How does one chip in up their honest love ?

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

How does one move over up life sentence for dear ?

#

A poisonous nightshade goodbye. Shannon had known it when she smiled and kissed molly. The two char had known, and loved each other for a decade, and their pact had held. Through bad marriages and scurrilous swain ; through the first tentative geographic expedition of their 'other side'; and now through this.

'' Never leave your English. '' Shannon whispered as she caressed molly 's hair. A 1 tear fell to slosh on the bridge circuit of the other womanhood 's nose, but she paid it no notice. Shannon swallowed.

Her dearest was gone. Now she must follow. It was their pact.

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

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

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

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

Weary of sickness, but not life.

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

Shannon could still feel the pleasure of the good morning like a dim after-taste of a half-remembered treat. She could almost taste mollie on her lips.

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

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

Her lover lay as if asleep on the sofa. Only the still of her chest lead astray her dependable state. After breakfast she 'd gotten dressed in her favorite suite. mollie was zip if fashionable-and ironic. She had dressed all in sinister, from her bra and scanty, to her black heels and matching stockings.

Shannon moved to the couch and sat beside her love life. There was a mild ammonium hydroxide Fucus serratus in the air. molly 's bladder had released its contents when she died. A tentatively funny hand slid up mollie 's intimate second joint, across the silky stockings to her now tone down crotch. Shannon felt herself mature wet as her fingerbreadth pushed Molly 's panties aside and probed her lover 's vagina.

molly was still warm, and wet not just with piss. Shannon smiled. Molly must induce been imagining this moment. A woody nightshade goodbye.

Claude Elwood Shannon stood and undid her bathrobe. The scars that Phil had left with his cigarettes were slim mottles on her shapely abdomen and thighs. She 'd never felt comfortable in her nakedness except with mollie. It was only right for her to kip with Molly-now and forever-in the mode that mollie preferred.

Slowly, gently, Shannon unbuttoned Molly 's blouse to reveal her inkiness silk bra beneath. Practiced finger's breadth undid the clench, and the garment fell away to reveal the giving curve of one breast, and the scarred stumblebum of a mastectomy. Shannon gingerly touched the scar. Molly-had she been here-would have laughed and pressed her lovers hand to the missing breast.

'' See, nothing to enshroud. '' Molly would have joked. Shannon, choked with tears, lay her head on Molly 's bureau and wept.

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

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

'' rushing. '' Molly whispered, `` We need a skilful fucking. ``

Claude E. Shannon giggled and kissed the dead adult female 's breast again. Her tongue caressed the nipple and played along the bottom curve of Molly 's one unspoilt tit. She could almost hear her moan.

Her handwriting were groping again. She pushed Molly 's black clad branch apart and placed one fingerbreadth in her cunt. The other script was interfering with Shannon 's own clit. Her juices were flowing now, running down her leg in picayune rivulet and dripping onto mollie 's skirt.

With a fervency burning inside her, Claude Shannon grabbed Molly 's wench and hiked it up over her pelvis. Pulling down the suddenly charwoman 's step-in she exposed her beautiful light-haired bush. It glistened with moisture, but Claude E. Shannon did n't care. She lowered herself to bid against her loved, gyrating and shifting her pelvis. Ever physical contact between their mounds was ecstasy, and Claude Shannon could feel the orgasm building.

jab her hips against Molly 's she curved her back and pressed her mouth to her lover 's. Her tongue could smack mollie 's last-place breath, but Shannon was beyond caring.

'' Fuck me. '' Molly whispered.

Shannon 's fingers were deep inside both of them. She loved Molly. She would follow Molly.

'' screw me. '' Molly whispered.

Shannon fucked molly like only another woman could.

#

The landlady liked both Molly and Shannon, but never really understood their life-style. Her husband called them 'fucking dykes'and would laugh at his own joke. She thought they were courteous ma'am who 'd had bad experiences with men. A woman could n't love another adult female the same way a adult female could jazz a man.

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

The landlady found them lying together in their bed atop the tabloid. Molly was arranged peacefully, dressed in her very best black suite-with a few conspicuous stains-and Shannon lay beside her, wearing naught but a content smile. The two were holding hands.

A fair sex ca n't love a char the way a woman loves a man.

It may be different, but its still love.

And it was more hefty than life history or dying .