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3 months back, I was your everyday homemaker and mother of three-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and probably never 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 everyone to know the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want to market that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I resembled the junkie that understands where the dependency will lead, but doesn't desire help. I feared my sexual addiction would practically destroy my marriage. I 'd lose my children and possibly wind up in prison. I could not help that. The risks outweighed the repercussions since the sex was that great. I love Staci for what she's done. Eight months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her other half is a authorities investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common. In fact, I found her rather dull and one dimensional. She's likewise rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a pudgy face. She left 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 business, I chuckled 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 disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking sons, fathers raping young children, females having sex with animals, mothers seeing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, better halves handling soldiers of horny guys, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were always about somebody she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found especially troubling was that her vile fantasies worked their way into my tame dreams like an invading virus, pressing my easy, reasonably clean musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, typically with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and began 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 discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head also. 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 nearly broke my back in the attempt, but a easy self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush handle was no longer enough.

Many of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothing a great deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe supervisor. I used just brief gowns at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female form. She encouraged me I was lovely to the severe, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfy even when languishing prior to her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started 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 result from my hubby was difficult. My very 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 discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you want you had never ever been born. That was it. I merely nodded my understanding, however I didn't rather understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do precisely. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a female. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I could just picture what wanting I 'd never ever been born involved. Max is a big guy, a man of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, however the thought never left my mind. I believed he may require me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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