So I told him all my dirty secrets...

Well, I don't know if they are really dirty but I told him whatever he wanted to know. Who? Ashley Lister. Can you believe that? Ashley Lister interviewed me for ERWA!

I was so excited to see it go live in the May/June issue. I emailed AT. She said: "You should bend over and moon!"

And I thought: what? (but I was willing despite not understanding what this would accomplish).

Then I read it again. And it ACTUALLY SAID: "You should be over the moon!"

I am! And I am also apparently (very recently) reading impaired. But that's okay because the interview counts, to me, as a very good thing!

XOXO
Sommer

This blog brought to you by the letter...

Good. What do you mean 'Good' is not a letter? Fine. This blog brought to you by the word "Good." Boy, you guys are real ball busters, aren't ya?




Here are some good things:

Thanks to yesterdays temper tantrum...urm...post, I received some lovely emails and people have let loose with some Hell yeah's of their own! I found out I was in The Sweetest Kiss edited by D.L. King. And in Peep Show edited by RKB. Yay! I received an awesome email from a veritable stranger thanks to the Hey, Stranger blog that made my day.



In further news, Haven's art was a hit, hit, hit. There is talk of sheet production. Erobintica's car recovered from its mysterious illness and cerulean "blessed my heart" which never fails to further warm my cockles. A very cool, funny local character, William P. Tandy is guest blogging at UTNE and he made me proud to be a Baltimore native who has seen a painted screen or two. Alison Tyler is no longer confused as to what the "F" in my name stands for, but she likes to punch the 'r's'. Hard.

Craig had to contain himself in the wee hours due to the blog and he wondered if I was too much. As if! Jo, Gigi and Confidant were on board, though Jo worried about Oprah's take on the profanity. J.M. Stone is apparently getting busy with some tomatoes. We'll check in with her later. Neve is drooling (over art, not in general) and Marina is off today. Rock on! And EllaRegina is appreciating Haven's massive...erm...talents.

And if you, dear reader, are wondering what the merry fuck I am talking about. Go here! And keep it going. If you get any good news or have something fun, positive, non-swine-flu related to share--I am your booty call. I mean pit stop! I mean...I'm your girl. I have my pencil ready and I'm ready to put it on the record.

XOXO
Sommer

Tell me something good...tell me that you like it, yeah...

An open letter to Oprah and the like:

I cannot take another economy, jobs cuts, unemployment, homelessness, swine flu, flesh eating bacteria, pedophilia, child pornography, death, dismemberment, lead poisoning, human trafficking, brain damage, sex addict, sexually ambiguous preacher person, judgmental bullshit show. I cannot stand one more program designed to jump on the shock bandwagon. I cannot stand one more shock feature. I do not need to know about a woman who cut her finger and then was suddenly devoured by invisible flesh eating beasties. I mean, I know this shit exists. We *all* know it exists. But I do not need it shoved down my throat, rooted in my ear canals, planted like poison seeds in my brain.

So to those of you who can only shock me, scare me, make me cry, make me anxious...I. Will. Turn. You. Off.

I know there is job loss, unemployment, a sucky economy and whatnot not because you tell me 24/7/365...but because the man got to keep his job in a huge swipe. His boobie prize was getting to sit down with people he cared about and tell them that *they* did *not* get to keep *theirs*. I mean, does it get any better? That is the bonus from Hell, is it not?

And I have a friend who is funny and awesome and wonderful who is going through a total nightmare and is weathering it with way more courage, grace and humor than I could ever manage in this particular lifetime.

And someone else who has lost a loved one.

So, here's what I'm saying: I will not listen to you--no matter how big or small your forum may be. I do not need you to spotlight everything that is wrong right now. I need someone to tell me something good. And no! I do not mean a gorilla grooming a kitty cat or a dog nursing a lost skunk. I mean something good. And for fuck's sake, remember when you are talking to other people that they are trapped in their own personal vortex of woes. Be gentle with each other. Be nice. I don't care if I sound hippie dippy. Be. Fucking. Nice. (or else)

If you have bought a book recently, thank you. Not my book, necessarily. *Any* book. If you told someone they looked pretty. Helped a neighbor. Dressed up for your man (woman). Made someone laugh. Stuck up for someone. Pointed out something POSITIVE. Played nice. Smiled at a stranger. Held the door for someone. Sang your kid a silly song. Walked around the house naked. Turned on stupid TV and turned off shock TV. Believed that you would work things out and held in your mind the image that things would be okay. That one day you would laugh but for right now you would take comfort in the people you love and your friends and the good stuff you can find right now then...Thank. You.

Okay. I'm done. There is my temper tantrum. Tell me something good. (((Tell me that you like it. Yeah...)))

Here is my good thing~My very talented friend has a store. Rock on, H.

XOXO
Sommer

hello, stranger...

Buy me a drink?

Okay. Well, you really don't have to buy me a drink. But I would like to know you somehow. Strangers are fun but getting to know a teeny snippet about them is uh..funner? Bottom line is I am doing a few deadlines at once. And then there is all the other stuff going on. Popping in to peek at my statcounter is a treat. When I do, I keep seeing hits that pop up every day. Regular people who come to see what is what. So this is a call to you lurkers, readers, and peeking at what's going on-ers. Show me a glimmer of yourself. Let me see a sock? An earring? One eye? The color of your eyes!? Something.

I am nothing if not nosy. Pick a venue, any venue. Drop me a line here, email me at hot4sommer at yahoo dot com, find me because I am on Facebook. Or hell, be my friend on myspace. Sign my book at Dirty, Dirty Girl. Bottom line, throw me a bone. I am so damn curious, I need just a little...taste. Please...I am begging. Yes. That's it. Begging.

XOXO

Sommer

Hey, hey, hey, but I like it when that lightning comes...

Hey, hey, hey. Yes, I like it a lot...Sorry, I was channeling my inner Robert Smith. This is just to say that my story "Lightning Rod" is the free story at Ruthie's at the moment. It will show on the gateway page (go to site, hit enter, lower right under "Free Story of the Week"). No membership needed to read it. And I have to say, I really loved this story. I'm really proud of this particular haunted tale. I think you have today--maybe tomorrow--to read it for free so...run!

Also, if you are willing to do a review of Lucky 13, contact me at hot4sommer at yahoo dot com. I have three reviewer copies to give away. First come, first served. I will contact those who will get copies via email. If you do not hear from me by the end of the day, then I am out of reviewer copies.

Happy...what day is it? *ruffles papers*...Tuesday! Happy Tuesday!

XOXO
Sommer

Do you feel lucky? Well...do ya?

I do! I do feel lucky (((punk))). My anthology Lucky 13: Thirteen Tales of Getting Lucky is available today! Wahoo! From eXcessica, Amazon Kindle, Fictionwise and other fine and reputable vendors. And...in...print! [insert giddy happy dance here]

Here is my shiny blurb:

Couples, three ways, hook-ups, masturbation that might end in death - today’s sex scene is anything but boring. From a man who meets his fantasy woman for some “light bondage” to the escapades of a sex toy selling sexpert. It’s all here and then some.

