I enjoy writing erotica and sharing it with a select few people, but what really gets me wet is sharing the lighter side of Cowboy Lover with everyone. So, here are some of my musings in a more mainstream format. I wrote this first piece last summer. While it was not a typical day, it was a day that represented my mind-set at the time. Riding Drunk, Stoned, and High on Nicotine – I had to work today. I put it off for as long as I could, even showed up a half hour late, but nonetheless, I found myself at the home on the lake, vacuuming, scrubbing, and dusting for that 55 dollar extravaganza I call pay day. After an uneventful, and somewhat tedious, 4 hours of menial, even-a-chimp-could-do- it, manual labor, I rushed home, grabbed a field greens and green grape salad, plunked my butt down in front of my faithful Dell and immersed myself into a world of cyber reality. I headed for my favorite horse forum and perused the recent posts. My attention span was at its minimal, so I PM’ed a few of the chosen ones and commenced with the adult chatting. During the course of said chatting, I poured myself a glass of cabernet/merlot. I did my best to shock and awe my co-chatters, more to entertain myself than them, digging deep for that little something that makes people gasp and feel like they have walked into something much too surreal for them to grasp. All was good, all was swell, and then an angry jolt of reality hit me, leaving me feeling edgy, and nervous, off- kilter and jittery. I felt like I could explode into a million tiny pieces of random emotion. I needed to split. I logged off, chugged some more wine, and headed for the barn. Much to his chagrin, I groomed, then saddled Amante, and mounted up. We headed for the Fire Tower. Amante cortoed out with much head tossing, snorting, and chain jingling. His hoofbeats were music on the freshly paved road. After a bit, we took a turn onto a dirt road that lead to the tower. I was still feeling edgy, but that feeling was being replaced with another. Naughtiness. I was feeling a little wild, daring and unpredictable, was it the wine or the Paso? I do not know, but my mindset changed, doing a 180 degree turn on a dime. I leaned forward and pushed my pelvis into the saddle, and Amante broke into an easy canter as we passed the last house on the road, heading further into the state forest. As we neared the top of the first hill, I slowed him to a walk and saw a car coming our way. As it approached, I guided Amante up onto the bank and off the road. As the car passed, I looked down and saw it was full of young men. The sound of Pearl Jam boomed out of the window, accompanied by the waft of cigarette smoke. Man, I wanted a cigarette! I almost turned and followed them, but they sped down the hill and turned out of sight before the thought had completely crossed my mind. I urged Amante back onto the road and continued. After a few minutes, a black Jeep appeared. I rode to the shoulder and waited for its approach. I wrestled with the idea of flagging the driver down and bumming a smoke. Could I possibly be so bold, so forward, so desperate? As I thought and pondered if I was, the jeep got close enough for me to see its occupants. SWEET FANCY MOSES, there were two smoking hotties in the front seat! Mind made up, I made Amante stand in the middle of the road as I waved my hand, put on my best Vegas showgirl smile, and thrust my chest forward. The driver, (I will now refer to him as Brad Pitt ) had no choice but to stop, and I rode Amante over to the jeep and looked at him, right into the bluest eyes I have ever seen. I fairly burst with come-on-and take-me vibes when I saw how, hot, young, and lithe he was. I said, “So, whatcha boys doin’?” Brad said, “I just got this Jeep yesterday, and we took it up to the tower.” The boy in the passenger seat, who shall henceforth be known as Keanu Reeves, cracked open a beer, as I brazenly bummed a Marlboro Light off of Brad and eyed the boy in the back seat, who I shall now dub, The Homely Boy in the Red Shorts, or THBITRS. After some brief banter, Keanu asked if he could ride Amante. I laughed and said, “How many times have you ridden, cowboy?” He said twice. Blame it on the nicotine buzz, the wine, or the smell of fresh meat, but I said, “I’ll trade ya a ride for a beer, and a coupla hits off that joint that THBITRS is hiding between his legs.” THBITRS passed the joint out the window, and Keanu hopped out of the Jeep, saying, “I am soo gonna ride that motherfuckin’ horse!” His friends rooted him on as only stoned, drunken friends can with many, “You rocks!” and “Dude, your gonna die’s” I hauled wholeheartedly on the joint, feeling “the spins” for just a sec, then steadied myself and brought Amante to the rear of the jeep and faced him away from home. I dismounted and held Amante as Keanu spryly leapt upon the saddle with much gusto and outrageous bravado. I could tell in an instant that I had made a mistake, but by the time I exhaled, it seemed like a great idea again. “How do I steer this thing?” Keanu said. I said, “Pull the left rein to go left, pull the right rein to go right, and pull both reins to stop.” (That’s all there really is to riding, right?) I added, “And DO NOT kick him, he will leave you in the dirt.” Keanu nodded, and promptly jammed his heels into Amante’s sides. Amante took off, almost throwing Keanu off, but he regained his seat, shortened the reins, and they were off. I immediately turned my attention back to Brad and the joint still clutched in my hand. I wanted to lay my lips upon both of them, and was quite torn for a second, then Brad handed me a Coors Light that he had opened for me. (Ah, such a sweet boy!) I was all bubbly and smiles as I started to tell him about the Puerto Rican Day parade. (It is THE story