Summer Sun????

This is the first of the pictures to be taken on the trek to Myrtle Beach--sunrise in the Smoky Mountains, and then the cloudy view from the 18th floor of this hotel. Sam is upset about the weather, but I'm sure we'll have a little sunshine at some point.





















Since it's almost summer, and we all love a good romance anytime, for a little light reading enjoyment, here's an excerpt from a book I wrote for a friend of mine who loves cowboys. I gave her several of them. . .

To set up this scene, Angie has picked up a cowboy hitchhiker whose girlfriend decided she wanted to move on to someone new and dumped him out on the side of the road. He's just trying to get to the rodeo in Jackson Hole, and he's not above doing a little wheeling and dealing.

Enjoy this excerpt from Boots, and Spurs, and Cowboys, Oh, My!


“What would it take to get you to drive me all the way to Jackson Hole?” he asked, the hint of suggestion in his voice startling me as much as the abruptness of his query.

I reached for my bottle of water, taking a sip to moisten a mouth suddenly gone as dry as a gulch in August. I stole another peek at him and saw that those luminous eyes were peering at me from beneath lids that were suddenly heavy with sensuous intent and as I watched, his lips curled into a provocative smile. “I'd be willing to bet there's something I could do for you that would pay you back—or at least make it worth your while.”

I'll just bet you could, I thought to myself. Something quite remarkably wonderful. . . . Aloud, I said, “Like what?” hoping that I sounded much more innocent than my thoughts.

He shifted his butt on the seat of the truck in a slow pelvic thrust. “Pull over and I'll show you.” He glanced over his shoulder at the road ahead. “There,” he said, nodding toward the big cottonwood that was as much the landmark for the turn-off to the ranch as the road sign was, “. . . under that tree.”

My brain told me to keep driving, but my hands and feet seemed to have discovered that they had a will all their own. I think some of my other, more primal, body parts were doing the dictating to them, for I parked under the tree and turned to face him, clearing my throat before saying hoarsely, “This is where I let you out.”

“You're not dumping me, are you?” He was teasing me, but at the same time he managed to sound rather hurt that I would ever do such an awful thing to him. “I couldn't get dumped again! Not twice in one day!”

“No, this is where I make the turn toward home,” I replied truthfully, but with a trace of regret. “This is where I said I'd let you off.”

He nodded slowly, tipping his hat further back on his head with an index finger to the brim. “Mind if we sit here and talk for a minute?”

“I suppose not,” I said with a shrug. “I'm not in any big rush to get home.” Actually, I think I could have sat there for at least another hour or two, just looking at him. He was candy for the eyes, and I was starving to death. . . .

He nodded again, reaching for that huge, shining belt buckle. “Let me show you something,” he said. “I've got nothing to lose, after all, since you plan to leave me here anyway.”

I gasped in surprise. “You're not planning to trade your belt buckle for a ride to Jackson Hole, are you? I wouldn't have thought you'd want to part with something like that!” It was a trophy buckle—the kind you can't buy, but have to win at the rodeo.

“I don't plan to,” he said simply, releasing the buckle and flipping open the button on his jeans. “What I intend to give you I can easily afford to lose.” He unzipped his fly and pushed the fabric back away from his briefs. I could see the reason for the bulge now, for his dick was rock hard and oozing a clear, viscous fluid all over his underwear. “You've been staring at this for miles, now. I thought you might like a better look.” With that, he pushed off his jeans and briefs in one long, slow sensuous thrust. His stiff rod escaped its confinement and stood erect, taunting me—daring me not to look, not to touch. . . .

I believe I gasped, and I know my jaw dropped in amazement. He had a really nice looking dick, and coupled together with those eyes of his, it was a pretty lethal combination. I just stared at him, breathlessly silent, waiting for what he would do next.

“Want a ride?” he asked, sliding his fingertips up and down the shaft. He stopped for a moment, pulsing his cock, pumping out rivers of pre-cum that poured out over the head and down the shaft like hot fudge over vanilla ice cream.

