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3 months ago, I was your daily homemaker and mom of three-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and most likely never ever would have had we not moved across 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 of, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and filthy, unclean and horrible . In dream, I wanted everyone to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't wish to advertise that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the junkie that knows where the dependency will lead, but doesn't want aid. The dangers outweighed the consequences because the sex was that great. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. Eight months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her partner is a police detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in typical.

I 'd never ever heard such shocking and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking children, dads raping young daughters, ladies having sex with animals, mothers viewing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, partners handling troops of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little girls. 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 someone she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found particularly troubling was that her vile dreams worked their method into my tame fantasies like an attacking infection, pressing my simple, relatively clean daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, frequently with me as the included entertainer. 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, anywhere in your house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head.

Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, providing me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We went shopping for clothes a great deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe manager. I used only short dresses at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female form. She encouraged me I was stunning to the severe, specifically in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly 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 fragrant douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, however hiding the result from my spouse 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 recommendation. This time, I listened diligently as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the kind of guy that resides in fear of his better half cheating on him. I will not have you followed. I won't question your activities or the method you dress. I won't snoop or ask questions. 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 been born if I ever get evidence favorable or capture you in the act. That was it. I just nodded my understanding, however I didn't rather understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a lady. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I might only imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born involved. 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 harm me, however the thought never left my mind. I believed he might require me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Perhaps, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a great make fun of the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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