He sat in front of his laptop on the bed, staring, legs crossed. Did he expect the words to magically appear on the blank document?  Writer’s block? More like writer’s doubt. Having way too many ideas proved more burdensome than the stereotypical reverse.

“Well, well, well,” said a female voice to his left. “Whatchu trying to do?”

“You already know,” he said in a low tone.

“You’re right.” Her hand rested on his shoulder, but he didn’t remove his focus from the laptop. “Give up.”

“And give in to you.” He remained unmoved, even when her delicate fingers fondled his ear lobe.

She leaned forward, her kisser a breath away from his ear and whispered, “Exactly.” Her speech warmed his cheek, and the scent of cinnamon wrapped into his nostrils.

He snapped around to her, and their noses nearly touched. The light-skinned beauty stretched her ruby-red lips into a grin but then pouted and gave a quick peck.

“You want to give in.” She stood, buttoned her suit jacket and placed her hands on her hips.

“I don’t.” His eyes found the split in her skirt along the front of her left leg. The exposure of her smooth, toned thigh halted his brain’s processes briefly.

“You do.” She tousled her bob, then bent forward and cupped a handful of cock and balls with only his boxer shorts in the way. “Swing your legs over the edge of the bed and give in to me.” Her voice dropped to a husk and matched the strongest addictions to exist. Alcohol, cocaine, porn? Small change. Dacia Darq’s allure? Un-fucking-matched.

“Yes.” He swung his legs over, and she giggled while slowly unbuttoning the opening of the boxer shorts for her prize. Mere milliseconds after his organs experienced the open air, Dacia dropped her head into his crotch and inches disappeared. The shift from cool air to the heated moisture of her mouth shocked him, but not in an unpleasant manner. She was right. Why bother writing? It would be incoherent, and no one would care for it. Giving in to her seemed the soundest option. With each bob, her ass cheeks stretched her skirt taut, giving great prominence to their separation, which stiffened Chris to maximum capacity.

She lifted her head and said, “You like surrendering to me, don’t you?” A thin string of saliva connected her lower lip to his flushed glans.

“I do.”

“You don’t need to write.” She licked the frenulum, maintaining eye contact and then paused. “It’ll be nonsense anyway.”

“Fodder.”

“Garbage.” She took his hand and placed it at the back of her head. “Now bunch my hair up and fuck all of that self-doubt into my throat.”

He didn’t hesitate.

Handfuls of Dacia’s dark curls stabilized her as he fucked her gullet full of his anguish, faltering confidence and anxiety. Each glark represented the negativity within his heart and soul, surrounding his supposed craft. I should just… give up.

“There’s no need to do this,” said another female voice.

Shame flushed his spirit, and the assault on Dacia’s throat paused. He pulled her off, so thick strands of saliva drooped from her mouth, and she said, “Don’t listen to that bitch. You don’t wanna write. You can’t do that shit anyhow. Feed into me, motherfucker.”

“Chris.” The other woman touched his right shoulder, and he looked in her direction. The concern on her face as she caressed him hit differently compared to Dacia’s cock gobbling.

Dacia glared at Chris’ other guest. “As you can see, Leilani, he’s busy.”

“True,” Leilani said, “Being filled with negativity and being drained of his motivation to create.”

“Why create when he can do this to me?” Dacia looked at Chris. “Give in to me in front of her.”

“Wait,” Chris said. “Leilani’s right. I should… write.” He stood and turned to his dark-skinned, afro-wielding guest, wearing her flouncy, white dress. Her acceptance and trust washed over Chris. He caressed her cheek, and she sucked his thumb, treating it like fruit that deserved savouring for as long as possible.

“Yes,” she said after releasing his thumb. “You have a gift that should be shared with the world. Dacia’s wrong. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“I do know what I’m talking about!” Dacia thundered as she sprung to her feet, and her eyeballs fully blackened.

“Then why is he allowing me in now?” Leilani interlocked her fingers with Chris’, leaned in, and they met halfway for a tender, tongue-swivelling kiss. His erection pressed into her stomach, and she backed off, looking into his soul. “Make love to me – to the idea of creating more art. Make love to a more positive outlook.”

