Stay Away

This is my first story in Adultfan.net. Please don\'t be too harsh on me… Enjoy!

Story has incest! You were warned! Let\'s begin…

Stay Away
By: K.D.G.S. a.k.a. murasaki09


When I first saw her, she had this same dress on. It was an orange summer dress that complimented her figure perfectly. With those orange sandals and her orange bag, she was a walking bright sun. She had beautiful brown locks, the most expressive green eyes, and a name that fit her very personality: Joy. For many people, she was the sun, indeed. It wasn\'t long before she became my own, too.

During lunchtime, I was always alone. Never did I have any companions. It wasn\'t that no one approached me and tried to befriend me; in fact, many did. But the problem lay with me. I couldn\'t let them near me. I couldn\'t accept their offers; whether they wanted me as a friend or as something more than one. If I ever would\'ve befriended them, they would\'ve regretted ever meeting me at all.

I never really did understand what drew many people to me. Perhaps it was my looks? Was it my aura? My reputation? I never found out… Thus, it wasn\'t surprising when she started eyeing me, thinking I never caught her doing so. When she started talking to me, it wasn\'t a surprise, either. I ignored her. I knew she would be safer that way. But when she started following me around, despite my constant gifts of cold shoulders, I stopped to think.

I remember the first time I ever laughed. It was when she sat down at my usual table, beside me, and told me the corniest joke I have ever heard. At that moment, my heart felt the lightest in my whole life. At that moment, I knew she was the one. At that moment, I knew I had to keep away from her… whatever the costs.

It confused me. Everything confused me. I found myself thinking about her more often. I found myself yearning to laugh again. In short, I grew fond of her. And for the first time in nine years, I cried.

Fondness grew to friendship. Friendship grew to romantic attraction. And dreadfully, attraction grew to love. I noticed that I loved her when I took her hand in mine and instinctively kissed it. I knew she was happy about it. I knew that she knew she finally got to me. I knew that her efforts were rewarded… all those times she smiled at, talked to, wrote to, and hung around a cold wall… All those hadn\'t been in vain for her. I could feel her joy suffocate me and squeeze my heart painfully. At that moment, my world came crashing down on me. Coldly, I let go of her hand and ran home, skipping classes. I didn\'t care about her calls. I didn\'t care about her calls. I didn\'t… I didn\'t care that she ran after me. I didn\'t care that I was going to skip classes for the first time in my life. I only cared about one thing: to keep her safe.

I knew that I counted the days I went out of my way just to avoid her. All in all, they were thirteen: the devil\'s number. I hated that number from then on. Those were thirteen days of catching glimpses of her hurt expression… Thirteen days of seeing her transform from the sun into a black hole… Thirteen days of my own heart\'s yearning. But after that thirteenth day, I broke down. I couldn\'t take it anymore and I approached her.

Surprise and amazement was what I still felt four days after the two of us got together. I was still very surprised that she even let me come back to her. I was surprised that everything was better than before, when we were just friends… I almost even forgot about… But in those four days, I resulted to worse self-mutilation. I couldn\'t stand the guilt of what I did to her… what I pulled her into. When I asked her out, it was like asking her to sign her own death. It was selfish of me… but perhaps, it was the fault of the feeling I had whenever I saw her. I always felt like smiling while near her. I was simply too selfish to let it go. And for that, I paid a lot. It cost me the only thing that ever brought me happiness at all…

Teachers teach you many things. That\'s what they\'re being paid for. I know mine did a good job. If there was one thing that my Religion teacher did right, it was to tell me the things that shaped me into what I am now. \"Obey your parents.\" and \"Love your parents.\" and \"Bringing joy to others is good. What you do unto others, you do unto God…\" And yes, I followed my teacher\'s words. I was, I am, and I will always be obedient to the point of submissiveness.

When I was younger, I knew that my mother loved me. She always told me so, while stroking my left cheek gently and kissing me, while getting out of our bed. She would always give me whiplashes if I was a good boy. At the age of eight, I learned to love pain. The first time she may have whipped or cut me was three days after my seventh birthday. I cried then… the pain was too much… I asked my mom afterwards why she did that. She simply answered: \"Because I love you.\" And so I grew up completely loved… Eating only cookies in the morning and nothing else for the rest of the day… Getting whip lashes that I came to love because I knew that they were how my mom showed me that she loved me… I learned to accept that love is, indeed, painful…

A masochist… you may call me that… I love pain because I love my mom. But I only understood the connection between pain and love when I was ten… that was when my mom told me how I could repay her for all the love she gave me… At first, I didn\'t like it - just like I didn\'t like the whipping at first - but I learned to do it regularly to show my mom that I loved her, too. I went down on her every night. Sometimes, I even entered her whenever she would tell me to. And all the time, she was crying out. It was probably painful for her… Thus, I put two and two together: if you love somebody, you give him or her pain. So, when I was fourteen, and she slit my wrists, my arms, my legs, and I experienced pain for many blissful hours, I wanted to repay her… On our bed, I woke up early and bound her to the bed with wire while she was sleeping. While doing this, I probably woke her up and when she came to her senses, I bathed in the look of pure anticipation in her eyes when she saw the whip and the many knives. I knew she was excited. I could feel her body shivering with pleasure. After many hours of muffled screams and cuts, the bed was soaked red and the room smelled of sex. I was proud of myself. I surely made my mom happy. I just told her how much I love her. She was unconscious when it ended and I was tired, so I lay myself beside her and fell asleep after kissing her lips and licking her blood. With her flavor on my tongue, I fell asleep.

She screamed, too. She thrashed around and the wire cut into her skin, making her whimper. It was just like with my mom. This was the day I had always feared and looked forward to. For love could not exist without pain… And pain was how love was expressed… I had enjoyed it, because her pain was my pain… And I love pain. I had come to love her as much as I loved my mom, thus I showed her how much I loved her. With every drop of her blood and every muffled scream, I made love to her… I made love to her… And afterwards, I held her and fell asleep beside her… And what happened before, happened again…

Now, I am here on the bed, holding her cold, orange-claded corpse… I admire her beauty through the layers of caked up blood… I loved her… And so I gave her what I could. Part of me feels dread, guilt and disgust over what I did… But now, as I stroke her cheek and kiss her lips, I wonder if anyone could ever love me as much as I loved these two women… And as realization hit me and sank, I knew it would never be possible… I cried my heart out… No one could ever love this much… No one… because to live, all of them should stay away…


Please review? Am writing a next story so I need to know if it\'s worth it or my writing sucks… Thanks!

Ja matta!

-Murasaki09