Welcome my lovelies.
I’ve had some colorful tales come through Sealed with a Kiss before, but today’s guest, Sable Hunter, has one for the record books.
I won’t give anything away, but let me just say that this author has sure had some interesting adventures. Plus you're gonna get a peek at a super hot excerpt from her latest novel, "I'll See You in My Dreams".
And ONE lucky reader who leaves a
comment, will win a FREE copy!!!
I’ll turn the show over to Sable and let her spin you her wicked tale…
SABLE AND THE COCK
Yea, I got your attention, didn’t I? Good. Things happen to me. I’m an accident waiting to happen. There are days when I dread going out of the house ‘cause I know life is just waiting to pounce on me when I’m not looking. I have goat problems. I don’t know where they come from, but sometimes I go outside and they are standing on my picnic table. I shoo them off and they go about their business, but in a day or two they’re back. I have raccoons that I’ve fed, and now they won’t leave. They stand on my porch, and I swear to God, they knock on the door to get my attention. I fed one raccoon some grapes and now I have an army of the little suckers, all wanting a handout. I need a vineyard!
And the skunks! I have cats, so I keep cat food outside, and sometimes I go out at night and I’m surprised by all of these cats with white stripes down their back and fluffy tails!!! Polecats! But they have never sprayed me – yet. Once, I went out and there was little powder puff baby skunks and I melted. I knelt down about two foot away from them and I watched them eat and I longed to pick them up and kiss them – but I knew better. The mom never offered to hurt me, but I was lucky.
A lot of wild things have happened to me. I have swallowed a bug while trying to sing. I have got a microphone hung in my mouth on a stupid dare (story detailed in BADASS). I have went into the boys bathroom by mistake twice (well once was on purpose). I have tried to drive a stick shift car and only been able to turn right, so I drove 15 miles out of the way so I could get home with all right turns. Things just happen to me. I have to go to the bathroom at the most inopportune moments, I have worn my dress wrong side out and two different shoes. But once, my ill luck turned out for the best. Allow me to tell you about the day I met John Stamos and the cock.
When I worked as an accountant in Beaumont, my office was in one of the older bank buildings. It was near the port, so sometimes at lunch, I would drive down there with my sandwich and watch the ships come in to be unloaded. Water has always fascinated me. Yes, I wasn’t in the best part of town. And yes, I was alone – but I have always been fearless! I drove a silver Camaro Z28 back in those days. It was low-slung, fast and I looked good driving it! Ha! – well, maybe. I love cars. I’ve had a Camaro, a Jag and a Lexus and I’m thinking about buying a 2014 Corvette Stingray – seriously. Well, anyway- back to my story. I would drive my Camaro down by the docks, eat my sandwich and watch the boats. One day, when I was leaving, I noticed some cars outside this disreputable looking house and there appeared to be a scuffle on the porch, so I slowed down to watch and it appeared to me that there was a drug-deal gone bad going down. These guys were roughing up these other guys and I sorta enjoyed the show. One of them noticed me, so I eased on off.
I hadn’t gotten far till this low-slung foreign car pulled right in behind me. I looked in the mirror and it was one of those guys from the porch. He motioned me to pull over. I didn’t. He crowded me. I sped up. He pulled along beside me – he was cute – I smiled, but kept going. If this was a drug dealer, he was an attractive drug dealer. He looked like a young John Stamos, it was hard to be afraid of John Stamos. But I didn’t stop. Finally he whipped around in front of me and cut me off and I had to stop or hit his car. He sauntered over to me and asked to see my license. I told him that he didn’t look like any cop I had ever seen. He smiled and told me he was under cover, and I had to bite my tongue to ask if he wanted to be under my covers. He asked me what I was doing in the area and I told him that I was eating my lunch and watching the boats. He laughed. John Stamos told me that there was a report of a car like mine involved in a drug chase. I looked down at myself – all 5 foot 3, 100 pounds of girly-girly with waist length dark hair, big blue eyes wearing a white eyelet sundress and ballet slippers. “I didn’t do it, Officer,” I blinked at him.
“Okay, you get on out of here and go back to the right end of town.” He motioned me on my way. I left – reluctantly, but was happy to see that he followed me. I returned to my office parking lot which was a few blocks from the building. When I got out of the car, I looked around, but didn’t see my sexy cop. WHOOSH! All of a sudden, I was attacked! I thought I was being mugged or pillaged! I fought off my attacker – I squealed – I bounced – I yelled. Amidst all of the chaos, I tried to figure what had a hold of me! Finally, I realized it was a rooster! A big cock! How I had attracted this feathered fiend I had no idea. He flapped his wings and fluttered around my head and kicked at me and I thought I was gonna die! I danced and bounced and carried on until I felt the beast being removed from my shoulders. “How in the world did you find a cock in the middle of downtown, Little Girl?”
