Every drop of ink in my pen ran cold.  

That's Horace Walpole's chilling description of writer's block.  Real ink, like water, drips in drops or, preferably, flows smoothly from the nib of a fountain pen.  Other writing utensils, having a family resemblance to fountain pens, are also called "pens" even if they use ink gels or pastes in their roller ball, ball point, or other mechanisms.  But in a fountain pen, the ink flows by capillary action to the nib and onto the paper in a delightfully sensuous way.  

 In fact, for those of us that use fountain pens, the entire enterprise is sensuous.  Each pen, like a lover, has its distinctive look and feel.  Each bottle of ink its own color and characteristics.  Each nib its own width, feel, and flexibility.  The combinations, especially when using different papers, are beguilingly complicated and certainly exceed the number of positions described in the Kama Sutra.  

When I look at my own modest collection of fountain pens, a mere two dozen or so, many with customized italic nibs, and a dozen or so bottles of inks in various shades and colors, I am reminded of nothing so much as an orgy, a smorgasbord of delightful possibilities.  

The innate sensuality of fountain pens is emphasized in many of the photographs of fountain pens that adorn fountain pen web sites, fountain pen quarterly magazines, and fountain pen catalogs.  Fountain pens are shown capped and, teasingly, uncapped.  Fountain pens recline on beds of dark purple, brown, or black velvet.  Carefully airbrushed models, shown in virginal poses without human hands or actual writing, are offered to discriminating collectors for thousands of dollars.  

The Freudian significance of fountain pens, especially when dipped into ink bottles for filling, is obvious.  But, like cigars, sometimes a fountain pen is also just a fountain pen.  Then again, sometimes a fountain pen is a social statement.  

I'm a CIO, Chief Information Officer, for a medium-sized company and spend my days amidst the latest technology, networks, wireless gadgets, and new applications.  It always creates a moment of cognitive dissonance for visitors, vendors, and other CIOs when in a meeting  I casually take a fountain pen from my shirt pocket, uncap it, and use it to take notes or sign documents.  It's my way of saying that although I am bound up in this modern world of technology, I have not sold my soul to it.  Nor will I as long as the ink flows smoothly from my favorite nib, making a wonderfully black line on the smooth, creamy, surface of my stationery.  The best word processor is, by comparison, just another writing utensil.