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3 months earlier, I was your everyday homemaker and mother of 3-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman 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. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. Sex is all I believe about, and no perversion turns me off. In fantasy, I wanted 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 was like the addict that understands where the dependency will lead, but doesn't want help. I feared my sexual addiction would virtually destroy my marriage. I 'd lose my children and possibly end up in prison. I couldn't help that. The threats surpassed the consequences since the sex was that great. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. 8 months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her spouse is a cops detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common.

I 'd never ever heard such shocking and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking kids, dads raping young children, ladies making love with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, partners taking on soldiers of horny guys, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little girls. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about someone she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I found especially disturbing was that her repellent dreams worked their method into my tame fantasies like an invading virus, pushing my basic, relatively tidy daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my month-to-month practice of masturbating in the shower using 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 6 months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.

Many of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothing a fantastic deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet manager. I used only short gowns at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female kind. I have actually always thought of myself as being too brief, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Additionally, I thought about the female genitalia as a nasty fracture beside a shit hole. She convinced me I was gorgeous to the extreme, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfortable even when suffering before her with my legs large 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 included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, however hiding the arise from my other half was impossible. My very first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max cautioned me not to cheat. I remember being incensed at the simple recommendation. This time, I listened attentively as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the type of man that resides in worry of his other half cheating on him. I will not have you followed. I will not question your activities or the way you dress. I won't sleuth or ask questions. You can come and go as you please. If I ever discover that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had actually never 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 hit a woman. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I might only imagine what wishing I 'd never been born involved. Max is a huge guy, a man of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically damage me, however the idea never ever left my mind. I believed he might force me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that launched Staci's crusade to begin me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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