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Three months ago, I was your daily housewife and mother of three-- 2 young boys, 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 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 boredom and made me what I am today. I easily admit I am a sex junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and dirty, unclean and horrible .
In fantasy, I desired everyone to know the new me. In reality, I didn't wish to promote that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.
I was like the junkie that knows where the addiction will lead, however doesn't want aid. The threats outweighed the repercussions since the sex was that excellent. I like Staci for what she's done. 8 months of patient prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first meeting. Her other half is a authorities detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common. I discovered her rather dull and one dimensional. She's likewise rather plain and plump with short-cropped hair and a pudgy face. She dropped out of high school, whereas I am dealing with my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language atrocious. In blended business, 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 stunning and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking kids, fathers raping young children, females having sex with animals, moms seeing dirty old men molest their daughters and getting off on it, spouses taking on soldiers of randy guys, blacks on whites, old with young, dogs on little ladies. 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 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 became aware of, never about anything she had any direct knowledge of. I felt like she was just fantasizing aloud, and I thought she was a very ill female. What I discovered particularly disturbing was that her vile fantasies worked their way into my tame fantasies like an invading infection, pushing my easy, reasonably clean musings of romantic love out changing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my month-to-month practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and began a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in your house. After six 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 give it a try. I almost broke my back in the attempt, but a easy 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 makeup, offering me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We went shopping for clothes a fantastic offer, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet manager. I used only short dresses at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female kind. She encouraged me I was beautiful to the extreme, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she soon had me comfy even when languishing prior to her with my legs wide apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina version 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, but concealing the result from my husband was impossible. My very 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 discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof positive or catch you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never 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 exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a woman. He had actually never threatened me with divorce. I could only imagine what wanting I 'd never been born required. Max is a big guy, a male 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 thought he may force me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Possibly, he 'd tattoo the word Whore on my forehead. He might fit me with a chastity belt. Staci and I had a excellent make fun of the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, oddly enough, that introduced Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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