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Three months ago, I was your everyday housewife and mom of three-- two kids, 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.
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 easily admit I am a sex junkie, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and dirty, unclean and disgusting .
In fantasy, I wanted everyone to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't wish to promote that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.
I resembled the addict that understands where the dependency will lead, but does not want help. I feared my sexual addiction would practically ruin my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and potentially wind up in prison. I couldn't help that. Because the sex was that great, the dangers exceeded the effects. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, got to know me, inside and out, then started her expert controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a hard and long one for me, but nothing rewarding comes easy as my daddy would say. 8 months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her spouse is a cops detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common.
I 'd never heard such stunning and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, dads raping young daughters, ladies making love with animals, moms viewing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, other halves handling soldiers of randy guys, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, 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 understanding of. What I discovered especially disturbing was that her disgusting dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an getting into virus, pressing my basic, reasonably clean musings of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the featured performer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and began a everyday session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your house. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.
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 constantly. We went shopping for clothing a great offer, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I used just brief gowns at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female type. She encouraged me I was lovely to the severe, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfy even when suffering prior to 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 aromatic 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 hiding the result from my spouse was difficult. My very first cunnicure prompted 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 evidence favorable 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 only imagine what wishing I 'd never been born involved. I seriously questioned he would physically hurt me, but the idea never left my mind. I believed he might force me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that launched Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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