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3 months earlier, I was your everyday homemaker and mother of 3-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My partner, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot lawyer with the DA's workplace. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and probably never ever would have had we stagnated across the street from Staci and Joe. I was so straight if I masturbated more than once a month, I felt guilty.
The life of a housewife with all kids in school is boring 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 of, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and filthy, horrible and dirty .
In fantasy, I desired everyone to understand 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 addict that understands where the addiction will lead, however doesn't want assistance. The threats outweighed the consequences since the sex was that great. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then started her professional adjustments that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a challenging and long one for me, however nothing worthwhile comes easy as my dad would say. 8 months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first meeting. Her husband is a authorities investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common. I discovered her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a tubby face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language atrocious. In mixed company, I chuckled uneasily at her unrefined jokes, but the stories she informed me when we were alone left me speechless.
I 'd never heard such shocking and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking boys, daddies raping young daughters, women having sex with animals, moms watching dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, spouses handling soldiers of horny males, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little girls. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, so I was stuck to Staci. I felt like I needed to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were always about someone she understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I felt like she was just thinking out loud, and I thought she was a very ill woman. What I found particularly troubling was that her vile dreams worked their method into my tame fantasies like an invading infection, pressing my easy, relatively clean musings of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the included performer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and started 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 learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head. She informed 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 try. I practically broke my back in the attempt, but a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush handle was no longer enough.
Many of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, providing me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We went shopping for clothes a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I wore only short dresses at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female type. I have actually constantly thought about myself as being too brief, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Additionally, I considered the female genitalia as a nasty fracture beside a shit hole. She convinced me I was stunning to the severe, particularly in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly 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 began with a fragrant 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, but hiding the arise from my hubby 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. If I ever discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you want you had actually never ever been born. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could only imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born involved. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, however the idea never left my mind. I thought he might force me to undergo a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that released Staci's crusade to begin me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.
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