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Three months earlier, I was your daily housewife and mom of three-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and probably never would have had we not moved throughout the street from Staci and Joe. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. Sex is all I believe about, and no perversion turns me off. In dream, I desired everyone to understand 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 junkie that knows where the addiction will lead, but does not want aid. I feared my sexual dependency would essentially damage my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and perhaps wind up in prison. I could not help that. Since the sex was that excellent, the risks exceeded the repercussions. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then started her expert adjustments that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a long and tough one for me, but absolutely nothing beneficial comes easy as my daddy would say. Eight months of client prodding has actually settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first meeting. Her partner is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common. I found her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a tubby 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 atrocious. In combined business, I laughed uneasily at her crude jokes, however the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never heard such stunning and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking kids, fathers raping young children, ladies making love with animals, moms enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, wives handling soldiers of horny men, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little girls. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck to Staci. I felt like I had to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were always about somebody she understood or found out about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I felt like she was just thinking aloud, and I thought she was a very sick woman. What I discovered particularly troubling was that her vile dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an invading virus, pushing my basic, fairly clean daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the featured performer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and started a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in the house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I learned 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 give it a try. I almost broke my back in the attempt, however a easy 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, offering me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We bought clothing a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet supervisor. I accepted her and used what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, throwing out every set of trousers I owned. I used only brief gowns at Staci's persistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll, my dull life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female form. I have actually constantly thought about myself as being too brief, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Moreover, I thought about the female genitalia as a nasty fracture beside a shit hole. She persuaded me I was beautiful to the severe, specifically in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfy even when languishing before 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 scented 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 husband was impossible. My first cunnicure prompted 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 suggestion. This time, I listened attentively as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the type of guy that lives in worry of his better half unfaithful on him. I will not have you followed. I will not question your activities or the way you dress. I won't sleuth or ask questions. You can go and come as you please. If I ever learn that you cheated on me. I'll make you want you had never been born if I ever get evidence favorable or capture you in the act. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I might only imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born required. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, but the thought never ever left my mind. I thought he may require me to undergo a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that launched Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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