Killing Beauty - Sex Stories

Killing Beauty

... staggering and mind-blowing manner. I fell for him on our first encounter; and as I behaved a little bit stupid and yet strangely different from all the other girls, he hesitated on whether to go for me or not to. When other guys appeared interested and began making moves on me, he acted fast for fear of losing me. I had to go about being unyielding and a little bit inane, just to give him a cruel and laborious time. Which I sure did.” The story altered. “I remember the day he died. The day the curse hit and destroyed him. I was four months pregnant with you, Corinne. And we were staying together. We had just moved in and every time I did feel that our happiness was short-lived and going nowhere. I couldn’t help it. There were nights when I woke up weeping and crying and your father would be waked by my noise and hug and shush me and ask what the problem was. I just couldn’t tell him. There was no way for me to figure out how I was going to let out things to him. How was I supposed to tell a man I deeply and sincerely loved that he was soon going to be dead for loving and sticking on to me?” In my bedroom, there are pictures of Shawn Kerr. He looks just like me in some way. I have light brown hair, black eyes, and golden-colored skin. That is what Shawn precisely had. But then, I look more like my mother. Yolanda herself is brown-haired, brown-eyed and pale-skinned. I share more of her facial symmetry and body shapeliness and curves. We are very much alike. The morning ...

... following my nightmare, on Tuesday 14 August 2018, I woke up at five to strive and withstand the temptation and almost overpowering feeling to head back to bed and sleep again. I went on to sit in the living room, close to the still afire burning place, where I tossed in a handful of stony-like but long-burning wood, and here, I fetched the diary that I had carried with me and began scribbling the words: Yolanda and I moved here to Svetlana, Nebraska, two days ago. The town is this big and wonderful and amazing; the people here have been good and kindly to us; our neighbors always check in to bring us gifts and presents of all sorts. There is this funny thing though. Ninety per cent of my presents are from boys. Or men I should rather specify. Young men. Two boys from our neighboring house, Marion and Lev Meyer, who are brothers, I must what’s more add, brought me my current alarm clock and newly-shopped romance novels and an enormous blank diary that I have to fill in and a glittery-like pen that scrawls with shining and glimmering ink and wholly nice- looking teddy bears and sweet-most and pretty flowers and a nice and very new pair of jeans and—their biggest and final present, an old-dated but still functioning and superbly operative laptop. Marion said that it belonged to him and he was giving it over to me as it had a highly effective and powerful browser with which I would surf the net and research up any assignment that I might have. Words cannot adequately express my ...