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Three months earlier, I was your everyday housewife and mother of three-- 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 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 unclean, horrible and filthy .
In fantasy, I wanted everybody to know 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, but doesn't desire help. The risks outweighed the consequences since the sex was that great. I love Staci for what she's done. 8 months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her other half is a cops investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common. In fact, I found her rather dull and one dimensional. She's likewise 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 found her childish fascination with sexual matters troubling and her language atrocious. In blended company, I laughed 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 revolting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking sons, dads raping young daughters, ladies having sex with animals, moms enjoying dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, spouses taking on troops of horny men, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little women. 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 always about somebody she understood or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I discovered especially troubling was that her repellent fantasies worked their way into my tame dreams like an attacking infection, pushing my basic, relatively tidy musings of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured performer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing 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 learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head too. 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 whirl. I practically broke my back in the effort, but a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush handle was no longer enough.
Many of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, offering me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We shopped for clothing a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet supervisor. 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 type. She convinced me I was gorgeous to the extreme, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly 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 scented 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, however concealing the arise from my partner was impossible. My very first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max alerted me not to cheat. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence favorable or capture 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 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 threatened me with divorce. I could just imagine what wishing I 'd never ever been born entailed. Max is a huge guy, a guy of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, however the idea never ever left my mind. I believed he may force me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that released Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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