I looked up and my John Stamos was standing there holding the rooster by his feet – his wings still flapping – just a grinning at me. “I don’t know, just lucky I guess.” I answered. He tossed the bird off in the bushes and escorted me to my office building. I was late. Later, I had to try and explain to my boss why I was late. The boats, the drug deal, the undercover cop, the cock in the parking lot. He didn’t believe me. But it was worth it - - I had a helluva date the next Saturday night.
Sable and the Cop/Cock. . . . . and the story continues. . . ha!
Here’s another animal story. . . and a sexy man - - from “I’ll See You In My Dreams.”
Now, meet Zane.
Thank God! The vet was almost sure the culprit was contaminated feed instead of brucellosis. A shipment of bad range cubes was most likely to blame, and only the Holsteins had eaten any. Losing a few calves was bad enough, but at least he wouldn’t lose his whole operation or pass on the unfortunate circumstances to anybody else’s cattle. Casey was still waiting on the test results, but there had been other reports of the same symptoms from other ranchers who had purchased the same defective product.
Zane could breathe easier now. But still – he hated the helpless feeling of trying to analyze the situation based on someone else’s description. Kneeling down he unfastened Rex’s halter. “Let’s go to the kitchen and I’ll get you a snack. This has been a rough day.” Carefully, he felt on the coffee table for the tray. He liked to leave the house fairly straight for Rachel. Picking it up, he moved through his familiar home with slow, even steps. He could hear Rex’s toenails clicking on the tile floor behind him.
With practiced moves, he counted the steps into his kitchen. Funny – he couldn’t be sure of what it really looked like. He had it redecorated along with everything else when Margaret had walked out of his life. Oh, he knew there was Mexican tile on the floor and the cabinets were made of oak – but the vision of the room he had in his mind might not be close to the reality. What difference did it make?
Lowering the tray to the counter, he felt around and cleared an area for it, scooting over what felt like a loaf of bread and a roll of paper towels. Next, he opened a drawer and located the can opener and moved over to the pantry and found what he hoped was a can of dog food. As long as Rachel put the items in their designated places, he was okay. “I hope this is your food and not a can of baked beans,” he teased the hungry animal. Finding Rex’s bowl with his foot, he picked it up and dumped the contents of the can in it. “Stinks about right.” Setting it down, he patted the big Lab. “You eat; I’m going to take a shower. You can join me in the bedroom when you’re through.”
Living in a world of perpetual night, he constantly relied on his other senses to make up the difference. Right now, he could feel the downward draft of the air-conditioner; he could smell fresh grapefruit on the counter. Their odor vied with the aroma of Rex’s pungent meal. Standing still, he listened for sounds beyond the kitchen. A faint low of a cow and a bark of a coyote was all he could discern. Zane knew he was fortunate in many things, but sometimes he was so lonely, it was almost unbearable. What he wouldn’t give for someone to just be with him – to share, to back him up. Fuck! He needed someone to hold tight.
With sure movements, he left the kitchen and let his hand slide down the hall wall. How much different it would be if a woman waited for him in his bed. He could imagine her lying there, anxious. “I’m coming, honey. Warm up my side of the bed and I’ll warm you up as soon as I get there,” he spoke to no one. What he wanted and what he felt he should have were two different things. The truth was he was hesitant to ask a woman to share his life. But the image of Miss Presley was haunting his thoughts. Chuckling, he remembered she has said her hair was the color of dirt. Now what other woman would give an answer like that? She was sweet and unassuming and he bet she was as pretty as a picture.
Long silky hair, green eyes – his mind couldn’t help but strive for an image to go with that husky little voice with the tiny hint of a lisp. Most seeing people didn’t realize that blind people who had their sight at one time can still see – in a way. They hear a sound first, like the rush of the water as he turned on the shower faucet. The haunting vision will come from the side and then quickly rush into the mind’s eye. Scientific studies have suggested that the brain rewires itself to create visions from sound rather than sight. So, he couldn’t help but begin imagining how Presley Love looked. As he featured a curvy body, long legs, a face looking up at him with lust glazed eyes, Zane got hard.
Stripping off his clothes, he ran a hand down his abdomen and over his cock to cup his balls. “Miss Presley, I bet you’re fine.” Just the thought of tangling his hand in those long strands of hair, wrapping it around his fist and anchoring her still for a kiss had his flaccid cock stiffening with lust. How long had it been? Too long.
