Diogones Wept

Sylvana watched lucidity leave Trevor’s eyes, all their future hopes fading along with it. 

“I’m glad you’re mine.  You’ll always be my queen.”

Those had been her fiancé’s last words.  Her tears crawled like wounded things, carried the taste of death to the corners of her goodbye kiss.  To spend the remainder of his life in her arms was the promise he’d made to her, and so had his vow been honored, even if that remainder had proven far shorter than either could have guessed.

The hex bewitching her cunt continued to punish honesty as Trevor lay dead and cooling beside her.

*****

Ocean’s cock marauded through her ensorcelled orifice as a felon ravages a chapel.  The sweaty bracelet of Sylvana’s legs clung to her paramour.  Time might not heal all wounds, but there were nights, like tonight, when living just didn’t hurt as bad as it had used to.

“No words, hon,” she whispered as their rhythms dueled for supremacy.  Words carried  risks unknown to Ocean.  She wasn’t surprised when he forgot himself.

“You fuck like a goddess,” he hissed, losing himself inside her as his orgasm crescendoed, fueling hers, “I love you and wouldn’t trade what we have for anything in the world.” 

Later she wept as Ocean lay sleeping beside her.  The curse between her thighs continued to favor liars.

*****

The bedeviled woman reached for Sage’s sculpted shoulders and held her beloved artist close against her breasts.  It was more intimacy than she’d known in the three years she’d spent without a lover to embrace.

Her legendry he would live.  This he’d known since first hearing of the woman with the demon-filled cunt, since subsequently contriving to accidentally happen into the occult bookstore she frequented on Greenwich Avenue.  Men who told lies between her legs survived to revisit her bed, or so went the myth.  But pity a truthful soul.

“Tell me your darkest, dirtiest desires,” he said, tasting her nakedness with ravenous hands.

“Lie to me,” Sylvana pleaded, grasping the tumescence tenting the cool satin of her new bedsheets.

Sage whispered in her ear and doubted her legend’s validity no more.

Bio: Anthony Beal's fiction and poetry have appeared in dozens of print and online publications since 2001.  His erotica is influenced by Anais Nin and Gabriel Garcia Marquez.  His recently-released short fiction collection titled Funereal Diseases of the Mind: Fifteen tales of dark erotica is currently on sale at Barnes and Noble.com, Amazon.com, and elsewhere, and receiving favorable reviews.