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3 months ago, I was your everyday housewife and mom of 3-- 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 across 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 slut, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and unclean, unclean and horrible . In dream, I wanted everybody to know the new me. In reality, I didn't want to advertise that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the junkie that understands where the addiction will lead, but doesn't desire help. I feared my sexual dependency would essentially damage my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and possibly end up in prison. I could not help that. The dangers outweighed the repercussions since the sex was that good. I love Staci for what she's done. Eight months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first meeting. Her hubby is a authorities detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common. I found her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a pudgy face. She left of high school, whereas I am working on my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language atrocious. In combined company, I laughed uncomfortably at her crude jokes, but the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never heard such stunning and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, daddies raping young daughters, ladies having sex with animals, mothers viewing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, partners handling troops of randy guys, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were constantly about someone she knew or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found particularly troubling was that her disgusting dreams worked their method into my tame fantasies like an getting into virus, pressing my basic, reasonably tidy musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the included entertainer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and began a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in the house. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned 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 clothes a good deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet supervisor. I accepted her and wore what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, throwing out every set of trousers I owned. I wore just brief gowns at Staci's persistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. My boring life ended when I came to accept my function as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female type. I have always thought of myself as being too short, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I believed of the female genitalia as a nasty crack next to a shit hole. She persuaded me I was gorgeous to the extreme, specifically in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfy even when suffering before her with my legs broad 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 involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, but hiding the arise from my other half was impossible. My 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 simple recommendation. This time, I listened attentively as he said, Theresa, I'm not the type of man that lives in fear of his other half unfaithful on him. I will not have you followed. I won't question your activities or the way you dress. I won't sleuth or ask questions. You can reoccur as you please. , if I ever discover out that you cheated on me.. I'll make you wish you had actually never been born if I ever get evidence positive or catch you in the act. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I could only picture what wanting I 'd never ever been born involved. I seriously questioned he would physically hurt me, but the thought never left my mind. I believed he may require me to go through a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.

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