Picture an old, musty saloon in Southwest Texas filled
with ole West and cattle raisin' memorabilia. At the
bar an old rough and ready cowhand with a dirty
Stetson and well-worn boots and faded Levi's, sits
with a glass and a half empty bottle of "Red Eye". A
beautiful young thing comes in and sits right beside
him. She looks him over and asks, "Are you a real
cowboy?"
He looks back at her and says, "I get up at the crack
of dawn, saddle an old horse, round up long horns,
corral doggies, rope and brand calves, eat dust from
moving herds, live on half-baked beans and bad coffee
365 days a year. Yeah, I'm a real cowboy.
Are you a real model?"
"No," she says. "I'm a lesbian. I wake up in the
morning thinking how empty my bed looks without a
sweet young, naked girlish body lying next to me, I
bathe wishing there was a young nubile body in there
with me that I could rub with soap, I go to breakfast
thinking of pert little boobs and nice flat tummies
that I would love to massage, I spend the whole day
thinking of nude girls and naked mature women. Yes,
I'm a real lesbian.
An hour later a pair of tourists sits down beside
the old cowpoke and ask, "Are you a real cowboy?"
He looks at them and says, "I always thought so until
an hour ago when I found out I was a lesbian." |
