How does one pass on up their confessedly love ?

How does one follow that eff ? Hoe does one follow them along all the myriad paths their spirit takes ?

How does one consecrate up life for sexual love ?

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A bittersweet auf wiedersehen. Shannon had known it when she smiled and kissed Molly. The two womanhood had known, and loved each other for a decade, and their pact had held. Through bad spousal relationship and abusive boyfriends ; through the first tentative explorations of their 'other side'; and now through this.

'' Never leave your side. '' Claude Elwood Shannon whispered as she caressed Molly 's hair. A I tear fell to splash on the bridge deck of the other fair sex 's horn in, but she paid it no posting. Shannon swallowed.

Her sexual love was gone. Now she must fall out. It was their pact.

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

She had been so beautiful and full of animation. 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 Claude E. Shannon when the malignant neoplastic disease had returned, `` Fuck the hospital. I 'll postulate it as it comes, and die at home plate if I have to. ``

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

Weary of nausea, but not life.

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

Shannon could still finger the pleasance of the daybreak like a dim after-taste of a half-remembered fineness. She could almost taste mollie on her lips.

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

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

Her buff lay as if asleep on the couch. Only the stillness of her chest betrayed her true up state. After breakfast she 'd let dressed in her preferred entourage. Molly was nothing if fashionable-and ironic. She had dressed all in grim, from her bra and panties, to her smutty heels and matching stockings.

Shannon moved to the lounge and sat beside her lovemaking. There was a mild ammonia tang in the air. mollie 's vesica had released its contents when she died. A tentatively curious paw slid up Molly 's inner thigh, across the silky stockings to her now dampen privates. Claude Elwood Shannon felt herself grow wet as her fingerbreadth pushed Molly 's pantie aside and probed her buff 's vagina.

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

Shannon stood and undid her bathrobe. The scars that Phil had left with his cigarettes were cold-shoulder mottles on her shapely abdomen and thighs. She 'd never felt comfortable in her nudeness except with Molly. It was only right for her to slumber with Molly-now and forever-in the manner that Molly preferred.

Slowly, gently, Shannon unbuttoned mollie 's blouse to disclose her black-market silk bra beneath. Practiced fingers undid the grip, and the garment fell away to disclose the handsome curve of one white meat, and the scar 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 hide. '' Molly would hold joked. Claude E. Shannon, choked with tears, lay her drumhead on mollie 's bureau and wept.

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

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

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

Claude Elwood Shannon giggled and kissed the dead cleaning lady 's titty again. Her tongue caressed the nipple and played along the bottom curve of mollie 's one just tit. She could almost learn her moan.

Her work force were groping again. She pushed Molly 's Black clad legs apart and placed one finger's breadth in her twat. The other hand was busy with Claude Shannon 's own clit. Her juice were flowing now, running down her leg in slight rivulets and dripping onto Molly 's skirt.

With a fervidness burning inside her, Claude E. Shannon grabbed Molly 's skirt and hiked it up over her pelvic girdle. Pulling down the stagnant woman 's pantie she exposed her beautiful blonde bush. It glistened with moisture, but Claude Elwood Shannon did n't care. She lowered herself to weigh against her loved, gyrating and shifting her hips. Ever inter-group communication between their cumulation was exaltation, and Shannon could feel the orgasm building.

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

'' Fuck me. '' Molly whispered.

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

'' Fuck me. '' Molly whispered.

Shannon fucked Molly like only another cleaning lady could.

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The landlady liked both molly and Claude Elwood Shannon, but never really empathize their lifestyle. Her married man called them 'fucking dykes'and would laugh at his own joke. She thought they were prissy ladies who 'd had bad experiences with men. A woman could n't screw another cleaning lady the Sami way a woman could make love a man.

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

The landlady found them lying together in their bed atop the rag. Molly was arranged peacefully, dressed in her very skillful black suite-with a few conspicuous stains-and Shannon lay beside her, wearing nothing but a content smile. The two were holding hands.

A woman ca n't eff a woman the way a cleaning lady loves a man.

It may be unlike, but its still love.

And it was more potent than life sentence or death .