At Last There’s Nothing Left To Say

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Ah, my creative well has finally run dry. For the first time since I started posting in this blog, I have no idea what to write about. And it’s really not my fault. Sex is a dead horse. But, I still like talking about it, reading about it, thinking about it… if sex is a dead horse, I don’t want to be a live horse. Regardless, my thoughts on equines and their lives has nothing to do with this blog, at least not until I can figure a way to slide them into the conversation like a guy trying to slide in through the back door “by accident.” Anyways, back to the topic du jour: I really have nothing to write about. I wrestle with this particular demon every week as I rack my brain during the week to come up with something barely comprehensible to post, and so far, I think it’s worked pretty well. I suppose I could just post a link or a picture, but I like to think. I like mental challenges. I’m awful at Sudoku. And so, here I am, trying to exorcise this bitch of a writer’s block.

I’ve already written about sex as the most universal experience. The most universal taboo is incest, which is also about sex. Sex is interesting to read about because everyone has their own experience which is instantaneously related to by millions. Having a “unique” experience in the sack is like buying your punk t-shirts at the Gap… it just doesn’t happen, and if it does, everyone has one. Writing about sex is ridiculously easy and the hardest thing I’ve ever had to write about, and that includes splitting hairs between popular and mass culture in Dracula. It’s easy because just about anything passes for a conversation on sex and sexuality – just look at this post for a prime example. It’s hard because, well, look at this post. I’m trying to come up with something original. But, original is hard to come by in this line of work. Or perhaps I’m a mediocre writer, which is a strong possibility. What is original? It seems to me that coming up with something original between the sheets is like trying up to think of a fantasy with absolutely no basis in reality. Every dirty word can be said has been said, every position humped into the ground, every fantasy realized. Sex has probably been postmodern since about two weeks after Adam and Eve found out how to insert slot A into tab B (and C and D). All that’s left for us 21st centurians is to re-piece the puzzle in different ways – not necessarily original, but different enough so that it stands on its own.

And so, I leave you with a comical ad. Incidentally, diamonds are not forever, that’s a scam. I wonder if that’s a real blowjob or they just used shadows to eliminate depth.

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3 Responses to “At Last There’s Nothing Left To Say”

  1. lisa Says:

    I think it’s real. It’s definitely in her mouth

  2. Seb Says:

    Pouty lips, then

  3. Sandwich Repairman Says:

    Sex is hardly the most universal experience. Death is.

    Btw, incest stories are the most popular ones on Literotica.

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