I let out a pent-up breath as my tongue slid involuntarily across my lips. I'd never dreamed anything like this would happen when I picked him up! I'd have bet money that he'd have been way too tired for any funny business, but I guess that just goes to show you how much a sandwich, a bottle of water and a little air-conditioning will do for a guy—not to mention a place to sit down for a while—or some strong incentive. He obviously wanted a ride to the rodeo badly enough to sell himself for it—and to me, of all people! I had to be ten years older than he was and I possibly outweighed him, too—although he might actually be heavier than he looked since he was a good bit taller than me, after all. I swallowed hard, which was difficult since there wasn't enough saliva in my mouth to lick a stamp.

“Maybe you'd rather have a drink,” he said, pumping out more fluid. “You look a little on the dry side.”

My hand flew up to my mouth and I tried to swallow again, but found that I couldn't, for every ounce of excess fluid in my body had gone south, along with my reason. I couldn't help it: powerless to resist and ignoring the protests of my normally quite reasonable brain, I leaned forward and kissed his cockhead, sliding my tongue over the slick surface and inhaling the heady, intoxicating scent of him. He was salty to the taste and smooth as silk to the touch and I lost whatever inhibition I had, going down on his cock until it was nearly all inside my hungry mouth.

He laughed softly, reaching out his right foot to catch the heel of his boot on the stick for the four-wheel drive. Jacking it off, he slid his leg out of his jeans. “Maybe you'd like a little ass, too,” he murmured as he raised his leg, pushing me away with a foot on my shoulder before bracing it against the seat to flip himself over onto his knees.

Damn! I thought wildly. He knows my every weakness! His tight cheeks waved back and forth in front of my face and an orgasm hit me in the stomach, doubling me over so that I fell forward, kissing his sweet buns, before recovering enough to move lower to lick his succulent balls. For a little more of this, I decided, I'd have driven him all the way to California, given him my truck, hitch-hiked my way back home and considered myself to be the lucky one. I devoured him, licking my way underneath him before turning onto my back with that tasty cock dangling just above my waiting lips. “Fuck me in the mouth,” I whispered, “I want you to come in my mouth.”

“How far is it to Jackson Hole from here?” he asked as he groaned and slid his thick head past my parted lips. How in the world he thought I was supposed to answer him, I have no idea. I mean, it should have been perfectly obvious to him that I couldn't possibly be expected to carry on a conversation with a cock that size in my mouth. Apparently he didn't expect an answer, though, for he went on, saying, “I'll fuck you every twenty miles and twice when we get there. You can have it any way you want.”

I giggled around his penis, pushing it aside on the upstroke to say, “You are such a slut!”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Don't you just love a slutty cowboy?” He came down on me again, sliding his wet cock across my cheek. “And you are just the kind of sweet little woman that brings out the whore in me. As cute and round as a robin, with big, brown eyes and long, dark braids like an Indian princess.” He groaned again and put his cock to my lips. “Suck me, Angie,” he growled. “I'm ready to fill you up with my cum.” He punctuated his words with a push inside my waiting mouth and pumped his cock in and out as I slid my slick tongue eagerly on the underside of his shaft. I reached up to cup his swinging balls and fondled them gently, massaging them and pulling on the long, curly hair which covered them. “You like my nuts, Angie?” he asked breathlessly. “I like what you're doing to them. It makes me feel like I'm gonna explode all over you.”

The prospect of just such a thing happening was too much for me, and I moaned as I came again, reaching up desperately to grab his ass and pull his dick farther into my mouth. My fingers crept to the cleft in his butt, seeking his soft, velvety hole. He put a hand to his mouth, spitting on his fingers before reaching back to lubricate himself for me and I slid my fingers across it, massaging his slick, tight hole. He exhaled sharply and kept fucking my mouth until I felt him tense up suddenly. I heard his breath hiss back in through his teeth as his semen shot straight down my throat, filling my mouth with spurt after spurt of his warm cream. I sucked the cum off of his cock as he slowly withdrew it, savoring its tangy sweetness before I swallowed.

“That was payment for the ride so far,” he said, twisting his body around to land heavily in the passenger seat. “To get more, you have to keep driving. I'll be hard again in another twenty miles. . . .”

I've got an interview posted today on A Blog of Books! Yay, Outcast!