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Now I Am Gone
by Uther Pendragon 

Cheryl darling, 

I'm giving this letter to Steve to deliver to you, sealed, a month after I  die. So that you know, I'm typing this on April 6. You're away getting  my prescriptions filled. I love you. 

Well, when we got married, we promised to "cleave only onto him/her
so long as you both shall live." I've kept my promise -- I'll have neither
opportunity nor energy to break it in the next few weeks -- and I truly
believe that you've kept yours. Now I am gone, your promise has
expired with me. If you want to put up a headstone, go ahead. I don't
care either way. 

The one monument I explicitly do *not* want is a dried up widow. You
are full of life; I loved that -- still love that as I'm writing this; stay
full of
life. Being full of life included sex. It still does. 

Find another man who will kiss you until his kisses hit the spot below
your left ear. You'll feel special when he does, and he -- if has more
sensitivity than a cabbage -- will feel special, too. The man who finds
the spot will have to kiss you a lot before he does. 

Give him that chance. Indeed, give several men that chance. Choose
among them. 

Give any man who finds that spot access to your body. You're a
generous woman -- don't turn niggardly now. Go back on the pill. I
know that you regret as much as I do that my diagnosis came too late
for us. Being on the pill was, however, *our* decision, and our
mistake. The world needs another generation of Cheryls, but only a
generation with an active father. 

Find that father. More important, find the man that will love you. When
you find him, love him as you loved me. Welcome him with open arms.
If he will kiss all of you, and all of you is eminently kissable, kiss all
of
him. As you loved me, you loved my cock. If you love him, love his
cock. 

And welcome him with open legs. I didn't kiss *quite* all of you. The
outer lips are delightful; kissing your clit got me the most enchanting
responses. But the depths were only available to my fingers and cock.
And the happiest minutes of my life were spent with my cock in those
depths. You were so warm, so smooth, so responsive -- so welcoming. 

Don't think that honoring me means being less welcoming to another.
When you've shared the foreplay, and you've both enjoyed the
foreplay, and he's brought you to the wonderful state of arousal that
you're so capable of, and you've brought him to the state of arousal that
you managed for me so well and so often, then open your depths to
him. Give him that ecstatic pleasure that you gave me while my strength
was capable of it. And, if he gives you the ecstasy you got with me,
consider joining with him permanently. 

And, if he does not, consider rejecting him permanently. For you are
capable of that ecstasy; you deserve that ecstasy; the world deserves to
have an ecstatic Cheryl in it. If your first selection can't provide it,
look
for another. And, when you have found a possibility, welcome that one
into your life, into your arms, into your vagina. 

I didn't really want to have a funeral, darling, but I know it will soon be
necessary. I certainly don't want to have a Hindu funeral, and there is
no necessity at all. Don't burn yourself on my pyre, Cheryl. Live in the
world as brightly as I know you can.