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Three months back, I was your daily housewife and mom of three-- two kids, 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 across the street from Staci and Joe. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. In fantasy, I wanted everyone to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't wish to promote that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I resembled the junkie that knows where the addiction will lead, but does not want assistance. I feared my sexual dependency would virtually destroy my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and potentially wind up in prison. I couldn't assist that. Because the sex was that good, the risks exceeded the effects. I like Staci for what she's done. 8 months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first meeting. Her hubby is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had nothing in typical.

I 'd never heard such shocking and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking boys, daddies raping young children, females making love with animals, mothers seeing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, better halves handling soldiers of randy males, blacks on whites, old with young, pets 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 to Staci. I felt like I needed to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were constantly about somebody she knew or became aware of, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. I felt like she was simply daydreaming out loud, and I believed she was a really ill female. What I discovered especially disturbing was that her repellent dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an invading infection, pushing my easy, reasonably clean daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the included performer. I stopped my month-to-month practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and began a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your home. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head.

We didn't always sit for stories. Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, offering me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We shopped for clothes a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe manager. I deferred to her and wore what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, tossing out every pair of trousers I owned. I wore only brief gowns at Staci's insistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. My uninteresting life ended when I pertained 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 kind. She convinced me I was beautiful to the extreme, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfy even when languishing prior to her with my legs broad 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 included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, but concealing the result 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 keep in mind being incensed at the simple idea. This time, I listened diligently as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the kind of guy that lives in fear of his spouse cheating on him. I won't have you followed. I will not question your activities or the way you dress. I won't snoop or ask questions. You can come and go as you please. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you want you had never been born. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could only picture what wanting I 'd never ever been born involved. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, however the idea never left my mind. I thought he might force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that launched Staci's crusade to start me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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