Sommer Marsden has assembled some of her finest. A three way with the boss from hell, a hook up that’s only supposed to last one night but turns into so much more. Featuring some of the author’s favorites such as: She Looked Good In Ribbons, Underpass and Pause - Lucky 13 brings you a baker’s dozen of filthy tales to satisfy every naughty urge.

Stay tuned because I'm going to mail out a few copies for those willing to review. Once I get mine. And...you know...roll naked on them and whatnot. Just kidding! Uh...mostly.

XOXO
Sommer

“Spread your legs for me. Come on, let’s play nice, okay?”

Part three of my novella Bittersweet will be up in the midnight-ish range at Ruthie's. Here's a peek at the after dinner treat.

Off to bed. Tomorrow is a big day for me. Am super excited. It might even be my lucky day. And don't forget to give me your lawn chair answer if you're so inclined! ;)

XOXO
Sommer

From Bittersweet

by Sommer Marsden

“Come here, Rayka.”

She scrambled up off the floor and he helped her. He took her hand to help steady her like she was rising from an elegant dinner table than rising from the floor that was damp with her tears. He turned her without a word and placed a hot, gentle kiss at the base of her neck. He kissed slowly over her shoulder and gathered her wrists in his hand. He held her arms captive behind her back and kissed further down her spine as her body thumped with a pulse of its own. Her inner thighs were slick with her want of him, her need of him inside of her.

“Please, please,” she begged. Not caring one lick that she was begging a man to fuck her. Not caring that it was all so foreign. The submission, the begging and worst of all, the blind, blind trust in him.

“Hold on, baby. We’re getting there.” He laughed softly and cupped her breast with his hand, pulling her back against his chest. Her arms bent back a bit too harshly but she breathed through the discomfort and focused on the pleasure. “Spread your legs for me. Come on, let’s play nice, okay?”

She nodded at the soft caress of his voice on her shoulder and she parted her legs. Felt more of her moisture slip free of her body. Her pussy clenched, wanting to be filled, missing his fingers and his touch.

His hand tightened on her wrists and she winced, but then groaned aloud as the velvety head of his cock probed at her. He pushed just the head in and her body flexed around him, twitched as if to draw him in. He waited. Waited until Rayka let out a strangled little cry. She thought she might go insane if he didn’t slide into her. No more. No more! But she bit her tongue to avoid further punishment. Punishment she was sure would involve denying her sex. No matter how much he wanted her or how crimson his dick grew.

She started to count in her head. If he didn’t move by ten, she would push back against him. She would. Punishment be damned.

Eight…Nine…

Deacon thrust up into her and when her body buckled, when she started to come undone, he caught her. He gathered her close, her back pressed to his chest, his hands wrapped around her waist as he thrust higher and faster up into her.

Lawn Chair Interviews...

One of my biggest compliments to hand out is if I say I could sit in a lawn chair and drink a beer with you and be entertained. I love that feeling of dusk and lightning bugs and a cold beer and a good breeze and...some tasty bits of information.

I've been playing with an idea lately and decided to totally scrap my original intention. At first I wanted to interview people one at a time with some really odd questions. But there are lots of great interviewers around (Ashley Lister (he of ERWA) and Alison Tyler (she of the Trollop Salon) spring to mind instantly). But I am damn nosy. Nosy to the um...bone. So here is what I have decided to do. I'm going to do it backwards. I'm going to interview everyone at once. One question at a time. Grab a lawn chair and share with me. Wontcha?

If you want to share, I'll be giddy to hear your answer. If not, well, just be a voyeur with me.

First question. Ready? You have eight dollars and eleven cents in your wallet right this minute. All of your necessities for the week have been met (food, gas, bills). What are you buying with that money? How will you piddle away your tiny bit of fun money for the week?

My answer:
I will spring for a candy run for the kids (Sprees for me, Three Musketeers for the man, treat for each for them) = 2
then 2 Lotto tickets so I can be a millionaire = 4

used books at library (on special, four for a buck) = 5
rent a movie on Friday night = 7.50
leave 61 cents for postage most likely...

Now you.

XOXO
Sommer

Today Otis says...

These arms of mine
They are lonely,
lonely and feeling blue
These arms of mine
They are yearning,
yearning from wanting you

These Arms of Mine

Otis Redding

I'm having fun revealing the playlist in my head. Today's is a goodie. I'm walking around singing Otis. And it doesn't get any better. I've had a long long love affair with Otis's music. Yesterday was the best day, finished off with the best possible ending. I'll give you a hint. I found out my hair is now officially long enough for a) pigtails (which I knew) and b) fuck knots (which I now know). But I was completely happy and willing to comb them out considering how I got them.

Am going to wear a sundress today it is so warm. And yes, panties. Jeesh. ;)~

XOXO
Sommer

And today's song...

Life goes by so fast,

You only want to do what you think is right,

Close your eyes and it's passed~story of my life...

Story of My Life

Social Distortion

I have an afternoon concert today and I cannot decide on a dress or a really cool Indian print skirt I have. Or my jewelry, I am obsessed with which earrings to pull out. I blame her for making me all girly, cool and flirty this week. I do know I will be wearing my (too long for me) hair down and windblown and crazy. Blond streaks, yellow streaks and yes, silver streaks hanging out for the world to see. I am starting to like the long hair. Don't tell anyone.

Then guests for dinner. Steaks on the grill, corn on the cob, wine, sunshine! Outside! No computer! I am so damn excited I could tinkle. But I um...I won't. Not here, anyways.

Happy Saturday!

XOXO
Sommer

Now Playing~from the playlist in my head...

Ya know that I want your lovin'
But Mr. Logic, Mr. Logic says it never gonna happen
And then my defenses say, well, i didn't want it anyway
But you know, sometimes i'm a liar

Did you ever want me to love you?
Did you ever want me to care?
Disregard my nervousness,
Please ignore my vacant stare...

Promise
Violent Femmes

God, I love the Femmes! Managed 1K and then the day got the better of me. I will not shake a stick at 1K, though. I will not shake a stick, period. But...you know what I mean.

XOXO
Sommer

Weekend Plans: me and the boys...

So the plan is to spend the next few days with these two hotties. I have a story I am truly psyched to write and I am going to make myself do it. I sat and sketched it out in the doc's office the other day and the whole damn thing is in my head. It's getting the ass in the seat long enough to get the 8K + down. The weather has been so good and my procrastination levels have been super high (after last weeks successful finished project). So...that is my goal along with a To Do list as long as my very long leg.

I could look at this picture all day long, by the way. It is supremely sexy but so very sweet, too. And that matches my story perfectly. Scorching but sweet. So yeah...they are hawt in my humble opinion.

Beyond that let's see: have missed some antho submission deadlines (try not to tailspin over this), trying projects I would never take on (ditto no tailspinning), in a holding pattern with the big project I refuse to think about but seem to be constantly obsessing over in the recesses of my head (read as in perpetual tailspin with this). Am wondering at what point in life one stops feeling like a spaz and starts feeling like a grown up...you know--the usual ;)~

XOXO
Sommer

Portmanteau Words and Lipstick on Her Collar...

Portmanteau word: n. A word formed by merging the sounds and meanings of different words.

The man told me about these the other day. Yes, yes, I know! I am a) a writer and b) was an English major and never ever had heard of this term. Fun, yeah? I had to make one up!

