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Three months ago, I was your daily housewife and mom of 3-- 2 kids, 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 throughout the street from Staci and Joe. The life of a housewife with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. I freely 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 dirty, dirty and disgusting . In fantasy, I wanted everyone to understand the new me. In reality, I didn't want to advertise that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.

I was like the junkie that knows where the addiction will lead, but doesn't desire aid. The risks outweighed the repercussions because the sex was that excellent. I like Staci for what she's done. Eight months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first meeting. Her spouse is a authorities detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in typical.

I 'd never ever heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, fathers raping young children, females having sex with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, wives handling soldiers of horny males, blacks on whites, old with young, canines on little women. She had my head swimming in a swamp 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 constantly about someone she understood or found out about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. I felt like she was just thinking out loud, and I thought she was a really ill female. What I found particularly troubling was that her repellent dreams worked their method into my tame fantasies like an invading infection, pressing my basic, fairly clean daydreams of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and began a everyday session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your home. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept 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 nearly broke my back in the effort, but a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush manage was no longer enough.

Many of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, offering me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We went shopping for clothing a fantastic deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe manager. I used only brief gowns at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female kind. I have constantly thought about myself as being too brief, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Additionally, I considered the female genitalia as a nasty crack next to a shit hole. She encouraged me I was stunning to the extreme, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfy 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 started with a scented 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 result from my other half was difficult. My 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 positive or catch you in the act, I'll make you want you had never been born. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I might only imagine what wanting I 'd never been born required. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, but the thought never ever left my mind. I thought he may require me to go through a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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