Dear Mr. X,

Apologies for taking so long to fulfill your dare. It’s been really exciting. I didn’t leave an erotic trail all in one day as you commanded, but whenever I’m horny or make eye contact with a sexy man, I’ve been writing something down in the little Moleskin I always carry around, ripping out a page, and leaving it behind. I guess I’ve got a pretty dirty mind, or probably dirtier than average, so the writing the words don’t really make me nervous unless I’m in a super crowded place. Leaving the note behind is what’s totally nerve-racking. The moment it leaves my hand. I’m always afraid that somebody’s going to pick it right up, but once I’m clear from any immediate danger, my whole body melts, and I’m hornier than you can believe. I love it. It keeps me in the moment and feeling really sexy. I’ve had more encounters since I started doing this – not from men who found my notes, but just in general. I think it just comes across to people that I’ve got sex on the mind. It’s given me a lot of confidence, and I’ve started dressing sexier, and I get a lot of pleasure from that. Just being aware of my body in slinkier dresses that hopefully make you look twice and think, Hmm. Maybe one of these days I’ll send you a picture of me being slinky.

As instructed, here are a few situations I’ve gotten into, what I wrote and how it made me feel.

On a business trip to the Midwest, I stayed in a typical business hotel. Normally I just have a couple of drinks from the minibar, watch a television show on my computer, and go to sleep, but I’ve been trying to put myself out there a bit more and force myself to be open to situations, so I decided to have a drink down in the bar. These places are totally depressing, and the bar was almost empty that night. I immediately regretted coming down, but the bartender was friendly enough, and we chatted a bit as I sat there at the bar with my vodka tonic. He was too clean cut for my taste, but he had a sense of humor and told me he was studying marketing at the local university, which I also studied, so we talked about that. I’m more on the design side, so I sketched out a few things in my notepad, which was a bit of a thrill, knowing where that notepad had been (I’d already left a couple of sexy messages in places). This time I was too nervous to leave something for him right there on the bar. The chances of him finding it were just too high. But when he went down to serve another customer, I quickly wrote: “Another vodka tonic. I’ll wait in my room without clothes on.” Then when he came back to talk some more, I kept the notepad open with my hand sort of covering it. I was so nervous, but a good nervous. Our conversation could have required me to make another little sketch at any second. Once I finished the drink, I left him a nice tip. Walking away I was ashamed for not having been a little riskier, so in the elevator I ripped out the message and tossed it to the floor without crumpling it or anything. I figured nobody else would get on going up, but when the doors opened on my floor, my heart was pounding, but there was nobody on the corridor. Back in the room I actually had another vodka to calm my nerves, and I took off all my clothes and lay down on the bed. I ran my hands all over myself, imagining some stranger finding my note. I got so horny that I wished I’d put my room number on the note. I came three times thinking about that. When I get horny, I’m capable of anything. I totally lose my head.

On a coffee break in the café below work. I was wearing a tight dress that day and had had a great workout that morning. I felt desirable. Two young guys at the next table kept glancing over at me, and I could tell they were saying something about me under their breaths. I realized that often I expect people are saying bad things about me, or making fun of me, but that day I really knew they were admiring.  One was black, one was white, and they were in jeans and t-shirts, but they were well-built and clean looking, with nice smiles. Once or twice I forced myself to smile back, just subtly, I was nervous. I wanted to be brave. It seemed really important not to be afraid or assume the worst. I wrote in my notepad: “I’m leaving. I’m wet. Follow me till I find a quiet doorway and put your hands between my legs. Both kiss my neck and I’ll push you down.” I crumpled up the paper and put it next to my crumpled napkin and empty cup. I’m always really fastidious about cleaning up after myself, and take anything to the trash bins, but that day I didn’t, which was also a guilty kick. I waited to put on my coat till I got to the door, because I wanted them to look at my ass. My heart was pounding, and I was partially embarrassed but also incredibly excited. Back at the office I had to get right into work and didn’t have any time for fun, but that night I saw a platonic male friend for a drink. We’ve always had a flirtatious relationship, but nothing has ever happened. I asked him if he’d ever had a threesome. He was embarrassed. For once I felt like the powerful one, and I liked that. Eventually he asked if I meant with two women or another man. Either, I said with a totally straight face. He couldn’t answer (he’s clearly never had a threesome). So he asked about me. I told him I’ve never had two men, but that it would be a total turn-on. Now I keep thinking about him and another friend seducing me one night. I know I could handle them both in the right way, and my pussy gets wet just writing this.

Walking down the sidewalk in the rain. This one took me by surprise. People with their umbrellas up squeezing left and right, I found myself pushed up against a buff businessman in a sharp suit. We were both forced to angle our umbrellas out to the side, so there was this strange brief moment where we were in this sort of cave together as we maneuvered around each other. Our hips brushed. It was unexpected. I’d been annoyed by the rain, but suddenly I was turned on. I walked about half a block. It was one of these weird warmish days we’ve randomly had, and I’d worn this totally impractical short skirt without tights. I could feel a few drops of water running down my thighs. Even in miserable rush hour the sensation was weirdly sexual, like I was so horny my pussy was dripping down to my thighs. It was too damp out to really write anything, but waiting for a stoplight I had this urge to mark the moment somehow – it’s like an urge to pinch yourself to wake up from a dream or to try to remember something important – and I pulled out the Moleskin and just had time to jot: “3 fingers in me, sir.” I felt like I was just dripping, like my pussy was huge. I dropped the scrap of paper as I crossed the street, and I’m sure it immediately dissolved in the rain. I was on my way to lunch with a friend and arrived a bit early. I went straight to the bathroom and shut myself up in a stall. I hitched up my skirt, put down the toilet seat, and sat. I moved my underwear aside and put a finger in. I was still dripping, like I’d been flooded by the rain. I hooked two fingers inside me and started fucking myself. It felt so good! I was just crazy horny and didn’t care about anything else. I wanted three fingers in me like I’d written to the man (I always think of myself as writing to them). I shifted my pelvis forward on the seat and made a triangle of three fingers and kept them stiff, pretending they were a cock, and I fucked myself with them. I could have taken four. I kept fucking myself and came fast, and then I licked myself from my fingers, imagining it was his cock. I can’t remember any conversation I had during that lunch.

Thanks for all the sexiness, Mr. X. I’m loving it and will write back with more when I can.

Love,

A

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