Mine is fuckstrated. As in: "I have spent the better part of this week swinging wildly between damn near giddy and totally fuckstrated" (fucking+frustrated = fuckstrated)

smog is one. smoke+fog=smog
Brangelina Brad+Angelina=Brangelina (or in Sommer speak: "Who fucking cares! Everyone get a life and stop stalking famous people!).

There are others but I am too lazy to think about it. So, I was so fuckstrated this week, that when I was supposed to be putting away laundry, I randomly grabbed a smut book from the shelf. I do this often. (Just ask Jo). Anyway, what I pulled off was Lipstick On Her Collar edited by Sacchi Green and Rakelle Valencia. I ended up reading Rakelle's story because that is where I opened the book. Might I say That's Horse Breakin' is a phenomenal story? Can I say that? I can because it is my blog! Anyway, it is. It got me right in the solar plexus. And I'm not an easy target, so if you get me...you earned it.

Off to run. Have not run in weeks due to the rotator cuff sprain. This is a test run. I feel a slow and stumbly coming on. Or should I say slumbly?

Got a personal portmanteau word? Share, share, share!

XOXO
Sommer

Yeah, I am!

Every couple has a catch phrase, I think. Ours is: "yeah, I am!" (or appropriate variation).

As in, "Baby, you are annoying me."

"Yeah, I am!"

"Honey, you are being a goof."

"Yeah, I am!"

"You're hot."

"Yeah, I am!"

"You're too loud."

"Yeah, I am!"

"You have the flu."

"Yeah, I do!"

So the other night I'm on the computer and the man comes up behind me and he's grabbing my um...my...ta-ta's. But I mean grabbing. And kneading. And pulling. And he hit me in the wrong way at the wrong moment and I said, "God! What are you milking a cow?"

And without thinking he says, "Yeah, I am!"

**************DEAD****SILENCE********************

"A *thin*...*beautiful*....cow."

He would have been in trouble if I hadn't been laughing so damn hard. Yeah, I was!

XOXO
Sommer
p.s. please do not confuse the thin, beautiful cow with AT's gay cows...

I want to run naked through a lush green forest...

No really I do, but that got your attention...didn't it? Come on, admit it. It is Earth Day! And look what comes out today. Another fabulous steamy anthology from Alessia Brio. And I am in it. Woohoo!! Other fabulous writers include Selena Kitt, Robin Elizabeth, Rita Winchester and Giselle Renarde.

You can purchase Coming Together Al Fresco (I think that means nekkid and outside and whatnot) here. And you too can run naked through a lush green forest to celebrate Earth Day. Or just your backyard. Whatever floats your um...boat.

Here is a dirty snippet of outdoor sex...

From Anal Alley
by Sommer Marsden


I pulled him toward a dumpster and stood in front of him. I shifted a little, my clit already thumping at what I was about to say. He looked amused and slightly confused. I turned him so he faced the dumpster, he went willingly enough, trusting me. I pressed my pelvis against his ass. Raised his hands and placed them flat against the flat gray metal. I pushed into him so he could feel and I heard his breath hiss in with surprise.

“Now, I want you to unbutton your jeans and slide them down,” I said softly but firmly.

“Julia--"

“Change your mind?” I asked, rubbing the silicone dildo tucked into my panties against his ass crack. It had been a feat to stuff it in there, let alone keeping it behaved all evening.

“No. I just didn’t realize--”

“That I’d want to?” I asked, cutting him off again. I smoothed my palms along his broad muscular back. Wanted to see it taut from the feel of me fucking him. My clit felt alive and swollen and nearly unbearable behind the leather harness I wore. The boy shorts on top of all my equipment wasn’t the most comfortable get up but the arousal coursing through me made up for it. In a big, big way.

“No. Not that,” he said over his shoulder. I could barely see his face. I wished I had chosen a better lit spot because I wanted to see everything. I would have to settle for half of his face glowing in the bluish white light. “ I just didn’t realized that I’d want to,” he said and took my hand. When he pulled it to his zipper and pushed against me I could feel how hard his cock was.

XOXO
Sommer

Handsome men and hot sexy [deleted]...

I'm off for the day. I've got nothing to share. Last night, I finished interview, watched Paranormal State, got freaked out again, staggered up to bed, curled in next to the man and zonked. Visions of orgasms danced in my head. I'm still feeling the pleasant numbing effect of last night and ready to face my day. The numbing aspect is a blessing, the X-rated images in my head is a bonus. Heh heh. While I'm gone, why not read some free smut and [deleted] vote! Or look at some pretty pictures of a handsome man. Or, look at some pretty pictures *by* a handsome man.

I'll be back later. Wish me luck! I know you don't know for what, but wish me luck anyhow! Because you lurvvvvve me. ;)~

XOXO
Sommer

Love and Medicinal Orgasms...

Horrible, awful, horrendous day. Staring down the mouth of horrible, awful, horrendous week.

Enter man waving current Playboy. "You're lucky month, babe. Your boy Chuck is the interview."

I grabbed, ran, dove right in. Giddy and thankful and blissed out to the Nth degree for such a perfect distraction.

I stopped to finally pour a glass of wine but got grabbed instead. Dragged upstairs, bent, done, kissed and orgasmed until I could not feel my toes. Ending in a rousing game of how sticky can we get her hair and...

I am staring into the jowls of possibly one of the worst weeks of my life. And...I don't care. I can cope. Because a) I still have half the interview left to read b) I have had three, count 'em, three 'medicinal orgasms' c) and I'm loved. Magically. Perfectly. Totally loved. And I think the final one is the sexiest one of all.

XOXO
Sommer
p.s. If I owe you emails, comments, etc, please be patient with me. I'm plugging along. No. Not that kind of plug...

He bet different parts of her had different flavors...

Yay! The second installment of Bittersweet is up at Ruthie's today. Here is a sweet little taste. Just for the record, my favorite chocolate is orange creams enrobed (that's right, enrobed) in dark chocolate. And you?


From Bittersweet
by Sommer Marsden

“Yes, it’s me. What are you doing? Or what were you doing?” he said, letting just a bit of his dark humor tinge his words.

He heard her suck in a breath as if she’d been caught. He took a chance. After all, she could take offense, be horrified, and break their date. Or she might go along with him. Answer his rude questioning. He pushed.

“Were you touching yourself, Rayka?”

“No! Oh, no. I was...”

He could imagine the red stain of mortification on her pale cheeks. She had the lightest fawn-colored freckles on the apples of her cheeks. He wanted to run his tongue over each one to see if it had a taste or a feel. He bet different parts of her had different flavors. Or, at the very least, to him they would. Her earlobe would taste different than the nape of her neck. Her nipple would be sweeter than her pussy, and her pussy richer than the small of her back.

“Were you thinking about it?” he asked.

“No.” But she had hesitated. He was close to the truth.

“Were you thinking about me?” he demanded, taking a stab in the dark.

“I ... um...”

“You were. I see. What were you thinking about?” he asked. His voice was gruff. He could hear the dominant tone himself. She would answer or she wouldn’t.

“You.” It was said so softly he almost didn’t hear her over his own harsh breathing.

“What about me, Rayka? What were you thinking about me?”

“What it would be like to kiss you,” she admitted. Her voice remained soft, but the breathy, ethereal quality had increased. She was turned on. Deacon didn’t have to see her to know that.

