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Three months ago, I was your everyday housewife and mom of 3-- 2 boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and probably never would have had we not moved throughout the street from Staci and Joe.
The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is boring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. I freely admit I am a sex junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and unclean, revolting and filthy .
In fantasy, I wanted everyone to understand 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 knows where the dependency will lead, but does not want assistance. The threats surpassed the repercussions because the sex was that great. I like Staci for what she's done. Eight months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our first conference. Her partner is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common.
I 'd never heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, daddies raping young daughters, ladies having sex with animals, mothers viewing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, better halves taking on soldiers of horny guys, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little women. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about somebody she knew or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I discovered particularly troubling was that her vile fantasies worked their method into my tame fantasies like an attacking infection, pushing my simple, reasonably clean visions of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, often with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and started a day-to-day 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 idea in my head. 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 provide it a whirl. I almost broke my back in the effort, but a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush handle was no longer enough.
Many 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 went shopping for clothing a fantastic offer, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet supervisor. I wore only short dresses at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female type. I have actually always thought of myself as being too short, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I believed of the female genitalia as a nasty fracture next to a shit hole. She persuaded me I was gorgeous to the extreme, specifically between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfy even when suffering before her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a scented douche and included 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 impossible. My very first cunnicure triggered 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 tip. This time, I listened diligently as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the kind of guy that resides in worry of his wife unfaithful on him. I will not have you followed. I will not 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 discover that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you want you had actually never ever been born. That was it. I simply nodded my understanding, however I didn't quite understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do precisely. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a lady. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I might only envision what wishing I 'd never ever been born involved. Max is a huge male, a male of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, however the idea never left my mind. I believed he might 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 released Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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