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Three months ago, I was your daily housewife and mom of three-- 2 kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady 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 dullness and made me what I am today. I easily confess I am a sex junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and unclean, disgusting and unclean . In fantasy, I desired everyone to know the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want to promote 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 does not want help. The risks exceeded the consequences due to the fact that the sex was that good. I like Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, got to know me, inside and out, then began her specialist manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a tough and long one for me, however absolutely nothing worthwhile comes easy as my father would say. Eight months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her spouse is a police detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in typical.

I 'd never ever heard such stunning and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking boys, dads raping young daughters, women making love with animals, mothers viewing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, spouses handling soldiers of horny 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 brothers, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about somebody 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 fantasies like an attacking virus, pushing my simple, fairly tidy daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the featured performer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and started a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in your home. After six months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept 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 whirl. I almost broke my back in the effort, however a easy self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush handle was no longer enough.

We didn't constantly sit for stories. Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, providing me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We bought clothes a lot, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet supervisor. I deferred to her and wore what she chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, tossing out every pair of pants I owned. I used only brief gowns at Staci's insistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll, my uninteresting life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female type. She encouraged me I was beautiful to the severe, specifically between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfy even when languishing before her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area version 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 arise from my other half was impossible. My first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max warned me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the simple recommendation. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the kind of guy that resides in worry of his wife 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 go and come as you please. , if I ever discover out that you cheated on me.. I'll make you want you had actually never been born if I ever get evidence positive or capture you in the act. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I might only envision what wishing I 'd never ever been born involved. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, but the thought never ever left my mind. I thought he might require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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