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Three months ago, I was your daily homemaker and mother of 3-- two kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and probably never ever would have had we not moved across the street from Staci and Joe. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. In dream, I desired everyone to know the new me. In reality, I didn't want to market that fact, however 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, however does not want assistance. The risks outweighed the effects because the sex was that great. I like Staci for what she's done. 8 months of client prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her spouse is a authorities detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common. In fact, I discovered 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 dealing with my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language godawful. In blended business, I chuckled uneasily at her unrefined jokes, however the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never ever heard such shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking children, dads raping young children, females having sex with animals, moms viewing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, wives taking on troops of horny males, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little women. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck with 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 someone she understood or found out about, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I felt like she was merely daydreaming out loud, and I believed she was a extremely sick woman. What I discovered particularly troubling was that her disgusting fantasies worked their method into my tame fantasies like an attacking virus, pressing my easy, fairly clean visions of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, often with me as the included performer. I stopped my regular monthly 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 six months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head. She told 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 practically broke my back in the attempt, however a basic self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush handle was no longer enough.

Most of our time together was invested 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 manager. I used only short gowns at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female form. I have actually always considered myself as being too brief, too skinny, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I believed of the female genitalia as a nasty crack next to a shit hole. She encouraged me I was lovely to the extreme, specifically between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfy even when languishing 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 began with a fragrant douche and included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a comprehensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, but hiding the result from my spouse was difficult. My first cunnicure triggered 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 favorable or catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had actually never been born. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could only envision what wishing I 'd never been born entailed. I seriously doubted he would physically harm me, however the idea never left my mind. I believed he may require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. 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 start me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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