The Rewards of Writing

I sit at my computer and my mind is filled with smut.
With pussies and with titties and with fucking in the butt.
I try describing sexy stuff I have described before.
I place it on a desk or in the dirt or on the floor.

I write of close encounters ‘tween the women and the men,
Of groups of three or groups of five or maybe even ten.
I write of naked women all cavorting in a bed
Or men with other men or in a toilet giving head.

I don’t expect to ever win a prize for writing it.
The Nobel Prize Committee never seems to give a shit.
A Pulitzer is something that I don’t expect to win.
So why, then, do I write if recognition is so thin?

The very best reward that I can ever hope to get,
Is from a woman writing me to say I got her wet,
And that she frigged herself while reading something I had writ
And how I help her get off with her fingers on her clit.

So, Ladies, if you like the tales I’m writing on this site,
Just let me know; an email is an easy thing to write.
And if you do, I promise that I’ll keep on writing more,
For readers’ praises are the only things I’m writing for.