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Three months back, I was your everyday homemaker and mom of 3-- 2 young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl 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 think about, and no perversion turns me off. In fantasy, I desired everybody to understand the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't wish to advertise that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the junkie that knows where the addiction will lead, but doesn't want help. I feared my sexual addiction would essentially destroy my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and possibly wind up in prison. I could not help that. Since the sex was that good, the risks outweighed the consequences. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, learnt more about me, inside and out, then started her expert manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a long and challenging one for me, however absolutely nothing beneficial comes easy as my father would say. 8 months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her hubby is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common. I discovered her rather dull and one dimensional. She's likewise 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 mixed 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 horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, daddies raping young daughters, females making love with animals, mothers viewing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, better halves handling troops of horny guys, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little girls. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about someone she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I discovered especially disturbing was that her vile fantasies worked their way into my tame fantasies like an attacking virus, pressing my simple, relatively tidy musings 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, anywhere in the house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea 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 give it a whirl. I almost broke my back in the attempt, however a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush deal with was no longer enough.

We didn't always sit for stories. Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We looked for clothing a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I deferred to 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 dull life ended when I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female type. I have actually constantly thought of myself as being too brief, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Additionally, I considered the female genitalia as a nasty crack next to a shit hole. She encouraged me I was beautiful to the severe, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfy even when suffering 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 began with a fragrant 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 arise from my other half was impossible. My very first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max warned me not to cheat. I keep in mind being incensed at the mere recommendation. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the kind of guy that resides in worry of his other half unfaithful on him. I will not have you followed. I will not question your activities or the method you dress. I won't snoop or ask concerns. You can reoccur as you please. If I ever discover that you cheated on me. I'll make you wish you had never been born if I ever get proof favorable or capture you in the act. That was it. I merely nodded my understanding, but I didn't quite understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do precisely. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a woman. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I might only envision what wishing I 'd never been born involved. Max is a big guy, a guy of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, however the idea never left my mind. I believed he may require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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