My ink once freely flowed. Your cock burst the zipper to shower appreciation on my stories.
Now, worldly stresses spank my fantasies, shooing them to my mind’s darkest corners.
I scribble a dribble. Then, a drabble. Alas, the well runs dry.
Time passes.
I rest my pen against my parched lips. Then, push inside. My tongue flicks the tip. The plume swipes my nipple.
Sequestered fantasies return.
My pen dips in between my legs, dusting off the cobwebs. My pussy has forgotten, resisting the intrusion. But, my pen insists and breaks through.
Oh my goodness, my ink flows again!
