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3 months ago, I was your daily housewife and mom of 3-- 2 kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never ever entered my mind, and most likely never ever would have had we not moved across the street from Staci and Joe. The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is boring to the extreme. Staci ended my dullness 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, dirty and revolting . In dream, I wanted everyone to know the brand-new me. In reality, I didn't want to promote that fact, but 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, but does not want aid. I feared my sexual dependency would virtually ruin my marital relationship. I 'd lose my kids and possibly wind up in prison. I could not assist that. Because the sex was that great, the dangers surpassed the consequences. 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 controls that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a difficult and long one for me, however 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 first conference. Her husband is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely 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 pudgy face. She left of high school, whereas I am working on my masters in English. I found her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language godawful. In blended company, I chuckled uneasily at her crude jokes, however the stories she informed 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, mom's fucking sons, fathers raping young daughters, ladies having sex with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, spouses taking on troops of horny men, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little women. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck to Staci. I felt like I needed to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were constantly about somebody she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. I seemed like she was just thinking out loud, and I thought she was a very ill lady. What I found particularly disturbing was that her disgusting fantasies worked their way into my tame fantasies like an attacking virus, pushing my basic, relatively clean daydreams of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my month-to-month 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, throughout the house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head. 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 offer it a try. I nearly broke my back in the effort, however a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush deal with was no longer enough.

Many of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and make-up, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We went shopping for clothing a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my wardrobe manager. I wore just brief gowns at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female kind. I have actually constantly thought about myself as being too brief, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. Moreover, I thought of the female genitalia as a nasty fracture beside a shit hole. She convinced me I was beautiful to the severe, particularly between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfy even when languishing before her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began with a aromatic douche and involved 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 concealing the arise from my partner was difficult. My very first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max cautioned me not to cheat. If I ever discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you want you had never been born. That was it. I merely nodded my understanding, but I didn't quite understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a female. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I could just imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born required. Max is a huge male, a male of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically harm me, however the idea never ever left my mind. I believed he may require 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, oddly enough, that launched Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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