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3 months back, I was your everyday housewife and mom of 3-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and probably never ever would have had we not moved throughout the street from Staci and Joe. The life of a homemaker 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 of, and no perversion turns me off. I desire my sex down and filthy, unclean and horrible . In fantasy, I wanted everybody to know the new me. In reality, I didn't wish to advertise 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 dependency will lead, however doesn't want aid. The threats surpassed the effects because the sex was that good. I like Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then started her specialist adjustments that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a long and difficult one for me, but absolutely nothing rewarding comes easy as my dad would state. 8 months of client prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first meeting. Her partner is a cops detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common. I discovered 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 working on my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language godawful. In blended business, I chuckled uncomfortably at her crude jokes, however the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking children, dads raping young daughters, women making love with animals, moms enjoying dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, other halves handling troops of horny males, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little women. 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 ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I found especially disturbing was that her vile dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an invading infection, pressing my basic, relatively clean daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the featured performer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and started a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your home. After six 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 invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, offering me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We went shopping for clothes a terrific deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet supervisor. I wore just short dresses at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female type. She persuaded me I was lovely to the severe, particularly in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfortable even when suffering before her with my legs wide 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 thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of perfume. I liked her manicures, however concealing the result from my hubby was impossible. My first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, 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 wish you had never been born. That was it. I merely 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 hit a female. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I might only envision what wanting I 'd never ever been born entailed. Max is a big man, a guy of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, but the thought never left my mind. I believed he may require me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Possibly, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He might fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a good make fun of the possibilities, however 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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