The Raven(ous) The black raven knocks on my window. Like her, it is hungry, dark and smart. It flies off, leaving me lying on my bed, wanting. Her palm on my mound resting then lowering to stroke my moist lips. Our mouths greedy for more kisses. Her breath on my neck a vital force whispering. She has long fingers, nails short especially for me; for when she has entered me, she knows how hard and fast I want my cunt pounded, the hidden wall of flesh stroked over and over again until I burst with rhythmic muscular contractions, the swelling releasing my honey nectar, juicy liquid light on the mouth and grandiose in its flow. Sweet kisses on my belly to my throat where she leaves her mark with a bite. I taste her pussy, licking the tender tissue gently, a finger entering her sugar tunnel, her sighs and sobs resounding in our haven. Pushing two fingers into her, leaning up her body to express my affection, lavishing kisses on her mouth — she is melting like the candle wax next to our bed. I smother her, placing the weight of my body on top, my hand moving quickly in and out of her cathedral, She’s breathing heavily, panting, flesh swollen and wet waiting to erupt. Our mouths together, she cries out releasing herself, pussy leaking onto my hand and bed, her howling subsiding with a jerk of the body. With the taste and promise of more I slide down her figure, parting her legs with my head, diving into her soaked steamy flesh, licking, sucking her clit as she cries out. My lips and tongue make long strokes up and down her trembling legs and arms, making me shake with desire. Gripping the bed she heaves upward, gasping, then lets out a holler and falls back down, silent. Grazing her thighs, I rest my head between her legs. There’s a pecking at the window. The raven has returned. By Mimi Bordeaux on November 25, 2017. Canonical link Exported from Medium on January 18, 2019.