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3 months earlier, I was your everyday homemaker and mother of 3-- 2 kids, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a woman 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. Staci ended my boredom and made me what I am today. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off. In fantasy, I desired everyone to know the brand-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 resembled the addict that understands where the addiction will lead, however doesn't want aid. I feared my sexual addiction would essentially damage my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and potentially wind up in prison. I could not assist that. Due to the fact that the sex was that good, the threats exceeded the effects. I enjoy Staci for what she's done. 8 months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first conference. Her hubby is a police detective, so Max and Joe have the law in typical. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in typical.

I 'd never heard such stunning and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking children, fathers raping young daughters, ladies making love with animals, mothers enjoying dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, partners handling soldiers of horny guys, blacks on whites, old with young, pet dogs on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like siblings, so I was stuck to Staci. I seemed like I needed to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were always about someone she knew or heard about, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. I felt like she was merely fantasizing out loud, and I thought she was a very ill woman. What I discovered especially troubling was that her repellent fantasies worked their way into my tame fantasies like an invading infection, pushing my basic, relatively clean visions 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 using a water wand, and started a daily session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, anywhere in the house. After 6 months of Staci's stories, I found out how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.

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 shopped for clothes a terrific deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet manager. I used only brief gowns at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female type. She encouraged me I was beautiful to the severe, particularly in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she quickly had me comfy even when languishing prior to her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area 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 thorough hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, but hiding the result from my hubby was difficult. My very first cunnicure triggered Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max cautioned me not to cheat. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof positive or catch you in the act, I'll make you want you had actually never been born. That was it. I just nodded my understanding, however I didn't quite understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever hit a woman. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I could only envision what wanting I 'd never ever been born required. Max is a huge guy, a guy of John Wayne stature who could snap my back with one hand. I seriously doubted he would physically damage me, but the idea never left my mind. I believed he might require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a good laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, strangely enough, that launched Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.

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