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3 months ago, I was your daily homemaker 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 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 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 dirty, dirty and revolting .
In fantasy, I wanted everyone to know the new me. In reality, I didn't want to market that fact, but I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.
I resembled the junkie that knows where the dependency will lead, but doesn't desire assistance. I feared my sexual dependency would virtually damage my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and perhaps wind up in prison. I couldn't assist that. The threats outweighed the consequences because the sex was that excellent. I like Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, was familiar with me, inside and out, then started her specialist adjustments that led me to where I am now. The journey has actually been a tough and long one for me, however nothing rewarding comes easy as my daddy would say. Eight months of client prodding has settled for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first meeting. Her spouse is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had nothing in typical.
I 'd never heard such stunning and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking children, daddies raping young children, ladies making love with animals, mothers watching dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, spouses handling soldiers 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 someone she understood or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. What I found especially disturbing was that her repellent 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 draw orgy marathons, typically with me as the featured entertainer. I stopped my regular 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, throughout your house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I discovered how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea 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 provide it a try. I almost broke my back in the attempt, however a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush handle was no longer enough.
Many of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, giving me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me continuously. We went shopping for clothes a fantastic offer, with Staci making the selections as though she were my closet manager. I used only short gowns at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the ideal female kind. She encouraged me I was gorgeous to the severe, especially in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfy even when suffering before her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began with a aromatic 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, however hiding the result from my other half was difficult. My very first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marital relationship, Max cautioned me not to cheat. If I ever discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you want you had never been born. He had never ever threatened me with divorce. I could just envision what wanting I 'd never been born involved. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, but the idea never ever left my mind. I thought he might force me to undergo 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 good laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that released Staci's crusade to start me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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