The Cowboy
Picture an old, musty saloon in Texas filled with old West and cattle
raisin' memorabilia. At the bar an older rough-and-ready cowhand with a
dirty Stetson, well-worn boots and faded Levi's sits with a glass and a
half-empty bottle of "Red Eye".
A beautiful young lady 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 longhorns, 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
breasts 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 another 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."
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