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3 months ago, I was your daily homemaker and mother of three-- 2 young 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 across the street from Staci and Joe.
The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. I easily confess I am a sex addict, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and unclean, unclean and disgusting .
In dream, I wanted everyone to know the new me. In reality, I didn't want to advertise 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 dependency will lead, however doesn't desire assistance. I feared my sexual dependency would virtually ruin my marriage. I 'd lose my children and perhaps end up in prison. I could not help that. Since the sex was that good, the dangers outweighed the repercussions. I like Staci for what she's done. 8 months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her husband is a police detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common. I discovered her rather dull and one dimensional. She's likewise rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a tubby face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am working on my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language godawful. In blended company, I laughed uncomfortably at her unrefined jokes, but the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.
I 'd never ever heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking children, dads raping young children, ladies making love with animals, mothers enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, partners handling soldiers of horny men, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs 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 constantly about someone she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found especially troubling was that her repellent fantasies worked their way into my tame fantasies like an invading infection, pressing my easy, reasonably tidy daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the included entertainer. I stopped my month-to-month practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and started a everyday session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your home. After six months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.
Many of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, offering me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We went shopping for clothes a excellent offer, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I wore just short dresses at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female type. I have always considered myself as being too brief, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I believed of the female genitalia as a nasty fracture next to a shit hole. She convinced me I was beautiful to the severe, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfortable even when suffering prior to 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 fragrant douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, however hiding 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 warned me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the mere suggestion. This time, I listened diligently as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the kind of man that resides in worry of his better half unfaithful 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 reoccur as you please. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. I'll make you wish you had actually never ever been born if I ever get evidence favorable or catch you in the act. He had never threatened me with divorce. I might just envision what wishing I 'd never ever been born required. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, however the thought never left my mind. I thought he may require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that launched Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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