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Three months earlier, I was your everyday homemaker and mother of three-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never 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 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 addict that understands where the addiction will lead, but doesn't desire assistance. I feared my sexual addiction would practically damage my marriage. I 'd lose my kids and perhaps end up in prison. I couldn't assist that. Due to the fact that the sex was that great, the risks outweighed the consequences. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, got to know me, inside and out, then started her professional manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a challenging and long one for me, however absolutely nothing worthwhile comes easy as my father would state. 8 months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first meeting. Her husband 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 also rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a tubby face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language atrocious. In mixed company, I laughed uncomfortably at her crude jokes, however the stories she told 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 kids, fathers raping young children, females having sex with animals, moms viewing 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 siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. I seemed like I needed to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were constantly about someone she understood or became aware of, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. I felt like she was simply fantasizing aloud, and I believed 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 virus, pressing my basic, fairly clean daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck 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 started a everyday session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in your house. After 6 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 nearly broke my back in the effort, however a basic self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush handle was no longer enough.
Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, providing me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We went shopping for clothes a fantastic offer, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet supervisor. I used only short dresses at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female type. I have actually always thought about myself as being too short, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Furthermore, I thought about the female genitalia as a nasty crack next to a shit hole. She persuaded me I was lovely to the extreme, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfortable even when languishing prior to her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina variation 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 thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, however concealing the arise from my other half was impossible. My very first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max warned me not to cheat. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you wish you had actually never ever been born. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could just envision what wishing I 'd never ever been born required. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, however the idea never left my mind. I thought he might require me to go through a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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