Did You Know?

In Alabama it’s illegal for the driver to be blindfolded while operating a motor vehicle.

In Denver it’s illegal to perform acrobatics that might frighten horses.

In Atlanta it’s illegal to tie giraffe to street lamps.

It is illegal to put pennies in your ear in Hawaii.

In Tamarack, ID it’s illegal to purchase onions after dark without a special permit from the sheriff.

It is illegal to carry ice cream cones in your pocket in Lexington, KY.

In Natoma, KS it’s illegal to practice knife throwing at men in striped suits.

There’s a state law in Louisiana that says it’s legal to grow as tall as you like.

It’s against the law in Rumford, ME to bite your landlord.

A state law in Maryland prohibits lions from attending the theater. Massachusetts has the same law.

In Canton, MS it’s illegal to kill a squirrel in a courtroom with a gun.

In New Jersey, it’s illegal to detain a homing pigeon.

It’s illegal to get fish drunk in Oklahoma.

Yeah, we’ll be doing this again. There are many, many more.

In book stuff I received the first review for Hot Rush. Chris from Night Owl Romance says, “A cute quick read that was funny, hot, and had a splash of danger to make things interesting.” Yep, that sums it up just about perfectly.

Sunday

Saturday Spice - Fall

Warning - Adult Content

The leaves were gorgeous shades of gold and vermillion. With the cold snap a few days earlier many had already fallen, creating fluffy hued mounds in our favorite park that were too tempting to resist. We were walking, kicking the tufts of color, the wind catching those we disturbed, flinging them into swirling spirals playing behind us.

It was mid-morning and the park was surprisingly empty. When we came to a particularly large pile in the bend of a secluded path he looked around to make sure we were unobserved before tossing me into it. I landed, laughing, reaching up to pull him down with me.

We rolled in the soft pile, pushing leaves on top of one another, enjoying ourselves as we had in our memories. And then the laughter stopped. I don’t know which of us reached first but soon we were clenched together, lips joined, hands clutching, arms and legs entangled.

My skirt was already high on my thighs when his hand found bare skin, pushing it up out of the way. His fingers stroked my slit, pressing the silk into my wetness. I was nearly begging by the time he eased the strip of fabric to the side. His digits penetrated over and over as I felt his cock swell against my hip.

He broke the kiss and I saw his expression was dark with desire. His eyes silently asked if we dared doing what we both wanted. I gave a slight nod, barely perceptible but he caught it. He rolled away from me to free his cock. I urged him between my thighs as we went back to kissing to contain our moans. He pumped into me, each stroke sinking us deeper within the pile.

I wanted to wrap my legs around his hips but I knew not to. We were nearly flat as we were and I didn’t want to call attention to us should anyone be walking nearby. Our motions were controlled, keeping us hidden but enough to build our passions. We came together, biting each other’s lips, swallowing our cries, and then, separating, we grinned, giggling once again like children romping in the fallen leaves.

© 2009 Barbara Huffert

Tour de France Update

For those of you who don’t pay attention but surely must know the most famous name in cycling, Lance Armstrong is indeed back this year. Back and ready to take the Tour by storm. After 6 stages, he’s in second place by less than a quarter of a second. Pretty damn good for an old guy, as he calls himself.

If you haven’t been watching you’ve missed some incredible scenery. The first stage took place in the streets of Monaco. Stage two took them from Monaco to Brignoles. Stage three, from Marseille to La Grande-Motte. I particularly enjoyed the scenic shots that day because that’s the region where the Middle Child had her big adventure. So cool to see some of the places she explored.

Stage four was the team time trial and wound around Montpellier. This was the day that closed the 40 second gap between Cancellara, the race leader, the one who is currently wearing the infamous yellow jersey and Armstrong. The strength his team combined is amazing but then it should be. He’s not the only former Tour winner on it, nor the only one with a chance of winning this year. Alberto Contador is also on the same team. He’s in third place at the moment by a whopping 19 seconds. Can you imagine? They’ve already pedaled hundreds of miles and they’re separated by seconds.