With practiced strokes he massaged his cock, using a little soap as a lubricant, he worked it till it was hard and throbbing. “God, I’m so fuckin’ hard,” he moaned as he rubbed the tender skin up and over the head of his prick in a smooth circular motion. His cock knew what was coming – it was heat, erotic expectation at its best. Zane enjoyed his body, and he had no qualms about giving himself pleasure.
Wrapping his hand around his cock, he slowly jerked it – long smooth strokes, sometimes over the head and sometimes stopping at the base. What would Presley’s breasts look like? He had no way of knowing, unless he asked. She could be flat-chested for all he knew – but probably not. With a sexy name like Presley coupled with a bedroom voice like she had, Zane suspected she had a rack to match. As he conjured up images of round, firm, soft tits he felt the pleasure begin rising from the base of his dick. God, how he’d like to suck on her tits, there was nothing like taking a woman’s nipple in his mouth and nursing. As he fantasized, he could feel his shaft thicken and the head swell. Damn, it felt good. He could have cum right then – but he wanted the feeling to last – so he backed off, tracing the veins and wondering what color Presley’s nipples were. How would they be shaped?
Women’s breasts fascinated him. Now that he couldn’t see – touch would be paramount. What he would like to do was pull the woman back against him and run his hands up from her waist to cup her tits. He would weigh them in his palms – run his hands over and around them – lifting them, cupping them, learning their shape. Just the thought of fondling Presley’s tits, taking her nipples in his fingers and pulling them, tweaking them – milking them – “GOD!” had him back to full strokes. With his other hand he rubbed on his balls, letting his hips pump, feeling his ass tighten. Lord, he needed a woman. He loved to sink his cock into warm, wet pussy – feeling her tight little sheathe stretch to accommodate him.
Zane needed that sensation – that gliding of his glans into a hot, grasping haven. Making a small ring with his thumb and forefinger, he pushed it over the head of his cock, massaging the tip end. “Hmmmm,” he gasped, that felt good. He wondered if she liked sex, some women didn’t. But when a man found a woman that loved to be loved – God, he had found a treasure.
Presley would lay down for him – offer herself – open her legs and let him see the place that would take him to paradise. His daydream made him smile – yeah, he still thought of himself as ‘seeing’. He’d rub the head of his cock up and down her slit, make her moan and beg to be taken. Using both hands, he doubled his pleasure, let the water sluice over his back and shoulders. Still, he toyed with the head, giving himself the illusion of fucking in and out of a snug little pussy and upped the ante by pumping himself, furiously, letting his hips roll with the rhythm. His climax hit him hard – the pleasure and the cum jetting out in long, creamy sprays. Zane groaned, still fisting his cock as it pumped endlessly.
“Presley,” he whispered.
Nights spent in total blackness were endless. Even though he kept his curtains open, he never saw a shaft of light. If he slept in, he would feel the change in the temperature as the sun rose, but most of the time he had to rely on an alarm clock. This morning, however, he just couldn’t stay in the bed. He had a clock that announced the time at the touch of a button – “five-twelve a.m.” Ignoring his morning wood, he promised his Johnson a repeat of last night’s performance later, jerked on a pair of jeans and a shirt and went out to greet the day.
Rex didn’t need any encouragement, he loved these pre-dawn jaunts. Cheyenne knew what was up too, as Zane entered the barn, he was met with several greetings, but his appaloosa had a distinctive, rumbly neigh. It was a welcoming sound. “You ready to go?” With practiced moves, he put on a saddle and bridle, grabbed his whip and led the animal out into the misty morning.
Not many blind men rode horses by themselves, but not many blind men had a horse like Cheyenne. Cheyenne was a seeing-eye horse. Oh, Zane had bought him and rode him before the accident. And he had given a lot of things up, but not his horse. Kane had found a place in South Carolina that trained horses for the blind. True enough, they usually worked with miniature horses or shetlands, but Kane and Zane had met with them and shown them how special Cheyenne was and just like they had anticipated, the appaloosa had taken to the life-style like a duck to water.
Horses can see phenomenally well in almost total darkness and Cheyenne’s memory was incredible. He already loved Zane and being trained to be on the look-out for danger and avoid obstacles was not a giant leap. At the ranch, Zane had no qualms about taking off with Cheyenne and Rex – he knew he was safe in their hands. Four eyes out of six weren’t bad odds. “Let’s head down toward the creek,” Zane led Cheyenne past the gates, shut them behind him and climbed on. With a gentle pull to the reins they were off. He tipped his hat back, and took a deep breath, enjoying being in the saddle again.
