The Last Night

Filing into the large room I am greeted by familiar and smiling faces. Hands shoot forth to shake mine while others wrap around me to pull me to them in a warm embrace. Uncomfortably, I return each handshake or hug with one of my own. I don’t want to be here. But you would want me here, wouldn’t you? We would both be here if you could have managed to come.

Questioning gazes fall on my person. I know their thoughts, many too afraid to ask. They all want to know where you are. “Where is Stephaney?” they all want to ask. I can feel it.

Should I tell them? They can't know about us...how much in love we were. No one can. It was our moment. Many of them think they know about us. We were the talk of our high school, after all. Everyone wanted to know if we were “doing it” or if we had “gone all the way”. They couldn’t understand our love, though. They could never understand that we were saving ourselves – our moment - for that special day, not wanting our first time to be in a car or a seedy motel room. We wanted it to be special.

I wonder if they still wonder if we ever “went all the way” back then. Do they still wonder about our first time? Could they ever understand why we waited until after graduation, for a time when we could be together without fear of interruption or hurried tackiness? I doubt it. They were all in a hurry to lose their virginity. We were in a hurry to spend our lives and love with each other. Yes, we “did it”. But we waited for the right time and place. 

It was a hot summer night when we first made love. I remember shivering despite our sweat - or maybe because of it. I was clumsy, scared. I fumbled with the small buttons on your blouse, snapping one off in my slowed haste. You laughed and kissed the tip of my nose, easing my nerves. I laughed too. A sudden confidence took me by surprise and I ripped your blouse open, scattering buttons to "tick, tick, tick" on the hardwood floor. You pulled me against you, embracing me and filling my mouth with words of your love.

I was hard, my cock waiting for the inevitable. Still, I was scared, shivering against your warm and goose bump covered body. I knew you were scared too. How could you not be scared? But we were in love and we were together. That was all that mattered.

I undressed slowly as I could, my still buttoned shirt cuffs getting caught on my wrists. You caught my wrist as I flailed about, attempting to free myself from the bedeviled shirt. Slowly, you slid your tiny fingers between the fabric and pulled, sending the offending buttons aloft. We laughed at the "tick, tick, tick" of the buttons as they scattered across the floor. We listened to the last button, as it rolled across the floor, settling, finally, into it’s final rotations before coming to rest.

At last, we were both naked. I was on top of you, my cock ready and wanting. Your legs spread slightly, allowing me to progress. "I'm sorry", I whispered, still fumbling to gain entrance to your secrets.

“Shhh” you whispered, our eyes locked together. Then you smiled at me, sliding your hand down between us to guide me into you. Slowly, I found my way into the moistness between your legs. A moment of pain crossed your face and I hesitated, fearful that I had hurt you. Then you smiled and kissed me, assuring me. Then, slowly, we began thrusting into each other, our bodies taking over.

When it was over, I was humiliated and elated. I had been inside of you, the love of my life, but I had not brought you satisfaction, climaxing in mere minutes. I looked into your eyes, afraid of what I might see. But you, in your goodness, were beaming a smile of understanding. You understood. But you always understood.

We made love again that night. This time, we made love under the moonlit night, in the backyard. This time I did not face humiliation, lasting far longer than before. I can still hear your moans as I rocked into you, bringing you to climax as I had wanted to so badly.

"Where is Stephaney?" asks a woman with a familiar face. "You two were so cute together. I heard you got married."

“Yes we were married,” I tell her. “We were married in October, the year after graduation. It was a small affair; family only.”

She asks a dozen questions before someone else catches her attention. “Yes, we did save something for our honeymoon” I tell her.

She wants to know more. She wants things that are private and best left secret. So I answer a few questions. But I don’t tell her everything. I don’t tell her how our wedding night was the first night I tasted you. I don’t tell her how you wanted to save that thrill for our wedding night.

I can still see the excited look on your face as the moment approached. There was a fire in your eyes, even as there was fear. I can’t know why you were afraid, only that you were.  You even pulled your thighs together as I slid between them to take my first taste of you.

It was only after my soft caresses against you that you parted your legs enough for me to slip between. You were shivering and tense, the fear of the unknown filling you, until the first few flicks of my tongue against the soft skin of your inner thigh. 

I was slow and deliberate, teasing you. I sucked and kneaded the softness of your flesh, threatening at the inevitable. The few threats I made to slide further up your thigh met with resistance, your thighs closing slightly, gasps escaping your lips.

