Not the medical kind, thankfully. But of the writerly kind… (this, as usual, is a little NSFW…) Since I’m stuck on my damn story and can’t quite get the words out to finish the sex scene, and in honor of National Poetry month… (Be warned: I might have Andrew Dice Clay stuck in my head right now…) So, here’s to you, Writers’ Block. *flips the bird and giggles that evil laugh of up-to-no-good*
I pick on myself
From time to time,
And oh, the agony
Of making this rhyme.
***
I gotta finish
the smutty bits
full of cocks
and twats and tits.
Big blue eyes here,
long slender legs there,
soft, creamy skin
and smooth flaxen hair.
Hard angles and edges,
and eyes sea-foam green,
shaggy black hair,
he’s lanky and lean.
A collision of bodies
hell-bent on two things;
the quick heat of pleasure
and happy endings.
She spreads her legs,
he gives her his bone,
crimson lips can’t hold back
a whimper, a moan.
A few more quick thrusts
with his big rod,
he gets her to cum,
and then blows his wad.
*The End*