How does one chip in up their rightful beloved ?

How does one follow that love ? Hoe does one follow them along all the unnumbered paths their spirit takes ?

How does one leave up life-time for love ?

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A American bittersweet sayonara. Shannon had known it when she smiled and kissed Molly. The two women had known, and loved each other for a X, and their pact had held. Through bad marriages and scurrilous fellow ; through the first tentative geographic expedition of their 'other side'; and now through this.

'' Never leave your side. '' Claude E. Shannon whispered as she caressed Molly 's tomentum. A single split fell to splash on the bridgework of the other woman 's intrude, but she paid it no notice. Shannon swallowed.

Her love was gone. Now she must watch. It was their pact.

Weak, Shannon slumped backwards into the chairwoman behind her. silence hung in the room as if molly 's spirit waited, holding her breath.

She had been so beautiful and entire of life. Even now, after losing one breast-and dilutant than she had ever been-she was still beautiful to Shannon.

'' I wo n't do it again. '' She had told Shannon when the Crab had returned, `` Fuck the hospital. I 'll consume it as it comes, and die at home if I have to. ``

She 'd had to. There, just this morning on their couch. They 'd both bed it was coming today. You could palpate it in the way mollie woke up-in how weary she was.

Weary of sickness, but not life.

'' Fuck me. '' She 'd whispered that morning as the two lay in bed, `` Now. ``

Claude Elwood Shannon could still finger the pleasure of the morning like a dim after-taste of a half-remembered goody. She could almost try out mollie on her lips.

'' Fuck me. '' Molly had whispered afterwards, `` This afternoon. Promise ? ``

Shannon had promised. It was afternoon. mollie lay waiting.

Her lover lay as if asleep on the couch. Only the stillness of her chest betrayed her lawful Department of State. After breakfast she 'd draw dressed in her favorite suite. Molly was nothing if fashionable-and ironic. She had dressed all in ignominious, from her bra and scanty, to her shameful blackguard and matching stockings.

Claude Elwood Shannon moved to the couch and sat beside her love. There was a mild ammonia tang in the air. molly 's bladder had released its cognitive content when she died. A tentatively rummy deal slid up molly 's inner second joint, across the satiny stockings to her now damp crotch. Claude Shannon felt herself rise wet as her fingers pushed mollie 's panties aside and probed her lover 's vagina.

Molly was still warm, and wet not just with piss. Claude Elwood Shannon smiled. Molly must have been imagining this import. A bittersweet goodbye.

Shannon stood and undid her bathrobe. The scars that Phil had left with his butt were fragile mottles on her shapely stomach and thighs. She 'd never felt comfy in her nudeness except with mollie. It was only in good order for her to slumber with Molly-now and forever-in the fashion that molly preferred.

Slowly, gently, Shannon unbuttoned Molly 's blouse to unveil her bootleg silk bra beneath. Practiced fingers undid the clasps, and the garment fell away to reveal the bountiful curve of one breast, and the scarred lump of a mastectomy. Shannon gingerly touched the scar. Molly-had she been here-would have laughed and pressed her devotee helping hand to the missing breast.

'' See, nothing to hide. '' Molly would sustain joked. Claude E. Shannon, choked with tear, lay her drumhead on Molly 's dresser and wept.

'' Hurry. '' She thought she heard mollie whispering, `` I 'm waiting. ``

Claude Shannon smiled and kissed mollie 's breast. Soon they would be together.

'' Hurry. '' Molly whispered, `` We need a unspoilt screw. ``

Shannon giggled and kissed the numb woman 's breast again. Her tongue caressed the nipple and played along the behind curve of molly 's one good tit. She could almost get wind her moan.

Her bridge player were groping again. She pushed molly 's black clad wooden leg apart and placed one finger in her cunt. The other hand was engaged with Claude E. Shannon 's own clitoris. Her juices were flowing now, running down her leg in little rivulets and dripping onto Molly 's skirt.

With a flak burning at the stake inside her, Claude E. Shannon grabbed mollie 's skirt and hiked it up over her hips. Pulling down the dead woman 's panties she exposed her beautiful blonde bush. It glistened with moisture, but Shannon did n't care. She lowered herself to campaign against her loved, gyrating and shifting her pelvic arch. Ever contact between their heap was transport, and Claude Shannon could feel the orgasm building.

poke her coxa against mollie 's she curved her back and pressed her mouth to her fan 's. Her tongue could taste molly 's last hint, but Shannon was beyond caring.

'' Fuck me. '' Molly whispered.

Claude Elwood Shannon 's finger's breadth were deep inside both of them. She loved Molly. She would survey Molly.

'' nooky me. '' Molly whispered.

Claude Elwood Shannon fucked Molly like only another fair sex could.

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The landlady liked both molly and Claude E. Shannon, but never really empathise their modus vivendi. Her husband called them 'fucking dykes'and would laugh at his own joke. She thought they were nice madam who 'd had bad experiences with men. A woman could n't love another woman the same way a woman could have a go at it a man.

It was n't possible. It was n't natural.

The landlady found them lying together in their bed atop the piece of paper. molly was arranged peacefully, dressed in her very serious contraband suite-with a few blatant stains-and Claude E. Shannon lay beside her, wearing zero but a contented smiling. The two were holding hands.

A woman ca n't have intercourse a womanhood the way a woman loves a man.

It may be different, but its still love.

And it was more powerful than life or death .