“And what else?” he urged. “I know there’s more, Rayka. Don’t even bother to say there isn’t.”

Dead silence. He could picture her chewing gently on her bottom lip. Little nibbles as she thought. He’d seen her do it in the candy store and had fought the temptation to kiss her and bite that swollen bottom lip. Hard. And then soothe it with the gentlest of licks and kisses.

“What your hands would feel like,” she admitted.

“Where?”

“On me,” she said. She was stalling.

“Where on you, sweetheart?”

“On my thighs.”

“Pushing them apart?”

“Yes.”

Whew. That was good. I hope! And I almost forgot to yay for having another fan-fucking-tastic illustration from Ted Hammond. Woohoo! And rock on for Isabel Kerr being in this issue, too. I can't wait for a smut break so I can go peek at her porn.

XOXO
Sommer

My Dirty Monday

I'm back! Did you miss me? It's been several weeks since I've visited the land of sex toys.

I'm waiting on my actual sex toys, but I do have a lovely review of two superb lubes today. Both are from WET which is not a surprise. When I think lube, I think WET. Below is a quick review of the original formula and the Platinum. Is in only me that hears Paul Simon's Slip Sliding Away?

Wet Original: Really good! A standby. Have usually had some on hand since...well, since I've been having sex. A good sex, sex toy or sex *and* sex toy lube. What kind of sex? What kind are you having? Anal or traditional or some new sex you have invented, this lube will do the job. I like it because it stays slick and doesn't turn to those little balls of stuff just when things are...heating up. It's water based, clear, and unscented. So, I like to think of it as 'slick fuck classic'. Perfect if you barely need any lube or just want a little touch for kicks.

Wet Platinum: Great! A good combo lube also. Works for either sex or the toy fun. Or a lovely combo deal of the two. Super slippery, a nice easy ride. Platinum is Silicon based so it never dries up. I wouldn't overdo it. You can get away with a extra squirt of the original lube. I would start smaller with the Platinum. You don't want to go shooting past each other just when you hit the good part! I think of this one as 'slick fuck 2.0'. Perfect for if you need a bit more. Quickies spring to mind. Heh heh--I said spring. Anyway, if you're moving fast and need to grease the gears, a tiny bit of this stuff will do wonders! (Safe for latex toys).

I'd highly recommend both for safe, non-staining, odor free, super slick sex toy fun. Always read the bottle before you use lube. The do's and don't's will be spelled out for you. Some lubes are not compatible with some toys and you always want to check ingredients to ensure all that have been listed are safe for you!

XOXO
Sommer

"...the scenes are enough to melt my ebook reader. Absolutely scorching!"

That is one of my favorite lines from a brand new four star review for Double Booked! I would like to thank Manic Readers for taking the time to review DB and for making me blush. And grin. And tremble with girlish glee. I had a really hard time picking my usual favorite part. So I picked two! One as the title and then this one:

"Sensual, provocative and downright delicious, Double Booked will knock your socks off! "

Double Booked can be purchased from eXcessica, Amazon, Fictionwise, and many others. If you're unsure, check your favorite site! :)

Thank you Amanda, my Manic Reader. Thank you for being so damn...um...manic!

XOXO
Sommer

Aw, man, you're so high, man...

That was my best Cheech and Chong impression. Yes, yes! I used to adore Cheech and Chong. I still love Cheech to death. Can you say, Nash Bridges? How about From Dusk Til Dawn? Anyway, this blog is not about C&C, however, while I have been doped on painkillers I forgot this...


I forgot that I have a book on Amazon! A paperback book! How did I forget? I have no fucking clue. The good people at Eternal Press smooshed all the Seekers novellas together and made a collection that can be purchased for a measly $8.50. So, that is three books (Into the Light, Intruder and Inhuman) smooshed up into one pretty book. The Seekers Collection, by Sommer Marsden. The Seekers Collection by...*Me!*

I adore these books and am especially partial to the final book "Inhuman". I am so proud of that book I could pop. But I won't pop. I'll just say if you like sex, paranormal, hot men, funny women, ghosts, demons, investigations of the supernatural, hot sex, hot monkey sex, toe curling sex and things that go hump...I mean, bump in the night. You might like this book. BOOK. Made of paper. *Swoon*.

And I forgot to blog it. *shakes head*. I blog brushing my teeth. How did I forget to blog this? Pass me my prescription. Oh wait! That's how I forgot. Durr. ;)~

So dance with me, people (but not too fast because I tend to fall down). Book! Book! Booo-ooook!

XOXO

Sommer

me and 13 geeks...

Okay, so when I say me, I mean I saw this van when we were oot and aboot today. It is gorgeous. 77 degrees, no humidity. I wore a sundress and a jean jacket and had to ditch the jacket! Anyway, I saw the thirteen and I said to the man, "Please, baby, please." Because Lucky 13 comes out in nine days (wee!).

So he took the picture of van number 13. I always get a rush of happniess and a lucky feeling when I see 13. I was so pleased when we pulled up and there it was! And if you cannot read it, it says Geek Squad. Because I love geeks!

So there you go. Me and 13 geeks. Actually, I just titled it that way to see if you were paying attention.

I hope it as beautiful wherever you are as it is here! I always wonder what my fellow smutters are doing with their Saturdays. Care to let me peek and share?

Off we go, walking the fatness. I mean...the dog.

XOXO

Sommer

WAP!

I finished a story last night that has my stomach full of butterflies. I really like it. And I really, really, really hope it gets taken. I'm really nervous! And I don't feel that way much any more. God, I'm a spaz. Don't mind me. Fingers crossed, fingers crossed, fingers crossed. Eep!

XOXO
Sommer
p.s. the picture? the picture fits with the story :) it's for luck.

i would still like my orgasm, please...

There's a ton of shit going on for me right now. I sort of feel like I'm on a roller coaster. A lot of it is good, some is awesome, some sucks. The sucky stuff is (I am fairly certain, thank you Universe who is laughing at me this last week) a chance to learn and get where I want to be. But to get there I cannot take myself too seriously, not buy own hype (as if would ever!) and learn to float. Let it go. Be flexible.

But I have immense waves of stress and fear and anxiety that crash down over me at random intervals. Anyway, this is not a pity me blog or stroke me, this is a release blog. No, not a hand job. But you can pretend if you like. Or visit an alternate blog for that. I mean, a good fucking laugh that made me feel better.

The man came home from work (another total mind fuck) and said, "I have to tell you this." He smiled. Not smiling a lot lately. A smile is golden.

"Yeah?"

"So we're in a meeting and Mr. X says to Mr. J., 'Mr. J. there is no "i" in team'."

I roll my eyes. Jesus who has not heard that corporate double talk? Who does not simply gag when they hear that any more?"Yeah. And?"

"And Mr. J says to Mr. X,'yeah, and there's not 'team' in fuck you'."

And then I fell on the floor and laughed for ten minutes straight and felt much better than I had. There is no "team" in fuck you. So for today, a day where I often wanted to quote my Haven and let out a "Fuck all y'all!" at the top of my lungs, that laugh was damn near as good as an orgasm.

I said near. I would still like my orgasm, please.

