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3 months earlier, I was your everyday homemaker and mom of three-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and probably never ever 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 think about, and no perversion turns me off. In fantasy, I desired everybody 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 resembled the addict that knows where the addiction will lead, but doesn't want aid. I feared my sexual dependency would virtually destroy my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and possibly wind up in prison. I couldn't help that. Because the sex was that great, the risks exceeded the consequences. I love Staci for what she's done. 8 months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her spouse is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common. In fact, I discovered 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 working on my masters in English. I discovered 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 told me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking boys, daddies raping young daughters, women having sex with animals, moms viewing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, better halves handling soldiers of randy guys, blacks on whites, old with young, canines on little women. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about somebody she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I found particularly disturbing was that her vile dreams worked their method into my tame fantasies like an getting into virus, pressing my basic, relatively tidy visions of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured performer. I stopped my month-to-month practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing 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 found out 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 provide it a whirl. I nearly broke my back in the attempt, but a easy self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush manage was no longer enough.

We didn't constantly sit for stories. Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We bought clothes a lot, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I accepted her and wore what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, throwing out every set of pants I owned. I used only brief dresses at Staci's persistence. 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 best female form. She convinced me I was gorgeous to the extreme, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfy even when languishing 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 began 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, however concealing the result from my husband was difficult. 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 simple suggestion. This time, I listened diligently as he said, Theresa, I'm not the type of guy that resides in fear of his partner cheating on him. I won't have you followed. I will not question your activities or the method you dress. I will not sleuth or ask questions. You can go and come as you please. , if I ever discover out that you cheated on me.. I'll make you want you had never been born if I ever get proof favorable or catch you in the act. That was it. I simply nodded my understanding, however I didn't quite comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do precisely. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a woman. He had never threatened me with divorce. I might only imagine what wanting I 'd never ever been born required. Max is a huge guy, a man of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, however the idea never left my mind. I thought he may force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that launched Staci's crusade to begin me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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