Cock Blocked . . .

My apologies - that title implies that there's something sexual about this post, when it's more about blogging.

I'd like to post more frequently, but I just don't seem to have any adventures to add, even in the realm of fantasy. I mean, it can't really be considered writer's block if I don't have anything to say? I feel like that does a great disservice to all the amazing writers who have great ideas that they want to put down on paper, yet the words just don't come. At work, I write up a storm - business letters, research papers, you name it, it comes flowing out of my copy of Word.

It's me really - I just haven't been thinking about sex enough in general. And cocks in particular. I just don't have any stories that I can put down on paper. So I guess that makes me cock-blocked.

So there you have it - the first reported case of cock-blocking perpetrated on a female.

But . . . the writers will tell you that sometimes, you just have to write your way through it. Keep putting words down on paper, no matter that you can practically smell how bad the writing is even as your pencil keeps moving.

So I'm going to keep putting my cock fantasies down on paper, and I guess I'll tell you about my dream, and you'll promise to forgive me in advance for its lameness. You see, the other night, I had this dream. A dream about that Indian guy from the Harold and Kumar movies. Now, not that there's anything wrong with it, but I've never had a real strong attraction for Indian men. Just my preference, I guess. But the other night, Kumar shows up in my dream. And of course he brings his weed with him. Which, without fail, makes me ragingly horny. And because my husband's a square about those things, I've been deprived of that particular pleasure for more years than I'd like.

So in this dream, Kumar has got me stoned, and I can't stop thinking about how smooth and hard and brown his cock must look. And how smooth and hard and brown his yummy body must look under those clothes. So before you know it, I'm stripping down this B-movie star, and then we're banging away on my couch. And I am loving it. And for the past couple of days, I am looking at every East Indian young man that I see, and wondering if he wants to smoke a joint with me.

So afterward, I wake up from this dream, and of course I'm horny still, so I wake up Mike, and as we're having sex, he asks me what got me so fired up. And I tell him about Kumar while we're fucking, and that reminds him of something that happened a long time ago, when we were just dating casually.

So he tells me about how he was seeing this married woman at the time also, and how she was also fucking this other guy, and how the three of them would get together so that Mike could watch the married woman have sex with the other guy, who just happened to be Indian (yep, that's my Mike). Anyway, at some point, this woman happened to see my picture in Mike's wallet, and asked if I'd be interested in joining their little adventures.

Clearly, Mike didn't know me very well at that point, because he told her that he thought I was too much of a "good" girl to be down with having a mini-orgy with this couple. How wrong he was!

So that little tidbit pretty much sent me over the top, and then some. The past couple of days, I've had to rub out a couple more orgasms just thinking about Kumar and that lost foursome opportunity. Ah, maybe one day . . .