XOXO
Sommer

in less than a month...

Coming to Whiskey Creek Press Torrid. I'm so excited, I can't stand it. Stay tuned...

XOXO
Sommer

Hump Day Heresy: dive head first into some ugly...

heresy: (her-i-se) n., pl. -sies: (2) Dissent from accepted or dominant opinion, doctrine or theory...

It's baaaaack! Due to the Blow Hard Tour (2009), we have missed a few HDH's. Who better to start us back up than Alison Tyler. Take my hand and we will re-enter the land of the clever, off-beat, weird, wacky and heretical. Today we journey into her Trollop Closet and dive head first into some ugly. Sounds kind of dirty, doesn't it?

~~~~

Ugly Flower Shirts.

Say it with me. Ugly. Flower. Shirts. Has a nice ring, right? But when I took a picture of my closet, I realized that what I really like are gaudy shirts. The closet looks innocent on the outside. But when you pull out the hangers, you’ll spy my secret fetish: Loud patterns. Tiger striped. Leopard print. Huge, multi-colored flowers.

How do I wear them? Daily.

My standard uniform is a tee-shirt (Snorg or Junk Food), an ugly flower shirt (I just like the way it sounds), and jeans. Some days, I’ll add a velvet blazer on top. Often, I wear kick-ass boots.
Although I tend to slip my heroines a little bit of myself (glossy long hair, big lips, a thing for tequila) apparently, few scour the thrift stores the way I do. I looked—not through hundreds of stories, but through a handful—and here were a few of the sparse shirt descriptions I could unfold from the drawer:

Something Blue
As soon as I return to our apartment from work, I strip down, often leaving a trail of clothing for Ben to follow if he arrives home after I do. A stunning silk blouse here. A sheer stocking there. One patent-leather shoe pointing in the direction of the bedroom. But now, I was standing by the mantle in our living room wearing a scarlet bra and a pair of matching satin boy shorts while I casually went through the mail.

The Very Last Blow Job
He went for a bad girl, one with a reputation, a reputation that turned out to be untrue. She kissed different from his first lover, her open mouth ripe and hungry for him. But when he put his hands up under her petal-pink blouse, she got a look in her eyes.
Yeah, she had a reputation, but she’d never done it. Not before. Not really.

Such a Good Secretary
Tracey was redheaded, taller than I am, but built along similarly slim lines. In the photo, she was wearing a black to-the-knee skirt, a cream-colored blouse, and a black blazer.

What’s up with all the tasteful attire?

Where are the bold prints? The zigzags? The bowling shirts?

Clearly, I need to get back to work. I’ve got some naked characters to dress. And a whole closet filled with ugly shirts to choose from.

XXX,
Alison

Alison Tyler can be found at Trollop With a Laptop. Often drinking shots in the dark. She’s currently working on a novel about ugly shirts. Or wife swapping. She’s not sure which. But she’d better figure out soon. At least, before people start going home with the wrong shirt. Or wife.


If you would like to donate a staggeringly ugly shirt to the Alison Tyler Ugly Shirt Collection, please do hit my email. I'll hook you up. I say we all see just how far we can push the ugly envelope on this one...heh heh.
XOXO
Sommer
*have an HDH piece to send me? Short, non-fic, off beat, interesting, goofy or weird? Email me at hot4sommer at yahoo dot com and we'll chat...

and i'm not even going to give you a picture...

because i'm nervous. because i started as a poet. and it looks like i am a poet once again. i wrote it to see if i could and because i had something in my head. i submitted it so i wouldn't be afraid to put my baby toe back in the water. hell, i never thought they'd take it. but it looks as if i'm a poet again. be nice to me, eh? ;)

xoxo
s

still doing your books?

I know I said it before but here is your friendly reminder. Tomorrow when you pay your due to Uncle Sam go grab yourself a free sample of Stimula for men and women from AccessRx (proud prize sponsors of the Blow Hard Tour 2009--god, that sounded official and stuff, didn't it?). Maybe all the slipping and sliding will make you forget all about the IRS and words like itemize and subsection B1F234g. Bah!

XOXO

Sommer

I met him at the candy store...

Today kicks off my novella Bittersweet at Ruthie's Club. For the next six weeks RC will be running installments of...me! I'm so excited. I love this story. How can you not love candy, sex, candy, hot man, candy, stubble, candy, Dom, candy. And my illustration for the first installment is by Ted Hammond, one of my favorite artists. It's a clever little picture that started my day with a giggle and a blush. The whole thing is...dare I say it? Sweet!

XOXO

Sommer

From Bittersweet

by Sommer Marsden

“How about we give you a taste of espresso bark.”

“Wood?” she asked and then dipped her head.

Only behind my button fly, sweetheart.

“You’ve had peppermint bark,” he said, shaking off his thought. He really did have to get a hold of his rebellious member. The last thing he needed was her spotting an eager erection with a mind of its own. Come on, Deacon, you’re not a fifteen-year-old boy. Baseballs scores, oil in the car, the cat lady who lived behind Aunt Mary. The one who never wore even granny panties when she gardened and flashed the neighborhood her…

“…on espresso?”

“Sorry. Wool gathering. Come again.”

She flushed at the unintended double entendre and he saw a chance. So he took it. He rubbed his finger over her palm as he handed her a small chip of the espresso bark. The espresso was way better than the peppermint bark.

“I said I’m not a big fan. Not much on espresso.” Her whole body seemed to react to his touch. Her nipples peaked beneath the thin black sweater she wore. She twisted her hips in a way that told him she was wet. She was wet. For him. Which made him diamond hard in his jeans. Screw it.

“Just try it.” Again, Deacon dragged out his touch. He wouldn’t even let himself imagine her the way he’d really like to see her. Tied up in pretty ribbons. On her knees for him. He swallowed the low sound that wanted to rise up and out of his throat. He snagged the shred of chocolate and said, “Put your tongue out.”

God help him, she did. She did it without thought or preamble. Her kitten pink tongue slipped out over her plump lower lip and she let him place the sliver of chocolate there. “Now in it goes,” he said, and his voice sounded gravelly and harsh to his own ears.

He watched that tongue snake back in and shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from grabbing her. Right then and there. Just take her. He was almost positive that Gideon had not bought the fancy scrolled chairs so that one day his nephew could tie a beautiful woman to one and make her do things. And was she the type? His cock said yes, his heart said please, but his mind wasn’t convinced. And yet, that tongue had popped out pretty readily. He was hard-headed and dominant, that much Deacon knew. What he wasn’t was a brute or a cretin.

Encore, Encore! (and Winner, Winner!)

Here we are on the final happy ending for the Blow Hard Tour 2009. And I cannot think of a better way to end it than a few words from the fiercely sexy UK redhead Kristina Lloyd. If you click on over and she's not there yet, do not despair! Technically, she's got a while still to get ready for us.

And before I stumble off to my well deserved slumber, let me take a moment to thank all the BHT member for their efforts, humor and participation. Thanks to each of you for your originality and enthusiasm (we all know enthusiasm is a huge part of a successful hummer). Thanks to all the readers who have visited and to those who spread the word to others. Speaking of readers, hmmm, my little random number generator pulled a five. Looks like five is the number I had assigned to cerulean. Gotta say, it pleased me so. She's been a hardcore blow job/BHT groupie from day one. Congrats, cerulean! Now send me your email addy at hot4sommer at yahoo dot com and I can get your fabulous prize package in the mail. And don't forget sextoy.com will be sending a separate mailing.

