Casting aside the typewriter, I curse my writer’s block. Give up, write another story. Love scenes are too difficult. I lay back in flowers and close my eyes against the bright sunlight. 

“I need a Muse.”

A shadow blocks the rays. My eyes snap open. A beautiful woman stands over me stripping off her dress. I’m transfixed by her white breasts, rosy nipples, and soft curls between her legs. She straddles me. Without words and begins to grind her warm pussy against the zipper of my jeans. Pleasure fills me. The words come to me now, and my Muse disappears.