Stage five skirted the coast. For some reason seeing the palm trees surprised me. Yes, I do know they’re there. I just don’t associate palms with France. Hot beyond belief and, being so near the shoreline, tremendous crosswinds to contend with.

Stage six saw a day of torrential rains. The wet roads had bikes slipping out from under riders right and left. No one was immune as some of the big names from years past went down along side Tour rookies. This one ended in Barcelona which, upon leaving there, will now send them up into the Pyrenees Mountains.

Ready to watch with me yet? Sigh. One of these years you will be and then you’ll be addicted to. Have a good weekend.

A New Career?

Lately I’ve been feeling a tad restless. Not because I’m dissatisfied with my day job. Overall, I like it just fine. No, it’s Reading itself that is lacking. At the moment I have the overwhelming sensation that if I stay here much longer it will suck the life right out of me.

Okay, so get out, you say. I’d love to. Only there are several problems with that. Other than near the ocean I have no specific destination picked out. I always figured I’d head east until I ran into the Atlantic and then turn left. Yep, I want a cold, rocky shore, not hot with tourists.

The second problem is the same one most everyone has when contemplating major life changes. Money. As in I don’t have any. I’m working on it but damn, is it taking long!

The third is what I’m going to do to survive once I get wherever it is I’m going. I’m not overly concerned with that one. I’m not an idiot. I’m resourceful. I can do anything I set my mind to. No, I’m not being immodest. In this case it’s simple honesty. Sure there are things I’d really rather not attempt but as I see it, just about anything can be turned into an adventure if you have the right attitude and I think, when it comes to this, I do.

So, I was reading a Hobby Farms magazine, don’t ask, and came across this interesting snippet. It seems there is a tremendous demand for sheep shearers. I like sheep. We had one when I was growing up. The only drawback here could be that I am not physically strong enough to wrangle an uncooperative sheep. What’s that? Oh no, not at all worried about the actual shearing process. There are schools for that, yep, already investigated them, seminars, and places you can sign on as a journeyman for a year with a seasoned shearer.

Hmm, what do you think? There are sheep and rocky coasts in New England. Howie’s in fine shape so we could easily make it that far. Anyone up for an adventure? I’ll tell you we’re home when we get there.

Bored?

So yesterday I was chatting with a friend and I made a comment about mesmerizing a chicken. Poor guy had no idea what I was talking about so I had to explain.

Here’s what you do. First, catch a chicken. Nope, that was never my part. I don’t get any closer to live chickens than absolutely necessary. Hold the chicken with its beak on the ground until it settles down. Calm down. We never hurt any chickens. Hold them gently and they will relax.

Second, you need something to draw with. Yep, drawing the line was what I did. Plain white chalk works best because it’s easiest for the chicken to see although a stick in dry dirt will sometimes work too.

Once the chicken is settled, draw a straight line extending away from its beak. About three feet or so. Let go and the chicken will stay put indefinitely until something disturbs it, usually us because you can only watch a chicken lie there for so long before getting bored.

What can I say? I grew up in the middle of nowhere and some days it was hard to find ways to entertain ourselves. Oh wait. Maybe the chicken was just as bored and we were providing entertainment for it.

Sad

Someone I work with had a horrific motorcycle accident over the weekend. He was declared brain dead.

A week ago we were joking around about the questions my writing raised to him. A week ago he was so cute, proudly showing us all his brand new diploma. He’d just put in a tremendous amount of work and earned his masters. A week ago he was full of enthusiasm for the new stage he’d started.

Besides working where I do, he had a full life. A family. A new home. A business that tapped into his artistic creativity. You know what I mean. A LIFE and everything that goes with it.

Something like this makes you realize how unexpected life can be sometimes. It’s precious. Please. Be sure that those who are important to you know it. Live every day to its fullest. No regrets.