“Woof!” Rex raced ahead, knowing that he was free to be adventurous while the service horse was on the job. A cool north breeze hit Zane in the face and he could smell wood smoke from a nearby chimney. His body moved naturally with the horse, the dip and sways as much a part of him as the rhythm of lovemaking. From the left he could hear the lowing and shuffling of the royalty that awaited the registered auction that would commence at the end of the week. “Narrow miss,” he grinned, relieved that none of his animals were infectious with the dreaded disease.
Leaving the pavilion area, he could tell the ground dipped down. He was headed downhill through a thick growth of white clover. The smell was sweet, but the memory it invoked was bitter. The last time he had made love to Margaret was in this field of clover. A choking sensation of wasted dreams clogged his throat. Five years had passed, five years – by this time he had planned on having children. A harsh laugh erupted from his throat and the horse raised his head as if asking for directions. “Easy, boy, everything’s okay.” Everything was okay. He had a good life. It wasn’t a perfect life, but it was all he had.
The lapping and trickling of water told him they were nearing Piney Creek. Cheyenne’s hooves clopped over the small rocks that littered the ground on the bank incline. He was just about to get down and stretch his legs and let the horse drink when he heard Rex growl. It wasn’t a playful growl. Cheyenne stopped dead still. Even when Zane nudged his knee to move him forward, the Appaloosa stalled. And then he knew why – an eerie, unearthly scream shattered the night. Every hair on Zane’s neck stood up. For a split second, he thought he had run into a banshee – but then he heard the snarling, guttural growl of a large pissed-off feline.
Hell! He heard Rex lunge. He heard a splash. The horse reared, but he managed to hang on. “Rex! Rex!” Cheyenne backed up. The big horse was shivering, frantically trying to do what he was trained to do when every reflex he had was telling him to flee. “Rex!” Without hesitation he unwound the whip from where it was attached to the saddle. “Heel, Rex! Come!”
Zane pulled back on the reins, but Cheyenne was adamant. He didn’t turn. The service animal could see what the man could not. With powerful moves of his hind legs, the animal lunged backwards. “Rex!” Zane could hear the bodies of the canine colliding with the cougar.
Sounds bombarded his mind – the hard panting of the horse, the frenzied barking and growling of his dog and the hissing, spitting angry snarls of the cougar. “Rex – here!” Cheyenne whirled and almost unseated Zane. Zane pulled him back. “Rex!” A wounded yelp from the dog made cold chills run up and down his spine. Damn! He had done this. He had put them all in danger. How utterly stupid – what was he doing? Two animals who would die for him were the only thing between him and a killer cat. And one of his animals might die. “Rex!” he cried one more time. And then he heard him – an answering bark.
“Heel!” He demanded. Finally, he heard the breathing of the dog near the dancing hooves of the horse. Focusing with everything in him, he listened for any evidence of where the big predator was crouching. It seemed as if an eternity past – and then a sound – a snarl. He drew back his arm, flashed the whip in the air and let it go. “Raarrrr!” The sharp, slash of the leather had connected with cat hide. Immediately he repeated his motion, moving the black snake a few feet to the right and he heard the same zing and the same snarl, and then – silence.
Climbing down from off the horse, he searched for his dog. After a few seconds, Zane found Rex laying a few feet away. “Oh God boy, are you hurt?” Feeling over the lab’s body, he felt the slick wetness of blood. There were deep scratches and several bite marks. “Damn” Picking the heavy dog up, he managed to get him across the saddle and climb up with him. “Let’s go, Cheyenne.”
Cheyenne set off at a lope and Zane prayed that Rex would be all right. Every step of the way, he half expected shredding claws and piercing teeth to tear into his flesh. But it didn’t. In a few minutes, he was back at the gate. Cheyenne slowed to a walk and Zane reined him in. “Frank! Frank! Anybody! My dog is hurt!” Rex was more than his eyes, Rex was his friend.
“Boss!” Running footsteps announced that several of his employees had heard him. “What happened?”
“Cougar. Call the vet.”
Zane sighed. He’d be going to the office without his companion today. He’d be lost.
Here’s the book link
Sable's hometown will always be New Orleans. She loves the culture of Louisiana and it permeates everything she does. Now, she lives in the big state of Texas and like most southern women, she loves to cook southern food - especially Cajun and Tex-Mex. She also loves to research the supernatural, but shhhh don't tell anyone.
Sable writes saucy romances. She lives in New Orleans. She believes that her goal as a writer is to make her readers laugh with joy, cry in sympathy and fan themselves when they read the hot parts - ha!
The worlds she creates in her books are ones where right prevails, love conquers all and holding out for a hero is not an impossible dream.
The worlds she creates in her books are ones where right prevails, love conquers all and holding out for a hero is not an impossible dream.
Come see me sometime. . . . .
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