to tell to strangers. When they hear it they think you are cool, oh so very, cool) “Yeah, there were 30 million people all screaming and….” I looked up and saw Amante and Keanu approaching. Dang! I needed more time with Brad, so I said, “What, are you some kind of pussy? Turn him around and ride for a while.” They did a u-turn and headed back up the road. I locked eyes with Brad once again and said, “Now where was I? Oh yeah, there were 80 million people all screaming and….” I hear off in the distance, “whoa!” “…and they were going nuts, waving flags, blowing horns.” This time it’s closer, “Whoa!” “Did you just hear, ‘whoa?’” says Brad. I look up and here comes Amante, flat out, with Keanu pulling on the reins, one at a time. Amante looks like he’s bending invisible poles and his eyes are rolled back in his head almost as far as his rider’s. I handed Brad the beer and the joint, which I was Bogarting as if my life depended on it, and made like a windmill with my arms. Amante, gods bless him, stopped right in front of me and I grabbed the reins. I looked up at the ashen faced manchild on his back, trying not to laugh, but not quite succeeding. The boys in the jeep were going off like crazed hyenas as Keanu dismounted and ran into the woods to throw up. I calmed Amante and brought him over to the jeep again so I could leer at Brad just a bit more. I fairly drooled upon him as I asked, “So, where ya from? How old are you? Ya dig older women?” (I only thought that last question.) I hear THBITRS pipe up from the back seat, “I live on the lake and I’m 19” (Like I was talking to him or something, geesh!) Brad tells me his is from a coupla towns over and he too is 19. After some quick math, well, actually, not so very quick, I realized I was more than twice his age. In fact I could have been his mother. Libido torn to shreds with the stark reality of it all, I started to say my goodbyes as Keanu, sporting a fresh puke stain on his shirt, got back into the jeep. “Hey, hang on, party with us a while.” he says. Although my heart wasn’t in it, I forced myself to smoke half a joint and suck down a Coors, all the while mesmerized by Brad’s smooth skin, blue eyes, and yummy dimples. After a bit, I said I had to go, Brad handed me another beer for the road, and I mounted up turned to head out again. It was then that THBITRS got both his nuts in one sack, and shouted out, “Hey, are you sure your ass is big enough for that saddle?” That sent the trio into fits of laughter that will forever echo in my ears. After a bit of sputtering and a hearty, “Go fuck yerselves!” I rode off. I turned the still shaken Amante down a trail and headed down the mountain. I remember that much. The next thing I know, we are on another dirt road and I noticed the sun was rapidly setting. My concern for the impending darkness was overshadowed by my lust for more booze and nicotine, and I steered Amante up the driveway of a lady I had met once. Yes, I said once, like for about 5 minutes, at my son’s school. She said to stop by when I was in the neighborhood. She and her heartstopping rack left an impression on me, a very good one, so I did just that. She came out of the house with a cigarette in her hand and a beer in the other. I almost wet myself. After some brief banter, I bummed a Camel and a Molson off of her and started to tell her about the Puerto Rican Day Parade. “There were 200 million screaming people on the street, firing off guns, throwing Molotov cocktails and brandishing poisonous serpents…” “Honey, can you get me a drink?” I heard a male voice say out from under a truck parked in the yard. I gasped as a tall, tanned, muscular, manstud (He will forever in my heart be known as, George Clooney.) started walking towards us wiping grease off of his hands on a rag. As he approached, Amante, sensing my desire, actually started walking to meet him. Gods bless his little heart! I dismounted and lurched towards him in a gait neverbefore seen by man, woman, or child. Gravity was getting me down, but I wasn’t gonna let it win. I crossed my eyes to get a better perspective, and gave him my best, tear-me-up-big-boy smile as I swayed gently in the twilight. Motioning to the house with my head, I turned to his wife and said, “I believe he asked for a drink.” She obeyed and walked off. I gave George a good looking over, and commenced with the flirting. “So, what’s wrong with yer truck”? I cooed, as I took a power drag off the Camel so deep that, it made me hear a sound akin to epileptic woodpeckers having at a tin roof. “Oh, the trans-shock-hose somethin’ or other went and….” I didn’t catch the rest of what he said, as just then the door of the house opened, an “Oh shit!” was screamed, and a rather large dog came bounding out, hell-bent on taking out Amante. George met the dog halfway and grabbed him by his collar. Amante was ready to bolt, and ran circles around me as I chugged the rest of my beer and drew a last puff off the Camel. “Well, ith gettin darth, I’d bedder go. Thanss for the drinkandsmoke.” I slurred. I guided Amante to a nearby stump, and with much gusto and outrageous bravado, mounted, jabbed my heels into his ribs and we were off. At some point, I recall hearing the sound of his hooves on pavement, so I knew we were close to home. I sang a little tune to myself and relished the phenomenal buzz I had going as we pulled into the driveway. I dismounted, and reached for my helmet to take it off, and realized I had never put it on in the first place. Then, I untacked, and put Amante away, laughing like a lunatic at my recklessness. I went into the house, had the old man pour me a glass of wine, plunked my butt in front of my Dell and started writing this little story. That was two days ago. I just finished it today. I hope you enjoyed it.