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Three months ago, I was your everyday homemaker and mother of three-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl 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. The life of a housewife with all kids in school is boring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. I freely admit I am a sex junkie, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and unclean, filthy and horrible . In fantasy, I desired everyone 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 junkie that understands where the dependency will lead, but doesn't desire assistance. I feared my sexual dependency would practically damage my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and perhaps wind up in prison. I could not help that. Due to the fact that the sex was that great, the threats 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 meeting. Her husband is a authorities detective, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in typical.

I 'd never ever heard such stunning and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking kids, dads raping young children, females making love with animals, mothers enjoying dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, other halves handling soldiers of randy 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 brothers, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about somebody she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found especially disturbing was that her vile dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an getting into infection, pushing my simple, relatively clean visions of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my regular monthly 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 the house. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head too. She told 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 almost broke my back in the effort, but a basic self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush manage was no longer enough.

Many of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, giving me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothes a excellent deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe manager. I used only brief gowns at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female kind. She encouraged me I was gorgeous to the extreme, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfortable even when suffering before her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a aromatic 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, but 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 cautioned me not to cheat. I keep in mind being incensed at the simple idea. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the kind of man that lives in worry of his better half unfaithful 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 concerns. You can go and come as you please. , if I ever find out that you cheated on me.. If I ever get evidence favorable or capture you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never ever been born. That was it. I simply nodded my understanding, however I didn't quite comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a lady. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could just picture what wishing I 'd never been born involved. Max is a huge man, a man of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, but the thought never ever left my mind. I believed he may force me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Possibly, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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