Cowboys make beautiful lovers!
As an author, I know it. As a reader, you probably do, too, especially if you are here reading this!
Being an East Coast gal who has been transported to deep in the heart of Texas, I tell you I never knew a cowboy till I got here. Never even hoped to meet one. True. True. My idea of a sexy guy was a Suit with the Suave of 007.
Now, 15 years after moving to southwest Texas and cowboy country, I have a craving for genuine western men. Cowboys. Rodeo contenders. Ranchers. Sheriffs. Texas Rangers. They are different from their coastal counterparts. Living with longhorns and cattle, fighting dust and draught, scorpions and cacti, hard winters and summers without water make a man tough. Sturdy. Inventive. And funny.
Definitely, they appeal to us for their legendary individuality. But their roughness—and their need to be rough means they have the grit, true grit, to love a woman hard and fast.
More than that, I think these men are much stronger characters in erotica--and more true to life! The rough, tough type of man we think of as a cowboy is best personified by a man with a load of testosterone. Hence, a hot and heavy erotica fits best.
I like writing these men with a great sense of understanding and I got that way because living in cowboy country, I know these boys! I have worked with them, played with them (at the local Chamber of Commerce and other local events.)
They are truly independent. With a capital I.
They do not mess with details. This, of course, can get them in trouble. But they tend not to care. They let others work on that pesky little stuff for them.
They have other traits I love. For example, they know how to use a lasso. They do rope animals. Corral them. Kill them. And stuff them. Then mount them on the walls of their living rooms, if their wives will let them—or if not, on the walls of their den. If that fails, the front of their trucks can bear a brace of 15 foot longhorns. Yes, indeedy.
They do take care of their appearance. They are fit. Very. And need no gym membership to hone those delicious muscles. And as for attire, beard, etc? They are not particular but pull on those worn, comfortable jeans and plaid shirt to be out there on a horse. Chaps (yum, yum) if necessary. But at home with their women, at a dance hall to do a graceful (do not use that word, though, puleeez) Two Step, they dress. Knife-pressed, starched jeans. White, starched shirt. Damnedest big silver buckle on their belt. Bigger than...well, any one else's, donchaknow. Boots. Knee high. Polished. Leather or Ostrich. Hand tooled. Cut to a fare thee well. Spurs. (Tingly, yet?)
They also know how to cook. Well. Really, they know how to barbeque. Hottest, damn coals are best, thank you, ma'am.
What do they cook? Ribs. Beef, pork, baby backs. Fajitas, especially down here in south Texas, these meats are our specialty. They also do Mean Beans. MEAN. (Bring your constitution, please.) Brisket, they will smoke it till it falls apart in your fingers. You get all gooey and you must lick yourself clean.
Hmmm. Method? Madness?
What else can they do?
They know how to wield a bull whip.
A carving knife.
A lasso.
Biggest trucks I have ever seen.
They are not good with eloquence of the East Coast variety. But they do know how to speak their minds...and their hearts.
Gimme a cowboy every time.
Cerise DeLand
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