You try a new approach.

Plopping down in front of your computer you strip down, grab a notepad and start looking at all sorts of porn for ideas. Finally after about an hour of searching and playing with your cock, you give up on finding a picture to try describing, and instead just write a little story about someone and see what happens. The odd thing is as the words flow your hand almost seems guided a bit as if the words weren’t entirely yours.

You write, “Dani was born to a single mother that wasn’t exactly brilliant. Almost as if having a premonition his mother misspelled his name on his birth certificate and rather than Daniel, it clearly said Danielle, that accidental E would come to describe Dani from then on. Dani, as he was typically called, was of rather slight build, outgoing and very friendly, empathetic to others, and made friends easily. The first day of school ever he met his new best friend a spoiled rotten little girl by the name of Amber, who he would loose his virginity to after prom, senior year. Now for the most part Dani dressed like a boy, only playing dress up at the insistence of Amber, who insisted that Dani was a beautiful girl and destined for fame and fortune. That said other people typically assumed the pair were girls. In fact most people that spotted the truth said something like, “Huh.” And didn’t give it another thought. All that changed in high school. Amber was going to be a cheerleader, and so was her best friend. That was that, from then on Danielle, still Dani among friends, was a girl, and a very sexy one at that. She got a scholarship to the New York Film Academy and studied acting and photography, which then led to a modeling agency in Italy and by 23 she had a pair of movie credits, the girlfriend of an evil **** lord, and a friendly barista in a romantic comedy that served up wisdom, drinks, and a smile.”

Looking it over you realize it has no description at all, yet a smiling face pops in your head as you read it. Slipping the paper into the pocket you sit down, boots in hand and slide one foot in. The second one slips in as well and hand on the zipper you are suddenly a bit frightened.

“Should I?” You ask yourself.