Finally, sensing your readiness, I slid myself upwards, my tongue grazing and flicking as I worked towards my goal. Then, for the first time, I tasted the sweetly tart moistness that flowed from between your legs.

Moaning with my first taste, you arched your back and put your hands to the back of my head, urging me on. I flicked my tongue, experimentally, trying to find your most sensitive areas. Soon, my licking became lapping and probing. Then I found myself sucking and nibbling, my teeth lightly nipping at your delicate parts.

You moaned continuously, pushing my head into you, your body undulating against my mouth. You were frantic, filling me with a strange urgency to bring forth new sounds from your lips.

Finally, after so many minutes of probing for your most sensitive area, I had found it. With that finding I your hands tensed, holding me steady by the hair. The pain was intense but I cared not, for I had found your secret and only cared to bring you satisfaction. In mere minutes you were screaming, your body thrashing. All the while you held me to you.

I was dejected when you pushed me from you, fearing I had done something terrible. But when I looked up to your face I saw you smiling and out of breath, eying me dreamily. I knew then that I had not erred.

"That was marvelous, baby,” you said to me. And as I slid up into your arms you fell into a deep slumber.

"Where is Stephaney?" a man asks. "Aren't you two together anymore?"

“Yes, we are together” I tell him. “We are always together, even when we are apart.”

He looks at me quizzically, not understanding what I said. Or, maybe he does understand. Maybe his quizzical look was one of wonder. Few people experience what we share.

“That Stephaney,” he says, “she was a wild one. I remember her showing up to graduation wearing a bikini under her gown.”

If he only knew how wild you really were. I imagine he would cringe at your “wild” side. I think most people would. Most people aren’t as secure as you are. Most people don’t have your electricity and life, your quest for the new and unexplored.

Maybe I should tell him how wild you really are. Maybe I should tell him about our first sexual experiments. I am sure he would enjoy it. He lusted after you in high school. Of course, all the boys lusted after you. So did some of the girls.

He was one of those who had always asked me if we ever “did it”. He was always talking about the women who he found attractive and wanted to “bang”.  I’m certain he would think it was “wild” to find that you had a submissive and masochistic side to you.

Perhaps I should tell him the story of how I took your virginity a second time. He would probably sit in wonder if I told him how, one night, as we lay in bed, you mentioned it to me, saying "It could add some more excitement”. Of course I would try it. I had always been curious about it. I had just been too embarrassed to bring it up.

We laughed when we were in the shop buying the needed lubrication. So many brands, all with odd and off putting names. We settled on the one that sounded the least tacky.

When we arrived home we were ready, throwing off our clothes as we made our way to the bedroom. You sucked my cock, bringing me to life as I rubbed the lubrication into your bottom. And finally, our preparations complete, you straddled me and began your decent onto me.

Your eyes tightened and your forehead wrinkled as you sank down onto me, impaling your bottom on my manhood. It was slow and painful, at first. Your nails dug into my chest as you impaled yourself on my cock. At last, the painful entry was complete and you were seated against me.

I was stunned, unable to speak and desperately fighting to hold still. I wanted to move, to thrust into your stretched and pain filled bottom.

I watched your face, eyes closed tightly as you came to grips with the sensation. Your hands finally released their grip on my chest and you began to rock, ever so slowly, on my cock. I wrapped my hands around your waist, encouraging your motion. You never resisted, despite the obvious pain you were suffering.

As with our first time of making love, I was not long to last. In mere moments I filled you with cum, jerking as I climaxed. You screamed out with each jerky thrust, pain filling your being. Still, I came, your pain increasing my lust and pleasure.

When the moment passed you leaned forward, my cock still inside your ass, resting yourself against my chest. Your whispers told me how painful it was. When, at last, you sat up, there were tears in your eyes. My concern was met with a reassuring smile and a soft shushing.

I stared at you for several minutes after, your beautiful body glistening in the dim light. I didn’t want the moment to end, enjoying the sensation of my cock softening inside your most delicate recess. Still, I knew it must.

To my surprise, instead of sliding off of me, you began to press against me. Reaching back, you tickled me between my legs, telling me you wanted to make me cum again. I reacted instantly, my cock growing harder within you.

You began rocking on me, at first, telling me how much it hurt and how much you loved it. “Do you like it?” you asked me, receiving a deep growl in affirmation.

