Blockages… And an Ode?

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*

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