Writer's Block

It's 9 in the afternoon and you are sitting at your desk, blankly staring at the monitor in front of you. It's been almost 12 hours since you woke up, and ever since you had breakfast, you've been trying to get something creative going. As a writer, nothing is worse than having writer's block. Despite your publisher assuring that you can, you feel that you really cannot write bestsellers on command.

Your first published book, "Satanic Sheets of Satin", was a bestseller and is even now, a year after it was first published, in the top 10 of best books around the globe. An erotic thriller, your work has gained you devout followers amongst idle housewives and young women in general. At least, that is what the letters say. About three times a week, you get a letter from a housewive or an oversexed teenager that begs for you to fuck her. But you already have someone to indulge in. Your girlfriend is one of the most beautiful girls you've ever met. And you consider yourself lucky to have hooked up with her. Short, dark brown hair reaches down to her shoulders. It has a tendency to hang in front of her eyes when she rides you. Her breasts are not huge, but rather a handful, which is more than enough for you. Her ass is the best you have ever laid eyes upon. It's smooth and soft, making you want to take a bite out of it.

The object of your affection is sitting behind you, so you look over your shoulder as you think of her. She looks up with a smile as she hears your desk chair swivel. "How is it coming along, darling?" she asks you. You shake your head as an answer. She pouts her lips briefly and puts the book away. "Then give it a rest baby, you've been at it since this morning. Come on, give me some attention, huh?" You laugh, pulling her on her feet and into your lap. Kissing her tenderly, you stroke her back. Your lover cups your face between her hands, holding you in place. "So, are you going to quit that damn thing yet?" she asks.