Yes, this has shown me its past time to do some serious thinking and make the hard decisions I’ve been putting off.

Need A Loan?

Go to Latvia. You can get one there. Instantaneously. Without any credit checks. They promise right on the application not to send creditors to harass you, should you default. They don’t even require your last name.

It’s simple. You can get up to $500, no questions asked for up to 90 days. Yes, the interest rate is high. But so what? Sometimes, that could mean the difference between surviving and not.

Oh, almost forgot. There is a certain collateral they demand. No, not your house or your car or anything else traditional. This particular organization asks you sign a promissory note for only one thing and they guarantee they’ll extract it painlessly, should it come to that.

What is it already, you ask? Your immortal soul.

In other news there is a man in India who killed himself while fishing with dynamite. He blew off his right hand and his head. His body was found later. Um, so his head was found first? And how exactly do you manage to blow your head off, literally? Your hand, yes but your head? Unless he was holding the dynamite in his mouth while needing both hands to light it, that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.

And last, those of you in Colorado can rest easy now. The state government repealed a very serious law last week. It is no longer illegal to collect rainwater for use on your own property. I wonder how many rain barrel inspectors this move put out of work.

Saturday Spice - Smmer

Warning - Adult Content

It was a clear summer night. Crickets chirping, lightning bugs flashing. There was mist rising from the glass-like surface of the lake. The full moon gave it an eerie cast. There was magic in the air so powerful even the teenagers having a bonfire were subdued. Perhaps we should have waited until later, after they’d gone. But we didn’t. W couldn’t. The moment felt too right to ignore. We stripped, leaving our clothes behind the boulders.

We were nearly to the shore before they noticed us. We slipped into the water silently, leaving ripples in our wake. He moved in front of me just as his stiffened cock dipped below the surface, leading me into deeper water.

In another few steps we were in over our heads. We clung together, treading water as one. Arms and legs entwined, kissing hungrily yet in no hurry. We were water nymphs, sharing a dance as old as time.

Soon we were so involved we slipped below the surface. We came up, grinning, shaking the water from our faces. He lifted me so my breasts were exposed. His mouth latched onto a nipple, sending shivers throughout my body. In reaction, I felt his fully engorged cock twitch.

Holding my gaze in the moonlight, he lowered me, slipping me onto his shaft. I locked my legs behind his back. The motion of staying afloat rocked our bodies, creating a wondrous friction. We watched each other, watched our expressions as our passions built and then crested with the most exquisite pleasure.

Still impaled, he kissed me as he guided us back to land. He carried me from the water, me wrapped around his powerful body. He took me to the boulders, not letting himself slip free until he was ready to place me on the edge of one of the rocks.

He dropped to his knees between my thighs and lovingly lapped his essence from me, then moving for me to do the same. He took my hand, pulling me to my feet and, with a smile, we left the magic behind and disappeared into the night.

© 2009 Barbara Huffert

Guess What!

It’s that time again. What time? Tour de France time! Oh stop. It’s one of the few things I truly enjoy so let me alone. Yes, I know it’s been fraught with problems the last few years. Yes, I know there’s all sorts of shady politics involved. Yes, I know you think it’s a lame thing for me to be addicted to watching. But you know what? I don’t care. As I said, this is something I still have fun with and it’s harmless so hush.

Some information:

This year’s Tour begins in Monaco on the fourth.

There are 21 stages which have the following profiles:

10 flat stages,
7 mountain stages,
1 medium mountain stage,
2 individual time-trial stages,
1 team time-trial stage.

The Tour ends on July 26th in Paris, as always.

The route covers 3500 km, 2175 miles. On bicycles. Doesn’t that blow your mind?
I’ll be here in the morning, wearing my bright yellow Tour T-shirt that my wonderful friend, Riley, brought home from France, just for me. Feel free to join me