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Three months ago, I was your daily homemaker and mom of three-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman 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 housewife with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. I freely admit I am a sex junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and dirty, dirty and horrible .
In fantasy, I desired everybody to know the new me. In reality, I didn't want to promote that fact, but 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, but doesn't want assistance. I feared my sexual dependency would essentially ruin my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and potentially end up in prison. I couldn't assist that. Because the sex was that excellent, the threats outweighed the consequences. I like Staci for what she's done. 8 months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her spouse is a authorities investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common. In fact, I discovered her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a tubby face. She left of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language atrocious. In combined business, I laughed uncomfortably at her crude jokes, but the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.
I 'd never ever heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, dads raping young daughters, females making love with animals, moms viewing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, wives handling troops of horny males, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little women. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with Staci. I felt like I needed to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were always about someone she knew or found out about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I seemed like she was just fantasizing aloud, and I thought she was a extremely ill female. What I discovered particularly troubling was that her vile dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an invading virus, pressing my simple, fairly tidy visions of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the included performer. 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, throughout your house. After six 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. Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We purchased clothes a good deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I accepted her and used what she picked out. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, throwing out every pair of trousers I owned. I used just brief dresses at Staci's insistence. I became 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 perfect female type. She convinced me I was lovely to the severe, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly 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 scented douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, but concealing 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 marital relationship, Max warned 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 kind of man that resides in fear of his better half unfaithful on him. I will not have you followed. I will not question your activities or the method you dress. I won't snoop 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 catch you in the act, I'll make you want you had never been born. That was it. I merely nodded my understanding, however I didn't quite understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a female. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I might only envision what wanting I 'd never ever been born involved. Max is a huge male, a guy of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, however the thought never ever left my mind. I thought he may 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 great make fun of the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that released Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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