My guess is that you’re already wet and hot, visions of a stunning man in tight, faded blue jeans and boots, three-day stubble and a wicked grin has taken over your inner mind. Certainly various fantasies have the rugged hunk embroiled in your darkest hungers. On come on. Doesn’t every girl long for a cowboy to whisk her away into the desert? The notion of their swagger alone is enough to drive me into a state of bliss.
Okay, I’m not going to lie. I like my men well, like men. I don’t have any desire for a pretty boy who understands fashion better than I do. The term ‘metrosexual’ gives me shudders, and not for a good reason. Nope. I want my man looking, smelling and tasting all male, rugged and without any pretense. What’s more masculine than a cowboy? Salt of the earth. Yummy.
Oddly enough, I’ve never really thought of cowboys as the epitome of sexiness. That is until the first time I saw John Patrick in a pair of boots.
He’s a big guy anyway – six foot five. Even adding the inch or so heel, the look of the leather and the way he carried himself while walking – whew baby. I think I drooled in the store that day. I had instant visions of him riding a huge steed, a rope in his massive hand with a golden hued sun setting in the distance. You bet I actually begged him to keep his boots on when he spanked me later that day. I can’t explain the difference in my mind as he pulled me over his knees. And yes, he was wearing those blue jeans. I’ll never forget the sound of his voice, deep and so commanding. He was in his element, taking total control. I swooned and the day in the store, a western shop by the way, everyone in the place could tell something special was happening.
Maybe I purposely decided to be a naughty girl that day. Perhaps I pushed him just a bit, being the rather assertive chick I am. I know me – I wanted a reaction. Boy, did I get one in the form of a hard spanking.
I shivered long before his palm smacked against my naked bottom. I remember that I placed my hand on his boot as he delivered my punishment and I think I was in a trance. Why was there a distinct difference that day? Was it because he’d fully embraced the role of the complete dominant or was I simply enthralled by some Neanderthal concept of power, his power? Hell, I don’t know. What I can tell you is that I’m not the only woman who feels this way. Cowboy spanking stories fly off the shelf. I have a publisher begging me to combine my love of spanking with a cowboy tale. I almost laughed at the thought initially because I just didn’t get why women are so fascinated. Then I thought about JP and the total power exchange that occurred on that single day. Even seeing his boots carefully placed in the stack with his other shoes made me salivate. The evening he spanked me after the purchase, we’d been drinking wine, talking about the day and enjoying the crisp air. He mentioned the fact I’d been a bit out of sorts, even snarky to him during our day of shopping. Of course me being me, I disagreed, giving him a huff and going inside to grab the bottle of wine. I realized I was being disobedient. I had no doubt what was going to happen. I waited inside, slowly fingering the bottle of wine. True to form, I heard the door open seconds later, knew he was behind me and instantly my legs began to wobble.
“It’s time for a spanking.”
The words lingered in the air. I leaned against the counter, gripping the edge. All I could think about was how he looked in his boots. It was a crazy moment and succumbing to his position wasn’t a question, but an understanding I belonged to him. Isn’t that the way of the cowboy? Taking the feisty girl by the arm, dragging her over his horse and riding into the sunset? Even the old movies depicted his complete domination. The cowboy way, taking no shit from anyone, including his woman. You know my thoughts on a man being in control. They were hunters and gatherers long before modernism came into the picture. Many women want nothing more than to give over the reigns – no pun intended. So back to the warm day in September.
On that day, JP dragged a kitchen chair out into the middle of the room and pulled me by the arm, planting me over his legs. There was no question, no conversation other than three other little words. “You need this.” And boy did I ever.
He tugged my dress up, yanked down my panties and placed one hand on the small of my back. No amount of wiggling gave me any room to move. Then again, challenging him wasn’t in my mind. I’ll never forget thinking about the open windows and wondering whether my neighbors would hear the sounds of one bad girl being put in her place.
He peppered my ass with hard smacks, one right after the other. While I hadn’t cried even one time before, on that day I was reduced to tears, whimpering as he continued spanking me. There’s no reason, given the whipping wasn’t any harder than those he’d doled out before, but lordy I was in a heightened state. My skin tingled, my pussy clenched and I wasn’t concerned about how long the punishment went on. I have no idea how many strikes he issued, but when he was done and pulled me onto his lap, I was in ecstasy. Is this because of a simple purchase of boots? Did I somehow realize just how much I’d longed for what I considered a truly powerful man taking full control? I’m certain various psychologists would have exacting opinions. What knew was that at that moment, I wanted nothing more than to please him. If you ask what happened after… Let’s just say the night of passion was intense.
Is there something ultra hot about a cowboy? Well, all I can tell you is that I have consistent fantasies and they seem to revolve around those cowboy boots. I have a feeling a cowboy story is in the making. What do you think? What’s your idea of the perfect, commanding man?
Kisses and spanks…