Oh Auto-correct. Sometimes you make life easier and fix my stupid mistakes and sometimes, well sometimes you just don’t make any sense at all.
Have you ever had a serious knock-down-drag-out fight with your phone? I mean the variety where you keep trying to get it to input a certain word and it keeps deciding it knows better than you and replacing it with something else? My phone and I have this type of stormy relationship. I will often go back two or three times and replace the same word it has “fixed,” before I am able to get it right. Sometimes I send a text or comment reply and later realise it has struck again. So, I thought in honour of Technology Tuesday (that might be a real thing,) I would write a post allowing auto-correct to help me out.
The following erotic love scene was written courtesy of using auto-correct on my Samsung galaxy note III. This is why we don’t write books from our phone and why it is auto-correct and not author-correct. Oh my. Please forgive me for this, I’m on a lot of medications.
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“I want to such your disk,” I moaned.
“This is all about you,” he replenished.
Teasing my earlier lobe with the top of his tongue. After a few minutes of further torture, he flipped me on top of him. I straddled his mainly thighs and settled myself down onto his pulsating mango. “You have an incredible pushy.” I closed my eyes and malted into him, enjoying every sensational. “I need your cocktail.”
“Funk me. Funk me harder.” We both began to shudder and shake. I didn’t want the moment to endorse. I woke to the south of my alarm. That must have been some night since my alarm click was to the west of me the night before.