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Three months back, I was your everyday housewife and mother of three-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and most likely never would have had we not moved throughout the street from Staci and Joe. The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is boring to the extreme. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. I easily confess 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, disgusting and dirty . In dream, I wanted everyone to know the new me. In reality, I didn't wish 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 does not want aid. I feared my sexual addiction would essentially destroy my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and perhaps wind up in prison. I could not help that. The threats outweighed the repercussions since 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 specialist manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a long and challenging one for me, but nothing beneficial comes easy as my father would say. 8 months of patient prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first meeting. Her partner is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common. In fact, I discovered her rather dull and one dimensional. She's also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a tubby face. She left of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language godawful. In blended company, I laughed uneasily at her unrefined jokes, however the stories she informed me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never heard such stunning and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, daddies raping young children, women making love with animals, mothers watching dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, other halves taking on troops of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, canines on little women. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were constantly about somebody she understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found especially troubling was that her disgusting dreams worked their method into my tame dreams like an getting into virus, pushing my basic, relatively tidy daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, frequently 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 your home. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head too. 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 give it a try. I almost broke my back in the effort, however a basic self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush deal with was no longer enough.

Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, giving me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothes a great deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet supervisor. I wore only short gowns at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female type. I have always considered myself as being too brief, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I believed of the female genitalia as a nasty fracture next to a shit hole. She encouraged me I was beautiful to the extreme, specifically in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfy even when languishing before her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began with a aromatic douche and involved a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, however concealing the arise from my partner was impossible. My very first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max alerted me not to cheat. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had actually never ever been born. That was it. I merely nodded my understanding, but I didn't quite understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a female. He had never threatened me with divorce. I might only envision what wanting I 'd never been born involved. Max is a huge guy, a man of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically damage me, but the thought never left my mind. I thought he might require me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Perhaps, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He might fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a excellent make fun of the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that released Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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