Chapter 66.

Camille pulled Claire's mouth into her pussy with one hand. With another, she pulled Lucy to her tit. She didn't want to cum — not yet — but she was tired of these dances, of these games. She was tired of disguises and teasing. Too much foreplay. Centuries of foreplay, but tonight's the night. Tonight is the night.

Camille hears the flip of the page and arches her back, anticipating the next one. She knows these poems better than herself. They have kept the memory of Laura K alive, kept them sharp. They are better than her body, better than her mind. The words don't fade, and the memory stays sharp enough to stab, deep enough to cum.

How long can a shadow run?

In the light, it will make horizons

To chase, ever lengthening,

Sisyphean, or perhaps Tantalus,

A hunger that burns me up

And yet brightens me, casting her

Further from my desperate reach.