“How dare you,” Dacia grumbled, her eyes still obsidian orbs. She then focused on Chris. “Do you really want to make sweet love to the idea of making more art, or do you wanna destroy all of my holes with that pent-up rage, confusion and anxiety stirring about in there, eh?” She rubbed a palm over his chest while Leilani observed.

“He’s feeling to create now, and I will help him.” Leilani wrapped her fingers around the base of his penis.

“I think he’s a bit unsure. Ideas might suck? Prose may be too simple. Who’ll care?” Dacia folded her fist around the top of Chris’ penis.

Both made him groan in acceptance and frustration. Those emotions, competing for his attention, exhausted him in a never-ending battle to remain relevant. At least, it seemed that way.

Chris yanked Dacia’s hair, tilting her face upwards, and a husky laugh escaped her frame. She opened her mouth wide, exposing its glistening interior.

“Give in to me,” Dacia said and then stuck out her tongue.

He trailed a thin strand of saliva onto the pink muscle, so she lapped it up, then kissed him passionately. Lust and self-doubt mingled as he pushed her to squat.

“Hate fuck my mouth.” Dacia’s lips gleamed with drool from her earlier work, and Chris fisted a ball of curls with one hand and cock-slapped her features with the other.

“Why relent to hate when you can cherish me instead?” Leilani knelt next to Ms. Darq and pleaded with her big, innocent stare. Chris pointed his dick in Leilani’s direction, and she took over with both hands. The handjob/slow blowjob combo probably outclassed the top-ranked masseuses in existence. She slowly twisted her hands along his shaft and repeatedly smooched the tip. When Leilani bowed and swallowed to the pubic bone, Chris’ conscience visited several planes within seconds. The warmth and care she employed fueled him with the necessary confidence to step forth and create, usually.

“So what’re you going to scribble about, huh?” Dacia asked. “I mean, really. What new reason can you come up with for people to fuck?”

Leilani backed away, and a beady trail of spit bridging the tip of her tongue and Chris’ dick snapped when she said, “New ideas are rare, but how you present them and the characters involved supersedes all. Ignore her.” Leilani bowed and smooched the glans, making it inflate to match her swollen lips.

“What a sack of shit.” Dacia massaged Chris’ balls while Leilani licked the slit, fully representing his conflict regarding the appropriate direction to take. Eventually, self-loathing took the lead, and he pulled his meat from Leilani’s grasp, then slapped Dacia’s naughty countenance again. “That’s it, slap my whore face. You knew whatever you typed would’ve su– ”

Chris rammed his cock into her yammering trap. Her laugh vibrated around his column before he held her skull again and fucked it, filling the room with vowel-dense gagging. After a minute, he dragged her by the hair toward his mattress and pushed her mug into it, leaving her ass in the air.

“Don’t believe her.” Leilani stood, walked to the bed and lay on her back next to an on-all-fours Dacia. “Make sweet love to the creativity within your heart.

Her words charged his body with warmth, as did the sight of her wet cunt, but Chris pivoted to flip Dacia’s skirt over her rump and beat each cheek with his engorged erection.

“Fuck me,” Dacia said, her eyes flashing darkness before returning to human-friendly tones.

Chris slammed into her with a single thrust. She growled and grunted as he remained bottomed out in her cunt, and that egged him on to continue. The harder her cheeks clapped, the further he fell from his creative desires.

“Please…” Leilani reached out to Chris, and part of him wanted to reciprocate, but another part strained to indicate his orgasm’s quick approach.

“You lose, bitch.” Dacia smirked at a glossy-eyed Leilani before Chris loaded her mischievous cunt with spurts of thick jizz.

“Maybe the battle…” Leilani got to her feet and kissed Chris, “…but not the war.”

“As if.” Dacia pushed Chris off, stood, and semen squelched out of her cunt to run down her thighs. She rolled her skirt down, turned and waved at the others as she faded out of sight.

“Why do you persist with me, even though I finish with her more than I do with you?” Chris asked Leilani.

“Because I believe in you. You writing a piece because I won once out of five encounters, means more than the four times you abandoned it due to her malice.”

His expression turned sad, but she held his face, pecked his lips and began to fade as she said, “We will unite once again.”

Chris closed the laptop lid. Hope brought on a smile because somehow, someway, he believed that Ms. Light would one day prevail again.