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3 months back, I was your everyday homemaker and mom of 3-- two young boys, 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 throughout the street from Staci and Joe.
Staci ended my monotony and made me what I am today. Sex is all I think about, and no perversion turns me off.
In fantasy, I wanted everybody to know the new me. In reality, I didn't want to promote that fact, however I had no desire to reverse the self-destructive course Staci had me on.
I was like the addict that knows where the dependency will lead, but doesn't want aid. I feared my sexual addiction would essentially damage my marital relationship. I 'd lose my children and possibly wind up in prison. I couldn't help that. Since the sex was that excellent, the dangers outweighed the repercussions. I love Staci for what she's done. 8 months of client prodding has actually paid off for both me and Staci. Staci adored me from our very first conference. Her husband is a cops detective, so Max and Joe have the law in common. 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, mom's fucking sons, fathers raping young children, women having sex with animals, mothers viewing dirty old men molest their children and getting off on it, spouses taking on troops of horny males, blacks on whites, old with young, canines on little ladies. She had my head swimming in a overload of perverse sex. Max and Joe got along like bros, so I was stuck with Staci. I seemed like I needed to indulge her. I had to listen to her stories and make fun of her jokes. Her stories were constantly about someone she knew or became aware of, never about anything she had any direct understanding of. I seemed like she was just fantasizing aloud, and I believed she was a really ill lady. What I discovered particularly disturbing was that her repellent fantasies worked their way into my tame fantasies like an getting into infection, pressing my basic, reasonably clean musings of romantic love out replacing them with fuck and suck orgy marathons, frequently with me as the featured performer. I stopped my regular 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, throughout the house. After six months of Staci's stories, I learned how to lick my own pussy. Staci planted that idea in my head.
We didn't constantly sit for stories. The majority of our time together was invested with Staci doting over me, doing my hair and makeup, providing me pedicures, rubbing me, dressing and undressing me constantly. We shopped for clothing a great deal, with Staci making the choices as though she were my closet supervisor. I accepted her and wore what she selected. I let her clear out my closet of all my modest gowns, tossing out every pair of pants I owned. I wore just short gowns at Staci's persistence. I became Staci's live Barbie Doll. When I came to accept my role as a living Barbie Doll, my dull life ended. Staci worshipped my body, every inch of it. According to Staci, I had the perfect female form. She encouraged me I was beautiful to the severe, especially between my legs. This took some convincing, but 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 aromatic douche and included 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 partner 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 alerted me not to cheat. If I ever discover out that you cheated on me. If I ever get evidence favorable or capture you in the act, I'll make you wish you had never ever been born. He had actually never ever threatened me with divorce. I could only envision what wanting I 'd never been born entailed. I seriously doubted he would physically hurt me, but the idea never left my mind. I thought he might require me to go through a breast reduction or a cliterectomy. Staci and I had a excellent laugh at the possibilities, but it was Max's threatening lecture, unusually enough, that launched Staci's crusade to begin me down the roadway of adulterous affairs.
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