Tuesday Silliness *Warning: Immature Adult Content*

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.

He walked into the room looking sender than ever. I could immediately feel the heat in my face as it began to flash. He looked at me in the most sensuous way, instantly creative tangles up and down my spine. “I thought you were a dream,” I told him breathlessly. He said not a word, but reached for the tie at his waist. My eyes driftwood download as his hands worked the knee free and the robe fell to the floor. My breath hatched as I took in the size of his clock. If I wasn’t dreaming then I had to be in an alternate really.

“Liechtenstein download,” he demanded of me. I felt as thought I were being hypnotherapy. I could do little to resist. Beds of sweet stood out on my forward. I gazed into his almond colours eyes and waited for the first touchscreen of his hands. He grinned at me as he stroked the outcome of my thesis with his fingertips. I moated gently and sightseeing as he continued his journey upward. His hands cupped my breaks, hungrily searching for my nippers. My background arched involuntarily as his fingers building up speed. “I want your think duck inside me,” I bagged. “You can’t rush a fantasy,” he replied.

“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.