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Furthermore, I thought about the female genitalia as a nasty crack beside a shit hole. She persuaded me I was stunning to the extreme, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfortable even when suffering prior to her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area 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 extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, but hiding the arise from my husband was impossible. 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 keep in mind being incensed at the mere tip. This time, I listened diligently as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the type of guy that lives in fear of his other half cheating on him. I won't have you followed. I won't question your activities or the way you dress. I won't snoop or ask concerns. You can reoccur as you please. , if I ever find out that you cheated on me.. I'll make you want you had actually never ever been born if I ever get proof favorable or capture you in the act. That was it. I just nodded my understanding, however I didn't quite comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do precisely. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a female. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I could just imagine what wanting I 'd never ever been born entailed. Max is a huge male, a guy of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, but the thought never left my mind. I believed 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 excellent laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that launched Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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