So, run on over to KL's for her snappy, witty, sexy input and then...well...there you go. We've wrapped it all up in a pretty little bow. The firs ever Blow Hard Tour has (lordy...) come to an end. *grin*

XOXO
Sommer

Fuel injection is nice but I'd rather be blown...

I am hosting today's stop on the BHT. Woo Woo! Read on, dear reader...

Few things excite me like hot men and classic cars. I wanted this after the tour blog to be by someone who had a...you know...cock. Who could appreciate a good blow job. So let's see. Hot man+classic car+cock+love of a good blow job=P.S. Haven! I knew he had to weigh in on this tour. And I don't know about you, but nothing makes me hotter than a fine man waxing poetic about why he likes lips on him. Wet tongue, hot mouth, the rumble of an engine...*fans self*...the smell of man, the sweet urgent sounds that come from a guy when...oh sorry, that last bit was me. Sorry. I lost track. Here. Just read this...

FUEL INJECTION IS NICE…

…but I’d rather be blown. That’s what the t-shirt said. I first saw that shirt as a kid in the Seventies. I had no idea at the time what any of it meant. Didn’t know what fuel injection was. Didn’t know why you’d rather be blown. Didn’t even realize there was a wink and a nudge behind it all. Wouldn’t have cared anyhow.

Blowjobs and fast cars. They go together like, well, girls and cars. A candy apple paintjob and lips to match. Two great tastes that taste great together. Almost every moving part seems to invoke it. Ram Air, cowl induction, crankshaft, pushrod, headers, pistons and pumps, belts and hoses. And of course the very process of a four-stroke engine: suck-squeeze-bang-blow. That’s how those big V8’s work, after all. Suck in air and fuel, compress it, ignite it, and blow it out the pipes. It’s a thing of beauty for us gearheads.

So are blowjobs. In fact, there are an awful lot of parallels between the two. For starters, you spend a lot of time talking to God. It’s like the old saying goes; there are no atheists in foxholes. Well, there are no atheists who drive old cars and certainly no atheist has ever gotten a blowjob. Even the most committed atheist will reach out to a higher power in both cases…

But more than that, blowjobs and fast cars are all about power. Speed and control. About who’s in the driver’s seat. Sometimes it’s an adrenaline-soaked race to the finish line, other times it’s a nice Sunday drive. When you’re behind that wheel, you’re in charge. If things are moving too slow, you just step on the gas. And if you’re enjoying the moment you’re in, well, hell, just tap the brakes. You’ve got the wheel. You can go wherever you want. Same goes for that sweet thang with her head in your lap. The one you’d better be thanking your lucky stars for. Because despite the fact that it’s your car, your foot on the pedal, your sweaty palms on the wheel, make no mistake, Hoss, she’s in the driver’s seat. You know it. And so does she.

The first blowjob I’d ever gotten was when I was driving. My first car was a 1966 Ford Fairlane. Had a 390 with 428 Cobra Jet heads. Fast car. Mean car. That car would not be ignored. It demanded attention. Just like Natalie, my girlfriend at the time. This wasn’t the kind of car you just hopped in a dropped in drive, with your arm slung across the seat back. You had to play an active role. You had to monitor water temp and oil pressure. Listen for that valve rattle that’d been coming and going. You needed both hands to steer (no power steering) and another hand to shift. Like the man said, keep your eyes on the road and your hands upon the wheel. Or something bad would happen. In that way, the Fairlane and Natalie shared a common theme: Take them for granted and they would hurt you.

We had planned a daytrip to the Myrtle Beach, Natalie and I. Hadn’t been dating long. A few weeks, maybe. It was the last Saturday in August, school was starting back for me, and it was going to be about surface-of-the-sun hot on the Carolina asphalt that day. So Natalie had decided we would take her Fiat, since it had AC and the Fairlane did not. (AC saps horsepower…) I had different plans. No way in hell was I driving that heap five hours to the beach and then still have to endure being seen on Ocean Boulevard behind the wheel. This thing had an undersized motor that put out 90 horsepower of pure shame. It leaked oil like a derelict tanker and rattled like a hardware store in an earthquake. This thing couldn’t pull a sick whore off the toilet. The car was slow. I mean, crust-of-the-earth-cooling slow. If we were going to the beach, we were going in the Fairlane. And as the screen door slammed behind Natalie as she dashed back inside to retrieve her forgotten Ray-Bans, a quick disconnect of the coil wire made sure the little Fiat wasn’t going to start that morning. I promised Natalie I’d check it out the next day. She hopped in and with a fresh coat of twang and a full tank of lust, I pointed the Fairlane south and stood on the gas.

The day at the beach was picture-perfect. The Fairlane made the run just fine. We only had to stop twice to let the radiator cool off. Natalie was two years older than me, and in her bikini in the breakers she looked like a boy’s dream of what a grown woman might be. Once the sun had set, we got back on the road, Natalie’s bikini dripping saltwater onto the Fairlane’s vinyl seats. But I didn’t care.

On our way home, just south of the state line, Natalie pulled her legs up underneath her and laid her head on my thigh. And with a succession of swift movements she had opened my shorts and brought forth my unsuspecting cock. She had taken it whole into her mouth, before I could even react. It was still soft, and stayed that way at first, seemingly as caught off-guard by what was happening to it as I was. But once the shock had evaporated, my cock almost instantly swelled, stiffing and lengthening until it stuffed Natalie’s mouth full.

I braced myself against the steering wheel, rising up from the seat, the skin on the backs of my legs peeling off the clingy vinyl. I wanted to throw my head back, close my eyes and just let go. But I remained vigilant, eyes on the road, keeping it between the ditches, stealing glances down at Natalie on the straightaways, her beautiful face illuminated by the green glow of the gauges.

Natalie went faster and so did I, winding out the 390, the speedometer needle arcing past 80, then 90. I was babbling, begging her not to stop, telling her how good it felt, telling God how good it felt.

Even as it was happening, I thought about how that blowjob mirrored that beach run. Fast and desperate. A little bit awkward. A little rushed. But both are perfect in my memories of them. Natalie curled up in the seat, tight bikini bottom gripping her ass, her wide hips, her tanned thighs. The motor thrumming and the gears whining, and those sounds sinking into my skull. Natalie looking up, watching me with pale blue eyes and too much mascara. Her lips, warm and slippery; breath hotter and more humid even than the South Carolina night.

I lasted maybe ninety seconds. The needle had drifted past 100. And all the way home, I couldn’t decide whether to be elated I’d just had my cock sucked or angry I couldn’t make it last any longer. But I couldn’t be mad. Because despite its brevity, it was perfect. Hell, maybe because of its brevity. I wouldn’t have changed a thing.

So yeah, blowjob and fast cars. When done right, there’s nothing polite about either of them. They’re meant to shake things up. Disturb the peace. Cause civil unrest. Make old ladies blush. They should both be loud and unrefined. Be unacceptable in certain circles. Cause you lose to sleep. They should both make you bust your knuckles every now and then. Make you sweat. Make you swear. Be daydream-worthy. Be a little bit scary. Make you hold on for dear life and pray to God you don’t wreck in a ditch.

