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Three months back, I was your daily homemaker and mom of 3-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a lady of twelve, Sandy. Cheating on Max never entered my mind, and probably never would have had we not moved across the street from Staci and Joe.
The life of a homemaker with all kids in school is tiring 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 about, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and unclean, dirty and horrible .
In fantasy, I wanted everyone to know the new me. In reality, I didn't wish 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 desire assistance. I feared my sexual addiction would practically damage my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and perhaps end up in prison. I couldn't help that. Because the sex was that good, the risks exceeded the repercussions. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, got to know me, inside and out, then began her specialist adjustments that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a long and tough one for me, but absolutely nothing worthwhile comes easy as my dad would state. 8 months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first conference. Her husband is a authorities detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common. In fact, I discovered her rather dull and one dimensional. She's likewise rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a tubby face. She left 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 mixed business, I laughed uneasily at her crude jokes, however the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.
I 'd never ever heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking sons, fathers raping young daughters, females having sex with animals, mothers seeing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, spouses handling soldiers of randy guys, blacks on whites, old with young, canines 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. I seemed like I needed to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were always about someone she knew or heard about, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. I seemed like she was merely thinking aloud, and I believed she was a very ill female. What I found especially disturbing was that her disgusting dreams worked their way into my tame dreams like an getting into infection, pushing my easy, relatively clean musings of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, typically with me as the included performer. I stopped my month-to-month 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 the house. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept 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 whirl. I almost broke my back in the effort, but a basic self-fuck with cucumbers or my daughter's hair brush deal with was no longer enough.
Most of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, offering me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We went shopping for clothes a fantastic deal, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet supervisor. I used just short gowns at Staci's insistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female kind. She convinced me I was stunning to the extreme, particularly in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfortable even when languishing prior to 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 started 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, however hiding the result from my other half was impossible. My first cunnicure triggered 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 find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence positive or catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never ever been born. He had never threatened me with divorce. I could just picture what wanting I 'd never ever been born entailed. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, but the idea never left my mind. I thought he may force me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that launched Staci's crusade to begin me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.
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