You bastard!"That's another thing. When you write fiction, your imagination runs continuously, sort of like a hard drive that doesn't have a "sleep" f...ature. And inanimate objects get personified in a way that normal people would report to their shrink.Of course writers don't go to shrinks. They write instead, and all that garbage inside them pours onto the page, instead of in one of the Doctor's ears and out the other as he wonders what his lovely wife is going to present him with at dinner. The I have another stroke of genius. "I wish there was a copy of my cock that I had removed from Mia's side table back in there. Oh and I wish that I could feel the sensations of it just like last night." Then you get my cell out and text Mia."Hey sis, I know it's been a crazy night and it's late, but I need to know where you got rid of that dildo last night. It's weird, but I've actually got to give it to Matt tomorrow. We had a competition and that was my entry."A minute later and Mia checks. More

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