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3 months back, I was your daily housewife and mom of three-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and probably 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 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 want my sex down and unclean, filthy and disgusting . In fantasy, I desired everyone to know the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't wish to market 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 want aid. I feared my sexual dependency would virtually destroy my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and potentially wind up in prison. I could not assist that. The risks exceeded the effects since the sex was that good. I love Staci for what she's done. Eight months of client 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 found her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a chubby face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language atrocious. In mixed company, I laughed uneasily at her unrefined jokes, but the stories she informed me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never ever heard such shocking and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking sons, fathers raping young children, females making love with animals, mothers enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, wives taking on troops of randy males, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little women. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck to Staci. I felt like I had to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were constantly about someone she understood or became aware of, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. I seemed like she was just daydreaming aloud, and I thought she was a really ill lady. What I found especially disturbing was that her repellent dreams worked their method into my tame fantasies like an getting into infection, pressing my basic, relatively tidy visions of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, often with me as the included 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 concept 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 cosmetics, providing me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothing a lot, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe manager. I accepted her and used what she chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, tossing out every set of trousers I owned. I used just short gowns at Staci's persistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. My dull life ended when I pertained to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female kind. She encouraged me I was lovely to the extreme, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfy even when languishing before her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began with a scented douche and included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, however concealing the arise from my hubby was impossible. My first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max alerted me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the mere idea. This time, I listened diligently as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the kind of male that resides in worry of his better half unfaithful on him. I won't have you followed. I won't question your activities or the method you dress. I will not sleuth or ask concerns. You can reoccur as you please. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never ever been born. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I might just picture what wishing I 'd never been born involved. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, but the idea never ever left my mind. I believed he might force me to go through 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 introduced Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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