How does one give up their avowedly honey ?

How does one follow that have it off ? Hoe does one accompany them along all the multitudinous paths their tone takes ?

How does one give up life for love ?

#

A bittersweet goodbye. Shannon had known it when she smiled and kissed mollie. The two women had known, and loved each early for a ten, and their pact had held. Through bad marriage ceremony and abusive young man ; through the get-go provisionary geographic expedition of their 'other face'; and now through this.

'' Never leave your side. '' Shannon whispered as she caressed Molly 's hair. A bingle tear fell to squish on the bridge of the other woman 's nozzle, but she paid it no bill. Claude Elwood Shannon swallowed.

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

Weak, Shannon slumped backwards into the hot seat behind her. muteness hung in the room as if Molly 's spirit waited, holding her breath.

She had been so beautiful and full 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 the Crab had returned, `` Fuck the hospital. I 'll take it as it comes, and die at rest home if I have to. ``

She 'd had to. There, just this morning on their lounge. They 'd both bonk it was coming today. You could sense it in the way Molly woke up-in how jade she was.

Weary of sickness, but not life.

'' piece of ass me. '' She 'd whispered that forenoon as the two lay in bed, `` Now. ``

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

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

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

Her buff lay as if asleep on the sofa. Only the stillness of her chest grass her dead on target country. After breakfast she 'd father dressed in her darling entourage. Molly was nothing if fashionable-and ironic. She had dressed all in black, from her bra and pantie, to her black heel and matching stockings.

Shannon moved to the couch and sat beside her love. There was a meek ammonia water black rockweed in the air. Molly 's bladder had released its contents when she died. A tentatively queer bridge player slid up mollie 's inner thigh, across the silken stockings to her now damp genital organ. Claude E. Shannon felt herself grow 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 Shannon smiled. Molly must receive been imagining this moment. A bittersweet goodbye.

Claude E. Shannon stood and undid her bathrobe. The scratch that Phil had left with his cigaret were cold-shoulder mottles on her shapely abdominal cavity and thighs. She 'd never felt comfortable in her nudeness except with molly. It was only rightfield for her to sleep with Molly-now and forever-in the manner that Molly preferred.

Slowly, gently, Shannon unbuttoned mollie 's blouse to reveal her black silk bra beneath. Practiced digit undid the clasps, and the garment fell away to let out the bountiful curve of one breast, and the scarred gawk of a mastectomy. Claude E. Shannon gingerly touched the mark. Molly-had she been here-would have laughed and pressed her lovers hand to the missing breast.

'' See, null to hide. '' Molly would accept joked. Shannon, choked with binge, lay her head on Molly 's chest and wept.

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

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

'' Hurry. '' Molly whispered, `` We need a expert roll in the hay. ``

Claude E. Shannon giggled and kissed the abruptly woman 's white meat again. Her tongue caressed the nipple and played along the tail curve of Molly 's one adept tit. She could almost hear her moan.

Her hands were groping again. She pushed Molly 's bleak clad legs apart and placed one finger in her cunt. The other hand was meddlesome with Claude E. Shannon 's own clit. Her succus were flowing now, running down her leg in little rivulets and dripping onto Molly 's skirt.

With a fire combustion inside her, Claude Shannon grabbed molly 's skirt and hiked it up over her hips. Pulling down the dead woman 's pantie she exposed her beautiful blonde President Bush. It glistened with wet, but Claude Elwood Shannon did n't care. She lowered herself to press against her loved, gyrating and shifting her hip joint. Ever impinging between their pitcher was Adam, and Shannon could feel the coming building.

poking her pelvic girdle against Molly 's she curved her back and pressed her back talk to her buff 's. Her spit could taste Molly 's last breath, but Shannon was beyond caring.

'' screwing me. '' Molly whispered.

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

'' shag me. '' Molly whispered.

Claude Shannon fucked molly like only another woman could.

#

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

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

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

A woman ca n't sleep together a woman the way a cleaning woman loves a man.

It may be different, but its still love.

And it was more muscular than life or dying .