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Three months ago, I was your daily housewife and mother of 3-- 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 homemaker with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my dullness and made me what I am today. I easily admit I am a sex junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and unclean, unclean and horrible . In fantasy, I desired everyone to understand the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't wish to advertise that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the addict that knows where the addiction will lead, however doesn't want assistance. The risks exceeded the repercussions because the sex was that great. I like Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then started her professional controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a long and difficult one for me, however nothing worthwhile comes easy as my daddy would state. 8 months of patient prodding has actually settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first meeting. Her spouse is a cops detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common. I discovered her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a pudgy face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am working on my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language atrocious. In mixed business, I laughed uneasily at her crude jokes, but the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never ever heard such stunning and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking kids, fathers raping young daughters, females having sex with animals, mothers watching dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, spouses taking on troops of randy guys, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little girls. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck to Staci. I felt like I had to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were always about somebody she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I felt like she was just thinking aloud, and I believed she was a extremely sick lady. What I discovered especially disturbing was that her repellent fantasies worked their way into my tame dreams like an getting into virus, pushing my simple, relatively clean musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and began a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in 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 whirl. I almost broke my back in the attempt, however a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush deal with was no longer enough.

Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, providing me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothing a excellent deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I wore just short gowns at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female type. She persuaded me I was lovely to the severe, particularly in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfortable even when languishing before her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina version 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 extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, however concealing the result from my husband 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. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof 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 could just picture what wanting I 'd never been born entailed. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, but the idea never left my mind. I believed he may force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Perhaps, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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