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Three months ago, I was your daily housewife and mom of three-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman 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 housewife with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. I freely confess 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, horrible and filthy . In dream, I wanted everyone to know the 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 junkie that understands where the dependency will lead, but doesn't desire help. I feared my sexual addiction would practically destroy my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and perhaps wind up in prison. I couldn't assist that. The threats surpassed the effects since the sex was that excellent. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then began her specialist manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a difficult and long one for me, however absolutely nothing worthwhile comes easy as my father would state. 8 months of client prodding has actually settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first meeting. Her spouse is a police detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common. I discovered her rather dull and one dimensional. She's likewise rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a chubby face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language atrocious. In mixed business, I laughed uneasily at her crude jokes, however the stories she informed me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never ever heard such stunning and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking boys, fathers raping young children, ladies making love with animals, moms enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, spouses handling soldiers of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were constantly about somebody she knew or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I discovered especially disturbing was that her vile dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an invading infection, pushing my easy, reasonably clean visions of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, typically with me as the featured 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, anywhere in your home. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head also. She informed 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 nearly broke my back in the attempt, however a easy self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush deal with was no longer enough.

We didn't always sit for stories. The majority of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, providing 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 supervisor. I accepted her and wore what she chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, throwing out every set of pants I owned. I used only short gowns at Staci's insistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my function as a living Barbie Doll, my uninteresting life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female type. She encouraged me I was stunning to the extreme, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfortable even when suffering 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 fragrant douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, however concealing the arise from my hubby was difficult. My very first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max alerted me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the mere tip. This time, I listened diligently as he said, Theresa, I'm not the type of man that resides in worry of his wife cheating 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 questions. You can go and come as you please. If I ever learn that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence favorable or capture you in the act, I'll make you want you had actually never been born. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could just imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born involved. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, however the thought never ever left my mind. I thought he may require me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to begin me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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