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3 months earlier, I was your everyday homemaker and mother of 3-- 2 kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady 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. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. Sex is all I believe about, and no perversion turns me off. In fantasy, I desired everybody to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't want to advertise that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I resembled the junkie that understands where the addiction will lead, however does not want assistance. I feared my sexual dependency would virtually damage my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and possibly end up in prison. I couldn't assist that. The dangers surpassed the effects since the sex was that great. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, learnt more about me, inside and out, then started her specialist adjustments that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a long and tough one for me, however absolutely nothing beneficial comes easy as my daddy would state. 8 months of patient prodding has actually settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her partner is a police investigator, 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 tubby face. She left of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language godawful. In blended company, I chuckled uneasily at her unrefined jokes, but the stories she informed me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never heard such stunning and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking boys, dads raping young children, females having sex with animals, mothers viewing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, spouses handling troops of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little women. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with 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 constantly about somebody she understood or became aware of, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I seemed like she was merely daydreaming out loud, and I thought she was a extremely ill woman. What I found especially troubling was that her vile dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking virus, pushing my simple, fairly clean daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw 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 began a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout the house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head as well. 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 nearly broke my back in the attempt, however a easy self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush manage was no longer enough.

We didn't always sit for stories. The majority of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, offering me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We purchased clothes a lot, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet supervisor. I accepted her and used what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, throwing 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 concerned accept my function as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female type. I have constantly considered myself as being too brief, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Additionally, I thought about the female genitalia as a nasty fracture next to a shit hole. She encouraged me I was lovely to the extreme, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfy even when languishing prior to her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a scented douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, however hiding the result from my hubby was difficult. My 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 mere tip. This time, I listened diligently as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the kind of man that lives in fear of his wife unfaithful on him. I won't have you followed. I won't question your activities or the method you dress. I won't snoop or ask questions. You can come and go as you please. If I ever discover that you cheated on me. I'll make you wish you had actually never been born if I ever get evidence favorable or catch you in the act. He had never threatened me with divorce. I might just envision what wanting I 'd never been born required. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, but the thought never left my mind. I believed he may require me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Possibly, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He might fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a excellent make fun of 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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