C'mon baby, light my fire!

At the risk of overdosing all you hussies on cowboys hunks (if that's even possible ;-) I had to come out in defense of the Aussie version.

While I've been gone, it seems Ci and Sally have been having so much fun here lately...oh, and Denise doing her impression of Dorothy with the red shoes, but with considerably nicer pins (honey, you should have been a model with those legs!), that y'all likely didn't even notice I've been AWOL. The silent hussy, that's me...hang on a tic--Denise is busting a gut here laughing at that. I do so know when to be quiet! *huff* Least I know better than to talk with my mouth full, if ya know what I mean *wink*.

But I have to admit that my libido was so fired up after our little visit with the incredibly yummy and eminently lickable Chase at our Hunks 'n' Hussies launch, (yes, hussies, you can put your tongues back in your mouths now, although I see Clay has been visiting too, so maybe not just yet) that I felt a need to get close to a cowboy, especially since Arizona is so bloody far away, and three on a saddle gets kinda squeezy, ain't that right, Ci? ;-)

Down here we call our cowboys "cockies". Kinda nice, don't you agree? Seems to me we're doing a disservice to the whole "cowboy" movement--such manly hunks and they're labeled "boys"? "Cocky" fits a whole lot better from where I'm look--I mean, standing.

Anyways, I headed southwest to the country town I was raised in, and decided to visit with my old mate, Bob. Bob taught me to ride when I was knee-hi to a grasshopper, and was the quintessential Aussie cocky. Great bloke, and cheeky as shit. Loved him. He'd passed on though a few years back (very sad to hear about that), but as I found out, his son Gary had inherited the farm.

Now Gary and I go way back. Not quite to nappies, but far enough that I remember when his voice broke and he went from squeaky to hell-yeah-sexy during the final years of high school. Phwraoooor! And obviously, since I have now passed my thirty-something birthday... Denise, will you stop prodding me??... okay, okay. my forty[blank] birthday a while back (happy now, Dorothy? Isn't there a yellow brick road you should be skipping down? ;-) Gary is not a twenty-year-old stud either. Who cares? Any man who calls me "Gorgeous" or "Sexy" on a regular basis has my complete attention! But seriously, if you could see this man. Improve with age?? Hell, if that's the case, I'm heading back there on a yearly basis. About six foot neat, which is fine by me, since I'm a shortie, and a body that just makes you want to sigh (and lick, and bite, and nibble-- yum!) All that tanned, muscled flesh. And a bare chest. And leather gloves. And sweat! God, I love to watch a man sweat. Okay, so I'm weird, and no, I didn't take a photo, you hussies -- I was too busy trying to roll my tongue back into my mouth. I found a picture that's close (isn't that man so fine! *sigh*), but you'd have to swap the Stetson for an Akubra, and the American twang for the good old Aussie accent (yeah, g'day mate! LOL) The rest of the package, though, oh my, Yes! Yes! Yes! (Meg Ryan, eat your heart out, honey ;-)

But while I was brushing up on Gar-- I mean, on my riding skills, I realized something. Something profound, and deep, and probably more a result from discovering that dancing "skyclad" (go read Ciana's Chase 'n' Ana if you want to know what that is!) with an appreciative audience really is all Ci cracks it up to be.

Young hunks are wonderful. Truly. All that energy and enthusiasm, not to mention STAMINA. Yeah, baby! It's impressive all right. But let's not discount the older hunks. Just like a fine wine, they say. What?? How boring is that! Sure, it's nice and smooth on your tongue, but one good swallow and it's gone, ya know? No, I prefer to compare hunks to fireworks. Young ones resemble those fireworks that go for the big bang...I mean, boom. Lots of noise, make the ground shake and a big show of sparkles, but then poof! it's all over, Red Rover, until you relight the fuse (admittedly, you can relight the fuse quite a few times before the "wick" burns down *eg*).

The "mature" hunks though, are like those fireworks that are a bit slower letting off the sparks, but when they do... you know the ones--it's about more than rockets and noise. Lots of colours in the first round of explosions, smaller booms, then more lights and colours--until the big finale. The ones that get all the "Oooh's!" and "Aaaah's!"and definitely the applause. Yep, I reckon I applauded till the cows came home while I was with Gary.

And you know what the older hunks have all over the younger ones? P-A-C-E. You see, they're not in a hurry, they like to savor their treats, lick their nip--er, nibbles, and it really is all about enjoying the ride, not how quickly they (and you) reach the destination.

Yep, I did a lot of riding in the past two weeks. Even made it onto a horse a time or two... *wg*

So, Ci? Let Chase know I'm ready whenever he is...got my spurs and all. Soon as you're done with him, of course ;-)

Have a wonderful day, hussies!

Susie