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3 months earlier, I was your daily homemaker and mother of 3-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and probably 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 slut, a slut. Sex is all I think of, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and dirty, horrible and filthy .
In dream, I wanted everybody to know the new me. In reality, I didn't wish 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 understands where the dependency will lead, however does not want help. I feared my sexual addiction would virtually damage my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and potentially end up in prison. I could not assist that. Because the sex was that good, the threats 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 specialist manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a hard and long one for me, however absolutely nothing beneficial comes easy as my father would say. 8 months of patient prodding has actually settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her partner is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. 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, mother's fucking sons, dads raping young children, women making love with animals, mothers enjoying dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, partners taking on troops of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, canines on little girls. 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 always about somebody she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I found particularly disturbing was that her repellent dreams worked their method into my tame fantasies like an getting into infection, pushing my easy, relatively clean musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the included performer. I stopped my 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 house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.
Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, providing me pedicures, rubbing 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 only brief gowns at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female type. I have constantly thought of myself as being too short, too skinny, 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 gorgeous to the extreme, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfortable even when languishing before her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started 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, but concealing the arise from my hubby was difficult. My first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max cautioned me not to cheat. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never been born. That was it. I simply nodded my understanding, however I didn't rather comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a female. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I could just envision what wanting I 'd never ever been born entailed. Max is a big guy, a man of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, however the thought never left my mind. I believed he might require me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Perhaps, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a great make fun of 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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