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3 months back, I was your everyday homemaker and mom of three-- 2 young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl 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 boring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. I easily confess I am a sex junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and filthy, disgusting and dirty . In dream, I wanted everybody to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't want to promote that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I resembled the junkie that understands where the addiction will lead, however does not want aid. I feared my sexual dependency would virtually ruin my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and potentially end up in prison. I could not help that. Because the sex was that good, the threats surpassed the consequences. I enjoy 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 very first meeting. Her spouse is a cops detective, 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 children, daddies raping young daughters, ladies making love with animals, moms watching dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, other halves taking on soldiers 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 siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were constantly about somebody she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I discovered especially troubling was that her disgusting fantasies worked their method into my tame dreams like an getting into virus, pushing my simple, fairly clean daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, often with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing 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 found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.

We didn't constantly sit for stories. The majority of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothing a good deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe manager. I deferred to her and used what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, throwing out every set of trousers I owned. I wore just brief dresses at Staci's insistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. My uninteresting life ended when I pertained to accept my function as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female kind. She persuaded me I was gorgeous to the severe, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfortable even when suffering 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 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, but hiding the result from my spouse was difficult. My very 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 idea. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the type of guy that lives in fear of his partner unfaithful on him. I won't have you followed. I won't question your activities or the method you dress. I will not snoop or ask questions. You can go and come as you please. If I ever learn that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you want 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 exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a lady. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could just imagine what wishing I 'd never been born entailed. Max is a huge male, a male of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, but the thought never ever left my mind. I thought he may force me to go through a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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