You rocked harder and faster until you began bouncing on my cock. I watched as tears rolled down your cheeks. Later you would tell me of the strange balance of pain and pleasure you felt, bouncing on my member. For now, however, I only knew your actions and the incredible tightness and passion I felt.

As I neared climax, I was a man enraged, filled with power. I pushed you from me and commanded you take to your knees. Obeying me, you thrust your ass up so I could impale you, once again. My first thrust was hard and fast. You screamed in obvious pain. Still, I never slowed, fucking you hard, enjoying the feel of your bottom wrapped around my shaft.

Sweat dripped from my nose, splashing onto your body as I ripped into you, my orgasm taking control. Nearly out of control, my hands gripped your waist and pulled you to me as I thrust spasmodically into you.  Such was the power of the moment that I was only vaguely aware of you turning around to take my cock in your mouth, catching the final few drops of semen as they oozed from my member.

"When you see her, tell her that Jack Hamblin says hi,” says the man before walking off.

He said his name was Jack Hamblin. I don’t remember him. Would you remember him, I wonder. Would you care if I told him how wild you really were?

It was the middle of the night when you woke me. You wanted to try it again. You wanted to see if you could cum from it. This time we did not use the lubrication. Instead, you brought me to life with your mouth, leaving my cock coated with your saliva. Then, as before, you straddled me, reached for my cock and slid me into your ass.

I watched you as you bounced on my shaft. I reached up to squeeze your bouncing breasts, kneading them lustily. You leaned forward to kiss me before leaning back until you were lying between my legs, still fucking me. The sight of my cock sliding into your ass astonished me and brought me near to climax. But I had to wait. I had to keep control to see if you could orgasm this way.

Just as I was thinking I wouldn’t be able to last, you shivered and I knew it was upon you. A low moan exited your body. Then you pushed down hard on my cock, forcing it into you more deeply. In an instant, the room was filled with the sonic evidence of our satisfaction.

It was you who moved first, sitting up, my softening cock still inside your bottom. You stared down at me, your cheeks still damp from tears. Then you smiled that wondrous smile and leaned forward to lie on top of me. We moved nary an inch ‘til daybreak

Part 2

Another familiar face introduces itself. Nancy is her name. I see that her hair is damp as she thrusts out a hand to shake mine.

“How are you? Is Stephaney here with you or couldn’t she make it?” she asks me, smiling. “Sorry for the damp hands. It’s started coming down out there and I just got in.”

Rain. I can hear it above the dull roar of the room, beating down just beyond the open doors of the auditorium. I think of the first time I saw you. But I always think of the first time I saw you when it rains.

We were in high school. It was our lunch period and you were standing with a couple of your friends, just under the shelter of the cafeteria. Your hair, long and dark, clung to you as you spoke to your comrades. I was captured, instantly, and I found that I could not take my eyes off of you.

As luck would have it, you noticed my steady gaze. I was embarrassed at having been caught staring and I knew that I should have ruined my chances at ever speaking with you. Still, I never wavered in my gaze.

Amusedly, you walked over and introduced yourself, flashing a smile. The voice that issued forth was as music to my ears, lilting and beautiful. For me, it was love at first sight and I could only pray that I would not say something stupid. I didn’t and you agreed to let me walk you home after school.

That day, standing out in the rain in front of your parent’s house, I leaned in under the damp cave of your hair and kissed you. I was afraid, never having kissed a girl before…not in that way. But, as I leaned in to kiss you, I saw your beautiful lips part, slightly. And then, as our lips met, we embraced, holding each other’s sopping bodies.

We were rarely apart afterwards, finding or making time to be together whenever possible. Even our yearbook, for the next three years, noted us as “the couple most in love”. A statement more true than any could have imagined.

Another voice shakes me from my memories. “Did you and Stephaney ever tie the knot?” asks a new face. The question makes me chuckle.

“Yes, we tied the knot” I tell the woman as I wander past her towards the open doors.

It was damp and cold the first time we “tied the knot”. Clouds filled the sky with darkness. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled through the dark night. I remember how the wildness of the night excited you.

You came to me, eyes wide and excited, hands filled with silken scarves. "Tie me to the bed and have your way with me, lover!" you exclaimed.

We practically raced into the bedroom, tearing off each other’s clothes. Stopping just as we entered the room, we kissed in a passionate embrace before I flung you to the bed.

In an instant, I was upon you like a rabid beast, pinning you on the bed.

To my surprise you put up a struggle, fighting my attempts to bind your wrists to the bedpost. Excited at your struggle I fought against you, finally securing your arms to the bedposts. I grinned from over you, ready to bind your legs similarly.