And be so damn wonderful you can’t believe it.

Yes, we know it's Easter. Comment at your leisure and hopefully Haven can sneak in and see us later. Happy Easter, people! Hope you have something tasty in your basket. Heh heh. I said tasty *and* basket.

XOXO
Sommer
p.s. Come back tomorrow to be routed to your final stop on the BHT and in the evening the winner of our big ass prize package will be announced. woo woo!

baby did a bad bad thing...

Baby did a bad bad thing
You ever love someone so much you thought your little heart was gonna break in two?
I didn't think so.
You ever tried with all your heart and soul to get your lover back to you?
I wanna hope so.
You ever prayed with all your heart and soul just to watch her walk away?
Baby did a bad bad thing, baby did a bad, bad thing.
Baby did a bad bad thing, feel like crying. Feel like crying.

~Chris Isaak

So, I have 'soundtracks'. I will play the same CD over and over and over again if it's in my head for a story or a book. Literally hundreds of times in a row. Right now, my soundtrack is Forever Blue by Chris Isaak. And this song is in the lead as most played. But in my travels last night, drinking the wine and killing the time, I found another lovely snippet by E. B. Addis. And today, for whatever reason, the two things have merged in my mind. Song with snippet. Snippet with song. So, since E.B. has a...ya know, cock...and the BHT is still in progress, I figured I'd post it. Plus, we all know how I feel about spanking. I mean, come on!

Her hips reached for the spanks as they thudded soundly on her swollen pussy. The fire flashed through her crotch, layering sensations, never lessening the arousal one bit. Just as her howls reached a new level the fingers returned to rubbing fast hard circles through her wetness, crushing over her exposed, hard clit. Once again in this investigation of pleasure/pain boundaries her mind and body conspired to transport her. A hand in her hair raised her head and she greedily accepted his thick hardness into her mouth, salty with the slick signs of his own arousal...

Read the rest over at Joy of Control...

XOXO
Sommer

God, you taste like perfection...

Wow. It seems like just yesterday I was putting up a little blog about blow jobs. And then boom! the response was so fast and very exciting. At the twenty-four hour mark, I gathered all the names of my gung-ho commenters and invited them on tour. Spurred by my fabulous friend, it kept snowballing from there. Heh heh, I said "balling". Anyway, today is the last official stop on the Blow Hard Tour. The sweet and dirty Neve Black has the honors.

Soon I will announce a prize package winner and I will have to thank everyone for their hard work, participation, dirty comments and all the fun.

But, just so you do not go through withdrawal, there will be a surprise encore guest on Sunday the 12th (location: my blog) and on Monday the 13th (my lucky number!) we will have our Encore, Encore to wrap up.

So, do please go visit Neve and her fabulous posterior for today's stop (woo woo!) and then come back here tomorrow for a little bonus feature. Prize winner announced Monday evening! Yes, I'm making you wait. I am such a bitch. Heh heh. Yeah, baby, yeah!

XOXO
Sommer

there, that sounded coherent, didn't it. is this thing on???

Stella!

I have to admit the man loves me on pain pills. I don't take pills. So when I do take pills...well...do you remember the Seinfeld episode "The Pen"? Yeah. That's me. Stella! Steeeee-llllaaaaa!

I was in the shower thinking how I wanted to blog. My mind was doing this tide kind of thing. A thought would roll in and then roll out. Dismissed. Hot water helps the shoulder so I just stand there. In all the steam, thinking, I could blog about a sale I got note of today...but there is still time for me to be cut.

I could blog about the fact that I just finished Fight Club and read one of the best lines of any book ever in the history of evers...but I have Chucked everyone to death.

I could blog about the fact that I ran into someone from my past recently and admitted to who I "am" (Sommer) and when I sent the link I could feel this person reading me. Looking at me. I could feel it as surely as if I was being touched and it kind of felt dirty and that was kind of neat...but maybe not everyone would understand that.

I could blog about my recent rash of misreadings. How I read "The Most Indebted Nation" as THE MOST INBRED NATION. Or "Historic Pubs of Ireland" as HAIRY PUBES OF IRELAND. And just yesterday "...Tom Waits and The Flying Scotsman" as TOM WAITS AND THE FLYING SCROTUM...but that makes me look crazy, no?

So, I guess my point is, I have nothing to blog about. So. Yeah. Time to take a pill. Stella!!!

XOXO
Sommer

I imagine his weight on me...

Today's stop on the Blow Hard Tour is at Isabel's place. That sexy doll of a woman--I adore her! I think we took a boat to our destination (how does a boat sound? Moowunh Moooooowunh!). Isabel shares a lovely fantasy with us. My favorite line I chose for the blog title. In case you haven't figured, I pull lines that really resonate with me. Lines I can close my eyes and feel. So, here, come on up. There's plenty of room on the bed...let's see what's um...up at Isabel's.

XOXO

Sommer

i'll smoke your sugar stick, baby...

while wearing this! Is that not the coolest shirt ever? For more euphemism, sexy snippets, and Hello Kitty underthangs, go to KW's place today. Today's stop on the Blow Hard Tour is all about Piping a Doodle, Polishing the Chrome, um...I need to make one up. Licking the Lizard?

Ugg. Am not really awake and drugged. That was probably a terrible euphemism. Go check out Kristina's and you tell me ;) Tomorrow's stop, Isabel! Woo Woo! (damn, that's probably a euphemism!)

XOXO

Sommer

Other Magical Creatures

I'm so excited to be a part of this tri-author anthology. I have never been one third of an anthology before! I'm thrilled to be published with Torquere Press again. Other Magical Creatures contains three novellas about love and lust and magic and yes...sex! It can be ordered in print or as an ebook. I'll put up a snippet soonish!

Yay!
XOXO
Sommer

About Other Magical Creatures
Written by Mychael Black, Dianne Fox and Sommer Marsden
171 pages / 68000 words
ISBN: 978-1-60370-677-3, 1-60370-677-1
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc, paperback

Witches and demons, shifters and ex-gods; Other Magical Creatures has it all.

These stories explore the magical and human, all in hot m/m/f style. Crossroads by Sommer Marsden follows Wesley Moore, who bargains with a demon to find success. The price seems cheap when he's alone and his family has a history of early deaths. What he doesn't count on is falling in love with two different people just before his deal comes due. Can Wesley come away with his life and both the boy and the girl?

In A Family Most Unconventional by Mychael Black, werewolf Ric Deveraux leaves home after a personal tragedy. With his father on his death bed, Ric is returns to his family, where complications like his deceased wife's brother and an unexpected discovery keep him on his toes. Will he be able to forgive himself for his wife's death and focus on the good things in his life?

Finally, in Dianne Fox's God of Wine, succubus Maggie is a bartender for ex-god of wine Dean. He understands her needs, and lets her come and go as she pleases. When ex-boyfriend Tor blows back into town, he and Maggie get back together. Only this time, they've both got their eyes on Dean, too. Can Maggie find happiness with two very different men?

If I have my way, I love to make a mess...

