The Best of Sommer Marsden Book Tour

For the fantastical The Best of Sommer Marsden Book Tour, I wanted to address an age old question faced by many dirty, dirty writers. Is this story true?

I’ve chosen five stories from my collection and have answered the question: True? False?…Mebbe?
I’ll warn you, most of them are a mix of true and false but don’t fall squarely in mebbe. Mebbe is the coy category where the writer says: I’ll let you decide.

Here at SexyReads, we’ll talk about Sticky Notes. Possibly one of my favorite stories ever. Ever! No lie.

At least the beginning part of this tale is a resounding true. True! I did this one night. After wine and sex and a particularly hot movie. I took a bright pink sticky note and scrawled exactly what you see in the first missive from Loren to her husband. And then I stuck it to the coffee pot where it would be seen.

As for the man’s answers… did they match Steven’s? Here’s where we slide into the realm of mebbe. Possibly. Possibly not. Our hero’s first answer is a pretty standard fantasy, but alas, the actual answer I received is not mine to share. But in the story the scenario goes on, the sex inspired by this series of sticky notes is staggering. Each encounter and brightly colored square of paper leading to the next:

That part is also true. Sticky note led to sticky note led to sticky note. And the sex between notes…Well worth every little piece of paper stuck across the kitchen. Both in the story and in real life.

As for whether or not Loren and Steve explored them all, that’s for you to find out. As for me and the man…well…um…mebbe. I give you a resounding mebbe!

Sticky Notes Excerpt:

I’d like to blame it on the wine but I’m not much of a liar. I will chalk it up to a really good sweaty romp and then a rather erotic thriller. The movie got me going all over again but by the time the good parts were over, it was time for Steven to go to bed.

‘Good night, love.’ He ruffled my short blonde hair and gave me a long lingering kiss. ‘We need to do that again tomorrow but for now I’m off to bed. Early morning.’ And he was gone and I was horny. Again. I finished my wine, flipped through a magazine, and read a sex survey. That didn’t help. Basically, I stewed in my own juices, so to speak.

I was just about to give up. Throw in the towel. When it hit me. Again, maybe the wine, maybe the thriller, maybe the fuck. I really don’t know what did it. I didn’t care. I grabbed the pad of sticky notes from the desk and began writing furiously. When I went to bed, it was stuck to the coffee pot.

My little love note for Steven.

What do you want? Your wildest fantasy (or fantasies).
Anything you want. Spill!
Love,
Loren

I had forgotten the note in the morning. It was Saturday so I lingered in bed. I was sad, I’ll admit, that Steven had to go to work. His side of the bed, cold and unoccupied was enough to make me want to call him and tell him to come home. Come home and fuck your woman. In my mind’s eye I could see myself dialing my cell. I could hear myself making this giggling but authoritative command. He had to work, though,
and I was fine with that. I was just lonely.

I ran my hands over my soft negligee. Felt my nipples turn to hard pink pearls under my fingers. My pussy went soft and wet and I let out a sigh. Somehow, as horny as I was, the thought of rubbing one off alone in bed was disappointing. I would go downstairs and make some coffee and wait until Steve got home. Then I would attack him like a horny mountain lion.

I was still laughing at the thought of a hormone-induced attack on my studly guy when I wandered into the kitchen.

There it was. Hot pink. Innocent to look at. A sticky note for me.

TO SEE YOU WITH ANOTHER WOMAN. NO
TOUCHING FOR ME. JUST WATCHING.
LOVE
STEVE

Somehow the sight of his answer, boldly printed all in caps, did me in. I did it right there. Clutching at the pantry door, fingers working furiously and wetly under my nightie. It only took a few minutes. My fingers diving greedily into my humid wet cunt, my thumb rubbing roughly but expertly over my clit. I stared at the words as I came in one long, delicious spasm. Little animal sounds rushed out of my throat and I collapsed on the cold linoleum in a glowing, warm heap.

I needed to leave him notes more often.

My fingers still tacky and shaking, my knees still knocking, I claimed the hot pink square and stuck it firmly in my day planner. I made my coffee, enjoyed my afterglow and mentally calculated how many hours I had to wait for him to get home.

‘I’m home!’ Steven’s face lit with a tired but happy grin.

‘Thank God! Oooph?’

The last part was my fault. I launched myself at him like a lusty groupie and kissed him long and hard. I pushed my tongue past his soft lips and tangled it with his. I plundered that hot sensuous mouth and pushed my wet pussy against his belt buckle, my legs tightly clamped around his lean middle.

‘Did you miss me?’ he laughed as I slid my tongue down his neck, nuzzling him at the base where his cologne seems to settle. A nice warm, manly scent that hovers in the hollow of his throat.

His big hands palmed my ass and he groaned. Shifting me a little lower so my crotch was level with his, I could feel the growing bulge of his awakening cock.

‘I liked your note,’ I sighed and pushed myself against his hard-on. Shameless hussy. That’s me.

‘I can tell.’

‘Come on, come on, come on,’ I was practically barking as I set my feet on the cold floor and pulled him toward the sofa.

‘Off with the jeans! Off with the shirt!’ I directed, stripping my leggings and sweatshirt off.

‘As long as you don’t say, ‘Off with his head!’,’ he chuckled. But he obeyed.

He soon stood before me completely naked, his beautiful cock a blushing purple and standing straight up toward his flat belly.

‘On the sofa!’ I could hear my demanding tone but couldn’t seem to control it. I was in a fog. A thick fog of lust and need. I always wanted Steven, but right now I needed him. My body thumped with a pulse of arousal and craving. I need him. Hard cock. Hot cunt. His. In mine.

Now. I straddled him, the soft green sofa cushions engulfing my knees. Without preamble I sank down onto his dick, sighing with what sounded like relief to my own ears. Within three desperate strokes, my thighs were soaked from my own juices.

‘Correspondence is inspiring,’ Steven muttered as his eyes rolled back in his head. He looked like he was in pain.

‘Am I hurting you?’ I grunted. It was all I could manage. I admit, though, I didn’t slow my frenzied pace for even a moment.

‘Fuck no!’ He grabbed my hips as if for emphasis. Big fingers digging into my soft, flushed skin and propelling me faster with his strong hands. His hips pumped up as he drove into me.

‘Best note ever…’ I mumbled as my cunt seized up, gripped him greedily and then fluttered around him as my orgasm roared through all of me. Even the roots of my hair tingled and I swore I heard myself cry out, ‘Evvvvvver …!’

Steven yanked me against him and I felt him pump into me. Hot wet come. Filling me. For the first time ever I really felt it, the incredibly warm emptying of his body into mine.

I collapsed, exhausted and panting onto his chest; our breathing creating a nice little cha-cha number.

‘Sorry about the ninja attack,’ I giggled but my wet insides still fluttered and pulsed around his deflating cock. It would work for every last flicker of pleasure, it seemed.

‘Loren, you can go ninja on my ass any day of the week.’ And then he kissed me.

Steven went to bed early that night. I think I wore him out.

I weighed the pros and cons and then my mind flashed to that first seductive moment of my body engulfing his and my mind was made up. Before I locked up for the night, I grabbed my faithful sticky notes and wrote another. I was humming merrily as I shut off the kitchen light. I could see its little square shadow as I left. I smiled, knowing what it said.

What else! I’m begging. Hands and knees. Tell me.
Love,
Loren

Available in The Best of Sommer Marsden.