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From: Planet Dweller <planet_dweller@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Polly's Cave  ~   F solo mast, MF and FF in memoir, terminal illness, suicide, not too depressing - promise
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Date: Sun,  4 Jul 2004 05:10:03 -0400
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   ==== *** Please visit my completely free online adult erotic story site
of my original stories at:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/PlanetDweller/www
~~~ Stories about menstrual sex, sex therapy, sex surrogacy, lesbian

sex, incest, alien abductions, and more.





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   ~~~ A terminally ill cancer-stricken woman contemplating suicide
remembers her lovers and her loves; honest, almost brutal in its
reflections, but not self-pitying or too remorseful, and not really all
that depressing, very touching to most that read it, in fact ~~~

   Polly's Cave (F solo, mast, MF and FF in memoir, not graphic, terminal
illness, cancer, suicide)

   By

   PlanetDweller



   I hated putting Mr.  Wiggins, my old and faithful feline friend of the
past fifteen years, to sleep more than I disliked the thought of putting my
own self to sleep, but it was and is time for both of us to pass on.  We
both were and are old and useless and way past our prime, not that being
just fifty-four is past one's prime even when you're an old postmenopausal
hag but yes it is so when the sight of the pain in your face from multiple
terminal cancers including the latest one, fullblown stage four pancreatic
cancer, makes even those that had loved you turn away in revulsion.

   Revulsion not from you, but from the fact that this suck-ass reality of
the imperfection of genetics and the perfection of God's plan however
seemingly warped and twisted could just as easily be them.

   {{{Yates Emory, everyone used to call him "Yeller".  He was my first
boyfriend.  My first real kiss.  My first, second, third bases, and the
summer of '61, I gave up my homerun ball to him.  His cock was thin like a
whip, uncircumcised and long and tapered and with it he whipped my devotion
to him almost daily into a foamy froth, until mother caught us in our
basement, his pants to his knees and my dress over my head, coal dust
suspended in midair as was her disbelief.  I wanted to marry him but Viet
Nam wanted him more.  Ten years ago, as my cancer was first diagnosed, I
made a trip to "The Wall" to say good-bye to him, saving his name in a
rubbing from it that I kept as a bookmark inside my bible.  I hope he's
there to greet me soon, when I'm permitted to cross over shortly, I hope
.}}}



   Touching.  I don't know why the doctors don't ever tell you the full
truth about what's going to happen to you, like my skin so dry now from all
the fucking chemo that anything but mild pressure can cause it to split
open along tiny fissures and bleed major out like there was any blood
inside me left to do so.

   Touching.  Yeah, I know why doctors don't tell you the entire truth. 
They don't want the guilt on their hands of you placing your head on the
railroad tracks or sticking it into the oven (just make sure it's gas and
not electric, Dearie!) or swallowing a half bottle of old Malathion after
they actually have some guts to tell you.

   {{{Betty Jean.  My first girlfriend of just two.  Second year of college
at Meredith.  Her boyfriend had gotten her pregnant and then made a pass at
me the following week after the then-still-illegal abortion had almost
killed her and she couldn't get out of bed for a month.  We had sworn off
men after the truth of how scummy men are had finally hit us simultaneously
after that jerk, can't even remember his name, seemingly had made us
lesbians for life.  We had the courage of our fingers and tongues, but
didn't have the courage of our hearts, which still beat that straight 4/4
time for men not women despite our best efforts to love each other and
other women and never men again.  Yeah, right.  You go back in time and try
to even think about being a lesbian in 1964.  I think she's still a
schoolteacher down in Morehead City in Craven County.  I need to write her
a good-bye note and mail it before things proceed further.  No, I don't.}}}



   Gulp.  The first pill of regulated last regimen of thirty, one every
five minutes for two hours, the last six saved as final coup de grace for
when Jim would come by, on time as usual.  Thirty heavily-regulated
morphine sulphate pills carefully saved, not like I couldn't get a hundred
of them if I really wanted them.  Just covering my bases.

   Gulp.  My hands so brittle as to almost break at the touch of my breasts
feeling myself, comforting myself, one last time.  No one here to touch me,
for me.  Alone, except for God, and God doesn't care if an old woman
touches herself one last time.  No one here to touch me now, to kiss me
good-bye.

   I shall not miss this place, this life at all.

   {{{Foster, then Karen, then together.  What a time we had.  Foster, who
never married not even to this day after I told him I loved him but wasn't
in love with him.  He still is a bachelor after all these years, still
pines for me even now.  Big mistake getting involved with Karen even though
he not only knew but encouraged me to keep exploring my "bi" side with her.
Bigger mistake still letting us three wind up in bed together one time
which became a never-ending string of times three together which begat a
never-ending string of fights, heartaches, accusations and recrimination I
vowed never to go through again.  Foster, my love, do not cry when you get
my note.  You may curse me when you get my note in tomorrow's mail.  But
please, do not cry.  Karen, the love of my life, thank you for teaching me
that in the end, treating others as you wish to be treated and trying for
your own happiness within that balance is all that matters.  Karen, my
love, when you get my note tomorrow, please do cry.  Please don't curse me,
but yes, when you get my note if you haven't heard by then, please do cry.
My love for you is eternal.}}}



   Swallow.  Funny how when you're down to less than 60% of your BMI/body
mass index your fingers feel bony on your clit even to yourself.  Just
gotta laugh.  Just gotta swallow that bit of unintentional humor on down.

   Swallow.  Deep breath, touching of skin too sore to touch, spit on flesh
lubricating, spit coming from a dry mouth wanting to scream at all to
scream at God for letting this happen to me.  Scream a dry scream of
pleasure kittying my clitty and then swallow.

