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Three months back, I was your everyday homemaker and mother of 3-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and most likely never would have had we not moved throughout the street from Staci and Joe.
The life of a housewife with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. I easily admit I am a sex junkie, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and dirty, unclean and revolting .
In dream, I wanted everybody to know the new me. In reality, I didn't want to market that fact, however 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 doesn't want help. The risks exceeded the effects because the sex was that great. I love Staci for what she's done. 8 months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first meeting. Her husband is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in typical.
I 'd never heard such stunning and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, dads raping young children, females having sex with animals, moms viewing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, wives handling troops of randy men, 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 had to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were always about somebody she understood or became aware of, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I felt like she was merely thinking out loud, and I thought she was a very ill woman. What I discovered particularly troubling was that her repellent fantasies worked their method into my tame dreams like an invading virus, pressing my basic, reasonably tidy musings of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, often with me as the featured performer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and started a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout the house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept 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 nearly broke my back in the effort, but a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush manage was no longer enough.
Many 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 continuously. We shopped for clothes a fantastic offer, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe manager. I wore just brief gowns at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female type. She persuaded me I was gorgeous to the extreme, specifically in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfortable even when languishing prior to her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina 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 fragrance. 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 marital relationship, Max warned me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the simple tip. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the type of guy that lives in fear of his partner 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 concerns. You can come and go as you please. , if I ever discover out that you cheated on me.. If I ever get evidence favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had actually never been born. That was it. I simply nodded my understanding, but I didn't quite comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do precisely. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a lady. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could just envision what wanting I 'd never been born required. Max is a huge guy, 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 ever left my mind. I thought he might force me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Maybe, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He might fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that released Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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