The few freckles gracing it call to me, and I slowly move my hand to caress the warm skin. I need more… now. It feels as if my finger tips are send...ng a calm orgasm through my arms. On your side, I can only see your body from the neck up, the bitter chill keeps you tucked away beneath the duvet. I run my hand down your shoulder to your neck and along your jaw, causing you to moan slightly and myself to smile, and I worry my touch has awoken you. My fingers lightly caress your cheek until they. . and forgetfulness is what I want. I want these memories to go away. Wouldn't you?Of course you would... unless you're one of those brainwashed morons who believes that suicide is some sort of "unforgivable sin." "Sin against whom?" is my question. God, perhaps? But if, as I'm constantly being told, "God is Love," how, then, can He object if we choose to end our pain and suffering by the most direct means possible? And if He does, in fact, object... how, then, can He be Love?"But, Cassandra,". More

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