As I made my first attempt to grab your ankle, you lashed out, nearly kicking me. In retaliation I spun around and slapped you, reddening your cheek. Still, you fought, prompting another slap. Suddenly, rapt with power, I flung myself over your legs and wrapped my arms around your calves. I struggled to still your powerful and well-formed legs.

As our battle raged I became more determined, filled with power and lust. Finally, as I feared I might never achieve my goal, I had you bound to the bed, your ankles pulled wide to their respective bedposts.

I stepped from the bed to admire my prize: A beauty in bondage, helpless and ready for the taking, still struggling against the knotted scarves that held you in captivity.

Sliding on to the bed, I promised that you would pay for your struggles. I would take you now, as I wanted, and rape the resistance from your heart. For this you swore at me, promising me punishments and reprisals for my actions.

Aching to take you, I crawled on top of you, straddling your chest and commanding you ready yourself to suck my cock. You swore at me, eyes wild, promising that I would suffer if my cock came near your mouth. You did not lie. For, as my cock came to your lips you jerked forward, baring your teeth and snapping. I pulled back, surprised at your actions, falling between your legs and nearly toppling from the bed.

When I righted myself I promised suffering to be your reward. You screamed at me, promising to make me suffer for abusing you so. My demands at silence were met with more screams and more promises.

I bolted from the bed to retrieve your panties, promising that you would be silent. Then came the ensuing battle to pry your mouth open and fill it with your panties. It was a long and arduous battle but, when it was over, you were no longer able to speak. Still, you growled through your panties, fighting to spit them from your mouth despite the scarf, which held them securely in place.

Standing back, once again, I pulled the belt from my discarded pants and began to beat you with it. You screamed into your gag as I smote your inner thighs, reddening the soft flesh between your legs. Then your eyes grew wide as I took aim further up. And though a part of me feared to do so, I struck the tender flesh of your sex. You howled and arched you back as the pain filled you. And then, unable to wait any longer, I pounced on you, ramming my cock into your pain filled sex.

I stared down at you as I began thrusting. You eyes were clenched tightly: Evidence of your pain. Still, I thrust, beating into your body, an animal enraged with lust. I was in ecstasy, enjoying your agonized struggles. And when your pain subsided and you began to return my thrusts, I withdrew my cock from your sex to thrust into your ass.

Again you howled into your gag, unprepared for the sudden invasion. But I did not stop, nor could I. Instead, I pumped into you, stroke after painful stroke. Suddenly, I could take no more. My own eyes clenched and I thrust one final time, moaning as I came.

Later that night, I held you to me. You cried and shook, unable to utter more than a few coherent words. I was frightened at your state of being, horrified that my brutality had might have injured you. But you assured me, as best you could, that you were fine. And, when, finally, you were able to speak in coherent terms, you revealed your secret longing for such rough brutality and made me promise it would be so again. Of course, I promised. How could I not?

Staring out at the rain, I wonder that it should be so tonight as it was on the day of our first meeting. But then, I suppose, I should not be surprised at this. Most important days of our lives were graced with rain.

I turn back to see a man standing just the other side of the door. He is smiling, speaking to me, reminding me of the day when you caught your skirt on the fence as you climbed over it. No one would have described you as a tomboy but they never would have described you as a girlish, either. You were always so adventurous and never afraid to get dirty.

“She was so humiliated, that day,” he says to me. “She got hung up on that fence, her skirt pulling up to her armpits and trapping her against the fence. No one laughed at her, though. At least, not until she laughed at it later.”

I smile back at him, remembering the day. “Everyone loved her, didn’t they?” I ask.

“You two were both loved, really. Why do you think no one ever messed with you two? You guys were strictly off limits,” he says. “But boy, that was probably the most humiliating day of her life.”

I grin and nod my head as he walks off. As he does so I am reminded of so many nights when I humiliated you. Some nights I made you beg to be taken. Other nights I made you beg for pain or to eat cum. You loved those games.

Especially, you enjoyed when I treated you like an animal. The “puppy game” we called it. I made you wear a dog collar and bark to communicate with me. I taught you hand commands that would make you sit, lie down and roll over. And, though you always enjoyed it, I don’t think that any night compared to the first night I treated you so. I can never forget that night, though I do wonder how the notion came to me.

