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3 months back, I was your daily homemaker and mom of 3-- 2 kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. My other half, Maxwell Blake, is a big-shot attorney with the DA's office. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and probably never ever would have had we not moved across the street from Staci and Joe. I was so straight if I masturbated more than once a month, I felt guilty.
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 confess I am a sex junkie, a slut, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and dirty, revolting and filthy .
In dream, I wanted everybody to understand the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want to market that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.
I was like the addict that knows where the addiction will lead, but doesn't want aid. I feared my sexual addiction would practically destroy my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and potentially wind up in prison. I could not assist that. Since the sex was that excellent, the risks surpassed the repercussions. 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 first meeting. Her other half is a police detective, 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 chubby face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language godawful. In mixed company, I laughed uneasily at her unrefined jokes, however the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.
I 'd never heard such stunning and revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking boys, dads raping young children, females having sex with animals, mothers enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, wives handling troops of horny guys, 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 bros, so I was stuck with Staci. I seemed like I needed to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were always about someone she understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I seemed like she was merely fantasizing aloud, and I believed she was a extremely ill female. What I found particularly troubling was that her repellent dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an attacking infection, pushing my basic, reasonably tidy visions of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the featured performer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and began a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in your home. After six months of Staci's stories, I discovered 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 provide it a try. I nearly broke my back in the attempt, but 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 makeup, giving me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We went shopping for clothing a excellent deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I wore just brief gowns at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female form. I have always thought about myself as being too short, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I believed of the female genitalia as a nasty crack next to a shit hole. She persuaded me I was stunning to the extreme, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfortable even when suffering prior to her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a fragrant douche and included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, but hiding the arise from my hubby was impossible. My first cunnicure prompted 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 catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had actually never been born. That was it. I just nodded my understanding, but I didn't rather comprehend. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do precisely. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a female. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could only imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born required. Max is a huge man, a male of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically damage me, but the thought never ever left my mind. I believed he might force me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Maybe, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He may fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that launched Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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