It had been such a hard, hard day. Work had extracted its usual pound of flesh from me, sucking, leeching me dry. The rigours and ordeals of the everyday office workings had cut out their usual section of my soul to tack on another hundred dollars to my pay cheque.
There was no sound. It simply happened. Suddenly the windows were yawning wide, the drapes billowing inward, the rain rushing in on the wind like a rude and unexpected visitor, pawing here and there and handling everything, soaking the room, drenching my naked body with its cold touch. The moonlight roared into the room in ghostly silence like an inrushing tide, casting long silver shadows. And HE was there.
Silhoueted against the moon, dark hair streaming in the wind, his black cape billowing, a massive hulking shadow in the shadows, crouched on the balcony, one hand resting lightly on the floor, pinning me like a butterfly against the bedboard with the impact of his fiery, smouldering gaze.
When he moved it was like watching a dance, gliding smoothly from step to step with no visible shift in weight, jumping, whirling, GLIDING into the room, the windows closing behind him, the rain and the wind vanishing, landing without a sound, his cloak slowly settling around him like a cloud beside my bed.
And he stood over me while my naked body quivered, and bent his knee and bowed his horned head and, licking a finger with his cherry red tongue, he placed it upon the hardening nipple of one of my breasts and asked leave to enter my bed.
I did not need to answer. Suddenly he was there with me, his face pushing up under my chin, his hot damp breath on my neck, my body slick with rain sliding against his chiseled torso, his weight bearing down on me. I gasped as one of his hands found my left breast. The other reached around behind me, slipping between my buttocks. I was beginning to sweat.
I reached down and guided him into me as his lips found mine. His tongue slid into my mouth and suddenly he was INSIDE me, his phallus white hot, burning me up, filling me to overflowing, pushing deeper, higher, harder and still he was sliding in and in and IN! And never stopping but pushing deeper and still farther, and vaguely I was aware of my surprise that there was room inside me for all of him. His hands were roving at will over my slick flesh, caressing, probing, questioning, and still he was sliding IN. Surely I had no room to hold all of him, surely I would die bleeding in ecstasy, run clean through by his relentless sabre thrust.
And then he was going OUT, leaving me empty, yearning for his return, every instant an eternity in the cold void, crying like a baby for the IN, my body arching spasmodically beneath his weight, thrusting up against his pelvis, my nails scraping deep bloody gouges down the length of his back, my fingers pulling long, black, bloody tufts of hair from the back of his horned head, screaming and screaming and screaming.
And then suddenly he arched, tensed, groaned, said "Mommy", went limp, rolled over, snored.
The bathroom mirror stared back at me reproachfully as I finished myself off.
It had been such a hard, hard day.
----- COSSACK CROW -----