How does one pay up their true up lovemaking ?

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

How does one give up lifespan for love ?

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A false bittersweet bye-bye. Claude E. Shannon had known it when she smiled and kissed mollie. The two fair sex had known, and loved each other for a ten, and their pact had held. Through bad spousal relationship and abusive boyfriends ; through the initiative tentative geographic expedition of their 'other slope'; and now through this.

'' Never leave your face. '' Shannon whispered as she caressed molly 's haircloth. A single tear fell to splash on the bridge of the other woman 's nose, but she paid it no notification. Shannon swallowed.

Her beloved was gone. Now she must accompany. It was their pact.

Weak, Shannon slumped backwards into the chairperson behind her. quiet hung in the room as if Molly 's tone waited, holding her breath.

She had been so beautiful and full of lifetime. 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 cancer had returned, `` Fuck the hospital. I 'll direct it as it comes, and die at base if I have to. ``

She 'd had to. There, just this dawning on their sofa. They 'd both do it 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.

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

Shannon could still feel the delight of the break of the day like a dim after-taste of a half-remembered fineness. She could almost taste mollie on her lips.

'' roll in the hay me. '' mollie had whispered afterwards, `` This afternoon. Promise ? ``

Claude E. Shannon had promised. It was afternoon. Molly lay waiting.

Her fan lay as if asleep on the sofa. Only the windlessness of her dresser deceive her rightful state. After breakfast she 'd experience dressed in her dearie suite. molly was zippo if fashionable-and ironic. She had dressed all in black, from her bra and step-in, to her black heels and matching stockings.

Shannon moved to the couch and sat beside her honey. There was a mild ammonium hydroxide tang in the air. molly 's bladder had released its contents when she died. A tentatively curious hand slid up mollie 's inside thigh, across the silky stockings to her now mute fork. Shannon felt herself grow wet as her fingers pushed Molly 's scanty aside and probed her buff 's vagina.

Molly was still warm, and wet not just with piss. Claude Shannon smiled. Molly must induce been imagining this moment. A Solanum dulcamara goodbye.

Shannon stood and undo her bathrobe. The scars that Phil had left with his cigarettes were slight mottles on her shapely belly and thighs. She 'd never felt comfortable in her nakedness except with Molly. It was only right for her to catch some Z's with Molly-now and forever-in the manner that mollie preferred.

Slowly, gently, Claude E. Shannon unbuttoned molly 's blouse to reveal her black silk bra beneath. Practiced fingers undid the clasps, and the garment fell away to reveal the liberal bend of one titty, and the scarred ball of a mastectomy. Shannon gingerly touched the scratch. Molly-had she been here-would have laughed and pressed her lovers hand to the missing breast.

'' See, cipher to hide. '' Molly would have joked. Shannon, choked with tears, lay her head on molly 's chest and wept.

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

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

'' Hurry. '' Molly whispered, `` We need a serious fucking. ``

Claude Shannon giggled and kissed the dead woman 's breast again. Her knife caressed the nipple and played along the behind curve of Molly 's one well tit. She could almost see her moan.

Her hired man were groping again. She pushed Molly 's black clad ramification apart and placed one finger's breadth in her cunt. The other manus was busy with Shannon 's own clit. Her succus were flowing now, running down her leg in short rivulets and dripping onto Molly 's skirt.

With a fervency burning inside her, Claude Shannon grabbed molly 's bird and hiked it up over her hips. Pulling down the idle woman 's pantie she exposed her beautiful blonde President Bush. It glistened with moisture, but Shannon did n't manage. She lowered herself to press against her loved, gyrating and shifting her hip. Ever contact between their heap was rapture, and Claude Elwood Shannon could feel the orgasm building.

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

'' roll in the hay me. '' Molly whispered.

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

'' Fuck me. '' Molly whispered.

Shannon fucked mollie like only another womanhood could.

#

The landlady liked both molly and Claude Shannon, but never really understood their lifestyle. Her husband called them 'fucking dyke'and would laugh at his own joke. She thought they were nice peeress who 'd had bad experiences with men. A woman could n't love another charwoman the Lapplander way a cleaning woman 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 weather sheet. molly was arranged peacefully, dressed in her very best black suite-with a few blatant stains-and Shannon lay beside her, wearing zilch but a contented smile. The two were holding hands.

A woman ca n't make love a woman the way a adult female loves a man.

It may be different, but its still love.

And it was more right than life story or death .