Killing Beauty - Sex Stories

Killing Beauty

... about Zane. These days, ever since I had become so humiliated and depressed and chilled about where my life was going, I had been experiencing frequent and endless and incessant nightmares. Nightmares about I myself wedding with fire-winged and hellish-looking demons and devils; nightmares about enraged and murderous-looking mobs and throngs of people swarming over me and chasing me and stoning and hitting and beating me up and calling me a witch sent straight from the devil himself; nightmares about the entire town gossiping and prattling and gibbering about how cursed I had been in killing any man that happened to be drawn in toward me. Yolanda and I have kept this a secret to ourselves. That we are beautiful but cursed. No one else apart from the two of us knows our condition; not our friends or neighbors. We always do what we can to avoid men that become interested in us. If we were so inconsiderate and unmindful—sure, just like in my nightmare—the whole town would without doubt know about our curse and go on to gabble and gossip and dish on the dirt to others about us. And what would we do from there? Nothing but move away to some…far away town or place? Yolanda and I have switched towns like mad. Endlessly even. Since I met Zane two years ago, we have relocated more than fifteen times. At least seven times in a distinct and separate year. This curse, it has just made our lives so miserable and a painful living hell altogether. I have met numerous and wonderful very ...

... good-looking boys. Boys that I wished I had the time and effort to get to know them much better and familiarize with them. Boys I would have fallen in love with so helplessly had I tarried longer in their reach and presence. But then it was for the better that I stayed away from them and move entirely out of their promising lives. I would do nothing but ruin and wreck their lives for them. Yolanda met my father, Shawn, when she was at university. She studied Literature (bachelor’s degree) and she got a masters and a PHD in Creative Writing and Economics. All her life, she has wanted to be a published writer and author altogether. But she fears what would come off her life if she produces something successful and popular enough to unravel out our actual private life and the secrets that we are drawing a veil on. To her, fame and popularity can be quite detrimental. Very much indeed. Like me in times past, she cast away all the rules and went on pursuing my father. No, not chasing and stalking and bugging him up to marry and wed her. She hanged out in places where he was fond of dropping by with the hopes that he would…see her. He did! I remember the words Yolanda herself used that other day she was recounting to me about how the two of them had met up. “Your father, he was the lucky and winning womanizer. Every month, he had to court and take to bed a different girl. It was a game and contest that he and his shallow-minded peers played. And he played it so well and in such a ...