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Three months ago, I was your everyday homemaker and mom of three-- 2 kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and most likely never ever would have had we not moved throughout the street from Staci and Joe. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. In dream, I desired everyone to know the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't wish to promote 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, however does not want help. I feared my sexual addiction would practically ruin my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and potentially end up in prison. I couldn't assist that. The risks outweighed the consequences because the sex was that good. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then started her expert manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a hard and long one for me, however nothing worthwhile comes easy as my daddy would say. Eight months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her hubby is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common.

I 'd never heard such stunning and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking kids, daddies raping young daughters, females having sex with animals, mothers seeing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, wives taking on soldiers of horny males, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little girls. 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 someone she understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I discovered especially disturbing was that her vile fantasies worked their method into my tame fantasies like an invading virus, pushing my basic, relatively clean daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, typically with me as the included entertainer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and began a day-to-day 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. 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 offer it a try. I practically broke my back in the attempt, however a easy self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush handle was no longer enough.

Many of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We went shopping for clothes a great offer, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I wore only brief gowns at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female type. She encouraged me I was gorgeous to the extreme, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfy 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 included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a comprehensive 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 prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max alerted me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the mere tip. This time, I listened attentively as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the type of man that resides in fear of his partner unfaithful on him. I will not have you followed. I will not question your activities or the method you dress. I will not snoop or ask questions. You can come and go as you please. , if I ever find out that you cheated on me.. I'll make you wish you had never been born if I ever get proof positive or capture you in the act. That was it. I just nodded my understanding, however I didn't rather comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do precisely. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a female. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I could only picture what wishing I 'd never been born involved. Max is a big male, a male of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically hurt me, but the thought never left my mind. I believed he might require me to undergo 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 road of adulterous affairs.

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