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Three months ago, I was your everyday housewife and mother 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 would have had we not moved across the street from Staci and Joe.
The life of a housewife with all kids in school is boring to the extreme. Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. I easily confess I am a sex junkie, a whore, a slut. Sex is all I consider, and no perversion turns me off. I want my sex down and unclean, disgusting and unclean .
In dream, I wanted everybody to understand the brand-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, however does not want aid. The threats surpassed the consequences because the sex was that good. I like Staci for what she's done. Eight months of client prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci loved me from our very first meeting. Her other half is a police investigator, so Max and Joe have the law in common. Staci and I had nothing in common.
I 'd never ever heard such shocking and disgusting things in my life: S&M piss-freak orgies, mother's fucking kids, fathers raping young children, women having sex with animals, moms watching dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, other halves taking on soldiers of randy men, blacks on whites, old with young, pets 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 to Staci. I felt like I needed to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and laugh at her jokes. Her stories were constantly about someone she knew or became aware of, never ever about anything she had any direct understanding of. I seemed like she was just fantasizing out loud, and I believed she was a very ill female. What I discovered especially troubling was that her disgusting dreams worked their way into my tame fantasies like an attacking virus, pressing my basic, reasonably clean visions of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and draw orgy marathons, frequently with me as the included entertainer. I stopped my regular monthly practice of masturbating in the shower using a water wand, and started a day-to-day session of self-abuse, sticking anything phallic up my cunt or ass, throughout the house. After six months of Staci's stories, I found out 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 give it a try. I almost broke my back in the attempt, but a simple self-fuck with cucumbers or my child's hair brush deal with was no longer enough.
We didn't always sit for stories. The majority of our time together was spent with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and cosmetics, offering me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We bought clothing a lot, with Staci making the selections as though she were my wardrobe manager. I accepted her and wore what she chose. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest dresses, tossing out every set of trousers I owned. I wore only short dresses at Staci's persistence. I ended up being Staci's live Barbie Doll. My boring life ended when I concerned accept my role as a living Barbie Doll. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female form. I have constantly thought of myself as being too short, too slim, too hippy, and too top-heavy. I believed of the female genitalia as a nasty fracture next to a shit hole. She convinced me I was gorgeous to the severe, specifically in between my legs. This took some convincing, but she soon had me comfy even when suffering before her with my legs large apart for a vaginal shave or the vagina version of a pedicure-- a cunniecure as she called it. A cannelure began with a fragrant douche and involved 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 hiding the arise from my partner was impossible. My first cunnicure prompted Max to sit me down for a stern lecture. In the early days of our marriage, Max alerted me not to cheat. If I ever find out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence positive or capture you in the act, I'll make you wish you had actually never ever been born. That was it. I simply nodded my understanding, however I didn't rather understand. He didn't elaborate on what he 'd do exactly. Max wasn't the type to ever strike a female. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I could just envision what wanting I 'd never ever been born required. Max is a big male, a male of John Wayne stature who might snap my back with one hand. I seriously questioned he would physically hurt me, however the idea never ever left my mind. I thought he might require me to go through a breast decrease or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a great laugh at the possibilities, however it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that released Staci's crusade to begin me down the road of adulterous affairs.
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