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Three months earlier, I was your daily homemaker and mother of three-- 2 kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and most likely 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 boredom and made me what I am today. I easily confess I am a sex addict, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and unclean, unclean and horrible .
In dream, I wanted everyone to understand the 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 addict that understands where the addiction will lead, however does not want assistance. The dangers surpassed the consequences because the sex was that great. I like Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then began her professional manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a long and tough one for me, however nothing beneficial comes easy as my father would say. Eight months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her other half is a cops detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in typical.
I 'd never heard such stunning and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking kids, daddies raping young daughters, ladies having sex with animals, mothers enjoying dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, partners handling troops of randy guys, blacks on whites, old with young, canines on little girls. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, so I was stuck with Staci. Her stories were constantly about somebody she understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct knowledge of. What I found particularly troubling was that her disgusting fantasies worked their way into my tame dreams like an invading virus, pushing my simple, fairly clean visions of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the included performer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using 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 found out 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 provide it a try. I almost broke my back in the effort, however a easy self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush deal with was no longer enough.
Many of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We went shopping for clothing a fantastic deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe manager. I wore just short dresses at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female form. I have actually constantly 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 convinced me I was gorgeous to the severe, specifically between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfy 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 fragrant 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 result from my hubby was difficult. My very 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 discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence favorable or capture you in the act, I'll make you want you had never ever been born. That was it. I merely 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 hit a lady. He had never threatened me with divorce. I might just envision what wanting I 'd never been born required. Max is a big man, a guy of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, however the thought 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 make fun of 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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