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3 months ago, I was your daily homemaker and mom of 3-- two boys, Phil, 15 Joey, 13 and a girl 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 confess 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 dirty, dirty and horrible . In dream, I wanted everybody to understand 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 was like the addict that knows where the addiction will lead, however doesn't want assistance. The dangers surpassed the consequences due to the fact that the sex was that good. I love Staci for what she's done. She took her time with me, learnt more about me, inside and out, then began her expert manipulations that led me to where I am now. The journey has been a long and challenging one for me, however absolutely nothing beneficial comes easy as my dad would say. 8 months of patient prodding has paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our first meeting. Her partner is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had absolutely nothing in common. 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 working on my masters in English. I discovered her childish fascination with sexual matters disturbing and her language godawful. In combined company, I laughed uncomfortably at her unrefined jokes, however the stories she told me when we were alone left me speechless.

I 'd never heard such shocking and horrible things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mom's fucking boys, daddies raping young children, ladies making love with animals, mothers viewing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, partners handling soldiers of horny men, blacks on whites, old with young, pets on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a swamp of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like brothers, so I was stuck to Staci. I seemed like I had to indulge her. I needed to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were always about someone she understood or became aware of, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. I seemed like she was simply daydreaming out loud, and I thought she was a extremely ill woman. What I discovered especially disturbing was that her disgusting dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an invading infection, pushing my easy, relatively tidy musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the included entertainer. I stopped my monthly practice of masturbating in the shower utilizing a water wand, and began a everyday session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout your home. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that concept in my head.

Most of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, providing me pedicures, massaging me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We went shopping for clothing a terrific deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet supervisor. I wore only short gowns at Staci's persistence. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the best female type. She encouraged me I was beautiful to the severe, specifically in between my legs. This took some convincing, however she quickly had me comfy even when languishing before her with my legs broad apart for a vaginal shave or the vaginal area variation of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure started with a scented douche and included a close shave, a clitty suck to orgasm, a extensive hot oil massage, and ended with a dab of fragrance. I liked her manicures, but concealing the result from my spouse was difficult. My very first cunnicure prompted 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 discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get proof positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never ever been born. He had never threatened me with divorce. I might just picture what wanting I 'd never ever been born required. I seriously questioned he would physically hurt me, but the idea never left my mind. I thought he might require me to undergo a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Perhaps, 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, but 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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