Killing Beauty - Sex Stories

Killing Beauty

... gratitude to these two adorable and loving brothers. Charlie Wooding, the blond boy from next door, brought me blooming and freshly flowers and a nice new hat and a cake written ‘Welcome Nevada and Yolanda to Svetlana,’ which he said his grandmother, Sally Wooding, had supposedly baked. It was so sweet and tasty and pleasant that I had not tasted anything marvelous like it before. Edward Chen, the leggy and well-built and highly handsome bachelor from four houses down the street, brought me an expensive perfume he had picked for me while on a recent trip to Spain, and which he said he had bought from one of the Spanish royal family members themselves. He showed me photos of himself in Spain and this Maria Theresa Castillo woman whom he said was married to a grandchild of the Queen of Spain Herself. She was holding the perfume itself and smiling at the camera happily, appropriately dressed in a very expensive and far-reaching yellow dress that had an Indian look and elegance to it. On top of that, Edward brought me paintings and cookers and cutlery and carvings and dresses and boots from Spain itself! Everything he handed me screamed, “Spanish! Spanish! Spanish! And more Spanish!” I will end here. Ten other men brought me diverse and unlike things. I cannot list them all or else my diary would be filled up and…become something else rather alien and outlandish. And I don’t want that to happen. This is strictly a diary. Not some detail-everything-to-the- very-last-bits sort of ...

... book. No way! That said and made clear, I am still muchly grateful and indebted to everyone who have brought me something from the depths and very bottom of their hearts, I fathom. Diary, goodbye! I had an interview at nine. At Brock University, where I wanted to study Fashion and Design. Not to become a model specifically. Clothes designing and artifice were my thing and talent. I habitually dreamt that one day I would come to be this fortunate and lucky and prosperous designer with my very own corporation and list of celebrities endorsed. But then for that to happen, I had to work very, very, very and sincerely hard. Nothing was going to come on a silver plate, free and un-worked-for. Not in this racking and toilsome world of ours. Not here. After an effortless and slight warm showering, I stepped back into my bedroom, half-naked and clothed with a long white towel. By half-naked I do not mean that all my breasts were uncovered and denuded. I know. In our house Yolanda and I were the only living things around. Living humans to be point-on. Females exclusively. Who would care if we looked at each other naked? But then, ever since we had moved in here, we were occasionally bombarded with endless knocks and visits from our male neighbors. Not all of them being bachelors and unmarried. It was best that we put on something after washing, just so certain occurrences would not come about by accident. Before my tall mirror—yes, I still disliked enormous mirrors, but in this case, I ...