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3 months ago, I was your everyday housewife and mother of 3-- two young boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman 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.
The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is tiring to the extreme. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. I easily 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 unclean, disgusting and filthy .
In fantasy, I wanted everybody to understand the brand-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 was like the addict that understands where the dependency will lead, however does not desire assistance. The threats outweighed the repercussions since the sex was that great. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. Eight months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her hubby is a authorities detective, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in typical.
I 'd never ever heard such shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking boys, fathers raping young daughters, females having sex with animals, mothers watching dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, better halves taking on troops of randy males, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with Staci. I felt like I had to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were always about someone she knew or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I seemed like she was simply daydreaming aloud, and I thought she was a really ill lady. What I discovered especially disturbing was that her repellent dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking virus, pressing my basic, relatively clean musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my 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 six months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head.
We didn't always sit for stories. Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We bought clothing a great deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe manager. I accepted her and wore what she chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, throwing out every pair of pants I owned. I wore just short dresses at Staci's insistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. My dull life ended when I concerned accept my function as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female kind. She persuaded me I was stunning to the severe, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfortable even when suffering prior to her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area 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 extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, however hiding the arise from my hubby 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 proof positive or catch you in the act, I'll make you want you had never been born. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could only envision what wishing I 'd never been born involved. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, however the idea never 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, however it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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