   {{{Frank.  Franklin Goodhew Matthews.  Shall I curse you for all
eternity?  You gave me enough reasons, between your whore secretaries and
your drinking and your whores and your drinking and your more whores.  That
dose of the clap you gave me was it, was it for our marriage at least
though I let it hang on way too long after that.  At least you somehow
sperm donated enough good sperm for Cheryl and Kenny, who fortunately for
the world are nothing like their father, and for that I am grateful to you,
though why I don't know.  No note to you.  Why bother?  When you get the
call, I know your reaction will be something like "stupid bitch finally did
the right thing." Fuck you.  Wait until you pass on.  I'll be waiting at
the gate with the rolling pin you made for me when we first got married. 
Poetic justice, call it.}}}



   Breath.  Fingers now better lubed with a little Vaseline.  What will the
coroner think when he's stripping my body of its last shred of dignity? 
That a terminal cancer patient in her last hours could still have sexual
urges?  One more pill and then another, chasing.  Let me deposit better
evidence.

   Breath.  Deep.  Fingers, deep, probing at my connection between this
world and the eternal, the link between old life and new life, rubbing
rubbing rubbing, frigging frigging frigging, deeper deeper deeper, eyes
closed, images of past loves and lovers and being loved flashing across the
backwall of my cave, Polly's cave, now zipping past me, shadows becoming
incubi, real, touching me back as my arms strain to touch my lovers one
more time, before.

   {{{To the pizza guy and the plumber and Gill our old mechanic for so
many years, I hope you think I wasn't using you.  Well, I was, so I hope
you at least enjoyed my revenge fucks against Frank.  I hope you still
carry the memories of the absolute freedom I fucked your brains out with
the best I could, Gill, you especially, letting you in my backdoor which no
one ever before or since was given the key to, I hope my genuine screams of
passion made you come as hard as you were making me come then.  No notes to
you guys.  You each served a purpose in your own way.  My purpose.  In the
end, Frank didn't care when I told him.  But I did.  My apologies for
making you read about my death in the paper.}}}





   Gulp, one more pill, then Swallow, then another forbidden Touch, then
another Breath.  Count them.  They're not many left.  Gulp, one more pill,
then Touch, one more time.

   Front door opening.  It's Jim.  It's time.  Orgasm through one last
time, panties up one last time, new white dress I've chosen for the
occasion down, one last time.

   "You know how much I love you, my friend" he whispered to me as he
kissed me on the check, one last time.

   "Yes, I know" my kissing him back on the cheek and then lightly on the
lips ~ one last time.  The last of the pills chased down with watered-down
orange juice.  Then, his hand holding mine, holding it through, his
promise, his word, all the way to the end.  The last time I shall ever know
the touch of a human, the last sensation I shall ever feel.  The simple
touch of a true friend.

   No further need for words.  The remaining seconds become years.  All my
life's moments now run around inside my head, inside the
theater-in-the-round of my head, the circumferential wall of Polly's cave.
All the lies I had told myself, all the truths I had told others.  Didn't
matter now.  It just doesn't matter.

   Poor old sweet but ineffectual Jim.  My body now paralyzed in its last
moments but my mind and soul still going, the bag he gently places over my
head isn't a standard garbage bag but a large clear plastic one from
CompUSA.  He does mean so well, but the tiny slits which now serve as the
windows to the last thing I'll ever see now can't help but focus on the big
red CompUSA logo turned askilter and inside out within the clear plastic
covering of the bag.  He is such an idiot and moron if he is my best
friend, my best friend enough to help me do this, my true best and only
friend.  You just gotta laugh.

   {{{"Polly, I'm here." "Is that you?" "Yes, I'm here." "But you're not
dead.  "No, but you are, and I'm home sick in bed with the flu and to me
this is supposed to be a delusion but I know it's not." "Karen, I love you,
I love you so much.  "I know.  I'm still in love with you, too, My
Darling." "Why didn't we get married then?" "Because it was a time and
place when women didn't marry women." "No, but they did run off together."
"To what?  Even in San Francisco, to poverty and discrimination?" "Exactly.
That's exactly why we didn't marry.  The times wouldn't let us." "But I
loved you so much.  I still am so in love with you."

   She beamed at me as her form floated in front of the entrance to the
tunnel of light.  Time to go home.  "I've only got about ten more years
here on earth and then we'll be together, forever" her form floating to me
to kiss me sweetly on the lips before pulling back to the tunnel-oflight's
entrance, beaconing me home.  Home.  "Promise?" "Promise!" her love just
calling me to her.  Calling me to her and home.  Home.}}}



   "Yes, officers, I found the body just like this." "Did you touch
anything, Mr.  Oliver?" "Jim, it's Jim.  Just the bag, I checked for a
pulse, but I knew as soon as I saw her she was dead." "Cancer patient you
say?" "Yes, terminal.  Had only days to live anyway." "Damn shame.  She was
one good-looking broad for her age.  I'd have asked her out for a date if
we had met, her cancer and all.  One good-looking woman indeed.  Would have
banged her brains out if she had wanted me to.  God, what a waste." "Well,
she was in a lot of pain and was truly terminal." "Well, if she had liked
me, I'd have sent her to her Maker happy at least."

   God, my buddy old pal, sometimes you have one warped sense of humor,
indeed.

   ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

   ~~~ To visit my homepage where you'll find more interesting stories like
the one above, please click on:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/PlanetDweller/www
   And Thanks!, Yours, PlanetDweller ~~~

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