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Three months back, I was your daily housewife and mother of 3-- 2 boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and probably never ever would have had we not moved across the street from Staci and Joe. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. In fantasy, I wanted everybody 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 junkie that understands where the addiction will lead, but doesn't want assistance. I feared my sexual addiction would virtually destroy my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and perhaps end up in prison. I couldn't help that. Because the sex was that excellent, the dangers outweighed the consequences. I like Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then started her expert manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a hard and long one for me, however absolutely nothing rewarding comes easy as my daddy would say. Eight months of client prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her other half is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common.

I 'd never ever heard such stunning and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking sons, dads raping young children, women having sex with animals, mothers watching dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, wives handling troops of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, canines 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 knew or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found particularly disturbing was that her disgusting fantasies worked their way into my tame fantasies like an getting into virus, pushing my basic, relatively clean visions of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured performer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and started a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your home. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head.

Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We went shopping for clothes a great deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe manager. I wore only short dresses at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female type. She encouraged me I was gorgeous to the extreme, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfy even when suffering prior to her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area version 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 perfume. I liked her manicures, but concealing the arise from my spouse was difficult. My 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. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you want you had never been born. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I might just imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born required. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, however the idea never left my mind. I believed he may force 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 laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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