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Three months back, I was your everyday housewife and mom of 3-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and most likely 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 tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. I freely confess I am a sex addict, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and dirty, dirty and disgusting . In fantasy, I wanted everyone 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 dependency will lead, however doesn't want aid. The dangers surpassed the consequences because the sex was that good. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, learnt more about me, inside and out, then started her professional controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a difficult and long one for me, but absolutely nothing beneficial comes easy as my dad would state. 8 months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first meeting. Her partner is a cops detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common.

I 'd never ever heard such stunning and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, fathers raping young children, ladies having sex with animals, mothers watching dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, spouses handling troops of horny guys, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were constantly about someone she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found particularly troubling was that her vile dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking infection, pushing my easy, reasonably clean musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my monthly 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 discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head also. 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 whirl. I almost broke my back in the effort, but a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush manage was no longer enough.

Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, giving me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We shopped for clothing a terrific offer, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I wore just brief dresses at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female form. I have actually constantly thought about myself as being too brief, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Furthermore, I considered the female genitalia as a nasty crack beside a shit hole. She encouraged me I was beautiful to the severe, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfy even when suffering prior to 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 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 impossible. My very first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max alerted me not to cheat. I keep in mind being incensed at the mere tip. This time, I listened attentively as he stated, Theresa, I'm not the type of man that lives in fear of his better half cheating on him. I will not have you followed. I will not question your activities or the method you dress. I won't sleuth or ask concerns. You can go and come as you please. If I ever learn that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you wish you had actually never ever been born. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could only imagine what wanting I 'd never been born entailed. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, but the idea never ever left my mind. I thought he might require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Possibly, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He might fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that launched Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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