You had been waiting for me to come home. I had phoned you, telling you to be naked and to have your bottom lubricated. I’m sure you thought I intended to take you roughly when I got home. We had, after all, made rough sex a regular part of our marital activities. But I had a surprise for you instead.

You greeted my with a huge smile. You were excited and expecting. When we entered the living room I bent you over the couch. You moaned, expecting my entry. Instead, I pushed a plug into your waiting ass and told you not to move. Then I pulled the collar from my coat pocket and fastened it around your neck.

“Get down on all fours and show me how a dog behaves”, I commanded.

It was as you got to the floor that you realized that your plug was graced with a springy tail. You looked back and wagged your ass, watching as the tail wagged behind it. When you looked back to me, I had a rolled up newspaper in my hand. Then you noticed the bag you had failed to notice before.

“I don’t want to eat those”, you told me.

A quick smack with the newspaper silenced your protests, your face turning red. A moment of resistance rose and was quickly suppressed by another smack with the newspaper. Then I explained how the night, and the ensuing weekend, would unfold.

You were a bit difficult, at first. My commands were met with angry glances and you broke character several times. Finally, after grabbing you by the hair and pushing you into your dog dish, you gave in to the inevitable. Truthfully, I was quite unsure of my actions until I reached back to find your sex wet and warm.

For the rest of the weekend you begged at the table, being fed an occasional scrap. And, though there was no enthusiasm to do so, you ate the dog food and dog biscuits you were rewarded with.

As the weekend ensued you learned what I expected, becoming an expert at licking my cock, balls and ass with long strokes of your tongue. And, though it embarrassed you beyond any you embarrassment you had experienced before, you became accustomed to using the back yard for your bathroom.

You were a “good bitch”, I always told you so. Of course, despite the reddening this brought to your cheeks, you were prideful of being a “good bitch”.

A woman thrusts her face into my view. I recognize her but I can’t match it to a name. She hugs me, squealing kind words and, of course, asking about you.

“She was so nice to me,” says the voice issuing from the familiar face.  “ I don’t know if you know this but my parents were not very well off. Stephaney…well, she was so kind. Sometimes, my parents couldn’t send any lunch with me. We were not well off. Stephaney would share her lunch with me if I didn’t have lunch or the money to buy lunch.”

“Yes, I know.” I tell her. “Debby, right?”

“Oh, you do remember me!” She squeals. “You know, she never made me feel bad and she always…what was it she said? Well, I don’t remember it exactly but it was something along the lines of giving to others is nothing to be proud of if you have enough for yourself.”

I smile at her, remembering you always speaking of being well off as a privilege and responsibility. “Yes, she has always been that way.” I tell her.

“Well, when you see her, tell her that Debby is alive and well and that I run a non-profit organization to feed the hungry.” She says. “I call it “Stephaney’s House”…after her.”

Again I smile at her, nodding my head and telling her how happy that would make you. She begins rambling on as I make an excuse to extricate myself from her high-pitched company.

Stepping outside, I remember back to so many times when your generosity turned out so well. I remember how a poor family was allowed the dignity of an honest days pay working as our gardeners. We didn’t need a gardener. But you insisted on having them work for us. Two years later they started their own lawn care company. And, of course, as was always the case, your generosity was returned when they refused to take pay for taking care of our own small yard.

There were so many generous things you did. All of them, it seems were returned ten-fold. And anyone who worked with or for us fell in love with us…with you. Wasn’t it always the way?

Part 3

Another woman pushes her way into my company. I don’t want to be here. I want to go home. It’s all I can do to remain and answer the bantering of these people.

“Aren’t you…yes, it is you! How are you?”

She is short and chubby. Her hair is damp and frizzy. I remember her from my homeroom. I never liked her but she always liked me. I smile, attempting to excuse myself but she will have none of it.

“You know, I had such a crush on you.” She tells me. “If it hadn’t been for Stephaney I would have made such a move on you!”

Hardly flattered, I again try to excuse myself. Still, she is relentlessly pouring words out of her mouth. You would remember her well. “Talky Tina” we used to call her. She was rude and obnoxious; always talking – some things never change.

I remember how you managed to find something to like about her, despite her obnoxious manner. You always found something to like in everyone, no matter how annoying they were. I always loved that about you.

“I am so glad to see you. Where’s Stephaney? Don’t tell me you guys broke up! You were the perfect couple. I so loved you guys. Oh, you’re still together? Great, is she here? I would so love to see her again! Oh, she’s not here? That’s too bad. Tell her that Tina says hi, okay?”

