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3 months earlier, I was your everyday homemaker and mom of three-- two young boys, 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 boredom 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 know the new me. In reality, I didn't wish to promote that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the addict that understands where the addiction will lead, however doesn't want help. The risks exceeded the repercussions because the sex was that good. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then began her specialist controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a long and difficult one for me, but absolutely nothing worthwhile comes easy as my daddy would state. 8 months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her husband is a police detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common. In fact, I discovered her rather dull and one dimensional. She's likewise rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a chubby face. She left of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language godawful. In mixed company, I chuckled uncomfortably at her crude jokes, but the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never heard such shocking and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, dads raping young children, women having sex with animals, mothers watching dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, partners taking on troops of horny males, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck with Staci. I felt like I needed to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were always about someone she knew or found out about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. I seemed like she was merely daydreaming out loud, and I believed she was a extremely ill female. What I discovered particularly troubling was that her repellent fantasies worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking virus, pushing my easy, reasonably clean visions of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my monthly 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 the house. After six months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept 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 offer it a whirl. I almost broke my back in the effort, but a simple 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 cosmetics, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We shopped for clothes a fantastic offer, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet supervisor. I wore only brief gowns at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female kind. She convinced me I was lovely to the extreme, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfortable even when languishing before her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area version 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 extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, but hiding the arise from my hubby was impossible. My very first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max cautioned me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the mere suggestion. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the type of man that resides in fear of his wife unfaithful on him. I won't have you followed. I won't question your activities or the way you dress. I will not snoop or ask questions. You can come and go as you please. If I ever find out 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. That was it. I merely nodded my understanding, however I didn't quite comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a female. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I might only envision what wishing I 'd never ever been born required. Max is a huge male, a man of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, however the thought never left my mind. I thought he might force me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Perhaps, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He might fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a great make fun of the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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