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3 months back, I was your everyday 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 ever 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 wish to advertise that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.
I was like the addict that knows where the dependency will lead, but doesn't want assistance. The dangers outweighed the effects because the sex was that excellent. I like Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, learnt more about me, inside and out, then began her expert manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a hard and long one for me, but nothing worthwhile comes easy as my dad would state. 8 months of patient prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first meeting. Her husband is a cops detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common.
I 'd never heard such stunning and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking kids, daddies raping young children, females making love with animals, mothers watching dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, better halves handling 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 siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. I seemed like I needed to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were constantly about somebody she understood or found out about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I felt like she was merely thinking aloud, and I believed she was a very ill female. What I discovered especially disturbing was that her disgusting fantasies worked their way into my tame fantasies like an invading infection, pressing my simple, fairly clean visions of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the featured 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 home. After 6 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. Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, providing me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothes a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I deferred to her and used what she chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, tossing out every set of pants I owned. I used just short gowns at Staci's persistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. My boring life ended when I concerned accept my role as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female form. I have actually always considered myself as being too short, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Moreover, I thought of the female genitalia as a nasty crack next to a shit hole. She convinced me I was beautiful to the extreme, specifically in between my legs. This took some convincing, however 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 fragrance. I liked her manicures, however concealing the result from my husband was impossible. My first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max cautioned me not to cheat. 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 wish you had never ever been born. That was it. I just nodded my understanding, however I didn't quite understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do precisely. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a lady. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could just picture what wanting I 'd never ever been born involved. Max is a huge male, a man of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, however the idea never left my mind. I believed he might force me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, but 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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