Woo Woo! Day...um...what day is it? Anyway, it is the next day on the Blow Hard Tour and that is all that matters. To your left you will see the lovely Emerald (modeling a fab BHT 2009 pin, send me your addy for yours today!). She has a few things to say about the ever popular 'facial'. So scoot over to her place and find out exactly what good things can erm...come of a blow job. Sexy snippets, movie clips and waxing poetic about messy hummers...does it get any better? Of course not!

Back in a bit. I seem to have broken myself. I'm going to the doc but I'll be thinking dirty thoughts and I'll return shortly to see what everyone had to say. Oh my, might I say, your skin looks terrific...heh heh...

XOXO
Sommer

“When I read that letter. The part about you on his lips. Your cock, yeah?”

It's been such a swirling vortex of Spring Break chaos I forgot to say that my story "Hidey Hole" is featured in Ruthie's Secret Letter issue this week. Yay for secret sexy letters. Here is a sample. Say that super swift six timthes...um...times.

XOXO
Sommer

From Hidey Hole by Sommer Marsden...

So I spilled my guts. I told him everything. Even how very uninterested Simon had been. How I couldn’t stop playing my imaginary man-on-man porn loop in my head. How it had always turned me on, God, he knew that. Men with other men. Especially if one or both weren’t ‘gay’ per se but just doing it for the sex. The friction and the fucking and the contact. Something in me went soft and loose when I said that. My heartbeat pounded in my chest and my ears. And yes, in my cunt. I moved up onto my elbow and stared into his blue-green eyes. “I would die a thousand deaths to see you with another guy.”

There. I had said it.

“Yeah?” Peter pushed his hand, knife-edged like a karate chop, between my legs. He parted my thighs. Touched me, found me wet. “Why is that?”

Even as he spoke he moved forward, leading with his hips. Insinuating himself into the open V of my thighs. His cock, hard and long, rubbed the tender slit of my pussy. I panted, trying to control my breathing and completely failing. “You know I get off on that stuff.”

“I do know you enjoy the gay pron,” he laughed. Peter kissed my neck, bit my collar bone, and my body buzzed like a light bulb about to go out. How it flares white, hot and noisy before going dark with a pop and a flare.

“When I read that letter. The part about you on his lips. Your cock, yeah?” I said, taking said cock in my hand. Rubbing my thumb over the slit at the top. That velvety head that always made me want to rub my fingers atop it over and over again like a lucky coin or a smooth stone. “I just thought I would die,” I whispered. “I couldn’t get it out of my head. The thought of some guy sucking you off. You holding his head the way you hold mine…” I trailed off, my breath evaporating somewhere between my exhaling lungs and my barely moving lips.

Peter half laughed, half moaned. He pressed his cock to my wet pussy, slid into me just enough to stir up every eager nerve ending in my cunt. “You’re making me kind of crazy, Jill,” he said, moving in just a bit more.

consumed by lush harmonies...

Despite having one of the most kick ass avatars I have ever seen (to your right), Marina St. Clare is a doll. She was one of the original commentors on the "No Woman" blog. Today, Marina is the next stop on our Blow Hard Tour (toot toot! there's a horn blowing over there).

So, when you get a chance, please do sashay over to Marina's place. Read her stirring sexy story and give yourself over to the melody. If you listen real close, you'll see, they're playing your song...

XOXO
Sommer

p.s. running like a madwoman for a bit today. will return shortly. who knew 'breaks' were so damn exhausting!

a stimulating offer...

I had the distinct pleasure of giving a packet of Stimula for women a whirl today. That's right. I had fifteen minutes and a mission. So I grabbed the man and a little foil package and locked the door. What I did then, well, I'll keep that to myself.

Stimula does what it promises. Increased sensitivity without any weird or distracting sensations. I expected it to be coolish, but had an almost warming effect. As always, that stuff can vary from user to user, but I found the whole experience rather good slippery fun. I'd put the Sommer sex stamp of approval on this one.

If you are in the mood to sample a little slipperiness yourself, they are giving away free samples of Stimula for men and women here. That is right. Free! That's a hell of stimulus package. And what could perk up tax day? Nothing you say? Oh, I don't know, some sex lube might put a smile on your face, am I right? Of course I am!

The folks at AccessRx have also given us a lovely sleek tin of the men's lube for the Blow Hard Tour prize package. So, what the hell are you standing there for? Visit to see about getting your free sample and comment to maybe win a whole tin of good slippery fun!

XOXO
Sommer

she has really good taste...

Today's stop on the Blow Hard Tour (chugga, chugga, chugga, chugga!) is EllaRegina's place. My guess will be not now as I am posting, but when the sun comes up. But you never know, night owls. Keep your eyes peeled for activity by that arch. Make sure to stop in and see what decadent treat ER has uh...come up with for us. Knowing ER it will be artsy, clever, and will um...stick with you for days! She has really good taste. Heh heh.

I have an event to attend for the better part of the day as it's Spring Break her in Ball-tee-moor, but I'll be slipping (heh heh) in later to see what there is to see and chat and play. Don't forget to comment, people. You could be the recipient of a huge--wait for it--load of prizes!

Have fun, boys and girls, and I'll be anticipating playing dirty catch up when I return home! Don't do anything I wouldn't do which, well-- that pretty much leaves you open for anything.

XOXO
Sommer
p.s. fabulous doktored arch photo courtesy of Herr Doktor Donna George Storey.

what does a man taste like?

This was sent to Jeremy and Jeremy sent it to me. And I was all....whoa! I'm in there! How cool is that? And I don't think this particular honor could have come at a better time! I am in the section marked Self Evident. I have to say, they chose one of my all time favorite stories, too. Sticky Notes appears in Five Minute Fantasies 3. Here's the full blow job scene.

Thank you, J!

XOXO
Sommer

This time he was waiting for me. He grabbed me the moment I shut the door, took my bag and pushed me to my knees. Then, never taking his eyes from mine, he unzipped his khakis, freed his cock and pushed the already engorged head against my lips.

I opened for him compliantly and played my tongue over the weeping slit. Then I fell on him as if I were starved. And I was. The taste of his salty warm skin on my tongue was heaven. The hot hard length of his erection, like suede covered marble. So hard and yet so pliant. He tasted like sex and love and man.

I licked my palm several times, plunged his cock back in my mouth and moved my slick fist in tandem. Steven buried his hands in my hair and rocked against me. Moving back on his heels, head tilted back, eyes closed. All harsh breath and rumbling growls deep in his throat. The urgency in his sounds sent a thrilling shiver down my spine and I sucked harder and deeper than ever before. I couldn’t settle for anything less than making him lose control.

I loosened my throat and burrowed my nose against his pubic bone. Let him slide all the way home in my throat and I palmed his balls and let my middle finger skim his perineum. That did it.

Steven roared, “Loren!” as he came and just the sound of my name tearing out of him like that soaked my panties.

My husband wanted me to thank Sommer...

for starting all this. Haha. I have to say, that is my favorite pull quote in a while. Wondering whose husband and why? Join us on the next stop of the Blow Hard Tour as we crawl over to Heidi Champa's place. We're on our knees today and I have to say...I kind of like the view from down here.

Won't you join us? Don't forget comment, comment, comment and you could have just a huge surge of prizes um...coming...yeah. At you.

XOXO
Sommer