She rambles on and on, a juggernaut with her mouth. Finally, I escape her rapid-fire machine gun of a mouth and step outside. Fortunately, the rain keeps her from following me. I don’t want to be here. Still, I manage a bit of a grin as I hearken back to the day I told you I wanted to shove something in her mouth to shut her up.

We were in our apartment, a few weeks before we were to marry. Upon your mentioning of her name I began ranting about how annoying she was. Immediately, you grinned at me and began talking, a chatterbox mimicking her speech pattern and banal conversation. I warned you that if you continued I would certainly shut you up, as I wanted to do to her. Still you continued, grinning at me and daring me to “Shove something in my mouth, mister!”

Grinning back at you, I rushed to you, taking your head in my hands and pushing you down to your knees. Still, you rattled on, insipid commentary rushing from your mouth as you refused to quit the role.

I stole my cock from my trousers, already hard at the thought of what was to come, and pushed it at your face. Still rattling on, I found it difficult to find my mark. Finally, a break in your commentary came and I was able to push myself into your mouth.

I was in instant ecstasy. Obediently, you closed your mouth around my member, sucking me. Your tongue lashed at my shaft, curling and pressing up from under the swelling. After mere moments you began to slide your lips back and forth along my shaft, my hands guiding your movements.

As my motions became more hurried, you unsnapped my pants and pulled them down to my ankles. I felt the firm grasp of your hands on my ass as you began pulling me into your mouth. Then you released my cock and lay down on the floor, beckoning me to straddle your head.

My first motion was not what you wanted and you pushed me forward so that your face was between my legs.

“Stroke your cock,” you told me.

I began stroking and found that you were motioning me to settled further down. Obedient to the moment I settled, greeted by the feel of your darting tongue on my dangling sack. The sensation thrilled me, sending a thrilled shiver up my spine.

As I became used to the sensation I found myself being pushed forward, even as I was motioned further downward. Then I felt your tongue darting between my cheeks, probing at the hole between. I thought that I should have been put off by this action, but I was not.

A whisper from between my legs told me that you wanted to taste me when I climaxed. Then the tongue returned to work, probing between my cheeks. The probing flicks of tongue turned to licks, short and then long. Then you sucked at my sensitive hole, pushing your tongue into me. I was moaning, climbing the agonizing road to climax.

“Does it feel good, lover?” You asked, briefly pulling from my hole.

“Yes!” I growled, as you returned to licking, probing and sucking.

I cannot remember how it came to be that you ended up on your knees in front of me. I can only remember the intensity and the enthusiasm with which you sucked as I came, swallowing every drop of fluid that spewed forth.

I remember thinking, later that night, that I was a blessed man.

The sound of a horn rips me from my ruminations. I realize that I have wandered into the parking lot. In front of me looms a small car; it’s lights staring at me. Quickly, I move out of the way allowing the lights to progress.

It’s time for me to head home to you. I can take no more of this.

The ride home is without incident. Rain pelts the windshield as I drive. Lights in the distance blur with each drop of rain, only to be brought into focus by the redundant swish of the windshield wipers.

The ride is interminably long, and yet it seems to have only taken a few moments. It’s funny how that happens; arriving someplace and having little recollection of how you managed it.

For a long time I sit in my car, my energy nearly sapped. The reunion was difficult. There were so many different faces asking so many of the same questions. I would never have gone had you not wanted to go so badly. I only wish you could have gone too.

Finally, I work up the energy to exit the car and make my way into our home. Opening the door, I step inside expecting your greeting, knowing it is not to come.

The house is dark but for the light in our bedroom. Slowly, I make my way to our room, glancing over to your beautiful form as I enter. You look so peaceful and beautiful lying there. I wait for you to stir, feeling foolish at my hope.

My note is still on the dresser - poetic I hope. It's probably not, though.

I open the drawer to withdraw the object of necessity. It is necessary. I had hoped it wasn’t. But it is

It happened so fast. They said that it was too late when they caught it - gave you
6 months. They were wrong. Three weeks later I sit here on the bed, my note repeating
itself in my head. "In her love I had life. With her passing I have death. No, it’s probably not poetic: accurate but not poetic.

I lay down beside you: by your shell.

Putting the revolver to my head I can hear the sound of the cylinder rotating as it aligns the cartridge with the barrel. It's so loud - deafening, really.

It’s funny how one can fear what one must have. I only wonder if I have the courage to do what I must.

I do

End