i still can't write

i'm suffering from writer's block. i know why. part of my mind is constantly spinning around the fact that my uncle's dead. part of my mind is overwhelmed with the idea of having to make moves after having chilled for the last couple of years, and part of my mind is focused on sex. it seems like everything is making me horny today.

shit, looking at the word 'FUCK' is making me horny. so is looking at the word 'horny'. i can't sit in my office seat for long because i want to close my door and masturbate. i might do that on my lunch break. then again, i don't want the office smelling like my pussy...the men might come in and never want to leave.

why are my nipples so fucking sensitive today? when i was washing my hands after using the bathroom earlier, i glanced into the mirror and all i saw were two very erect nipples poking through both my t-shirt AND my sweatshirt. it was like they were determined to be seen no matter what. then i had a meeting to attend and i'm leaning over because i'm thinking other folk see my erect nipples and think the token negro can't control her hornosity.

i just want to tweak them. just once. jusssssst onccccccce. i gotta flex my fingers to stop myself from doing just that. what the fuck is going ON with me???

i know what it is. i got to thinking about an ex-boyfriend of mine. man, his dick was a work of art. i was painting that shit everyday, my bushstrokes leaving his erect canvas gleaming with my cream. we were drawn into each other, an intricate illustration of angles and curves, synonymous in suspended animation...right before...right before...SHIT...gotta stop thinking about that or i'll never make it.

thirty minutes later...

aiight, i'm better. evidently i had to pee, which is why my clit was twitching like that. i'm still horny, but it's not as bad now. i refuse to think about my ex. i REFUSE, DAMNIT.

*sigh*

STOP IT, HAND!

my fingertips stroke the keypads slowly, caressing into sentences my need to get fucked. fucked well and fucked SOON.

oh please let it be soon. 'stroker ace' is getting tired...

i guess this is a blessing because if i think about sex i can't think about my uncle. maybe that's why i'm thinking so much about it, because i don't want to consider the task ahead of me. i've gotta fly to new york to bury my favorite uncle.

no, let me just think about fucking. let me think about calling out 'his' name, the name that makes me shiver whenever i say it out loud. the name that makes me quiver at the thought of whispering it into his ear as he strokes me slowly while telling me how loquacious i am and how he loves it when i genuflect in front of him right before sliding his dick into my mouth. then i'd have him talk to me in dirty french words...

aiight nikki, ENOUGH.