Guest Blog on Regina May Ross's Blog

FOUR LETTER WORDS!!!

I am in the process of revamping my Hell Yeah! books and releasing them as mainstream. I’m not doing away with the erotic romance versions and I will write more of them, but I want the books to be available to more people.  And some folks just won’t read a book with a lot of four letter words and explicit sex. So, I’m trying to cover all the bases. I feel the stories are strong enough , the plot thick enough and the characters complex enough to withstand the toning down of the hot stuff. Whew! 

While we were going through Cowboy Heat and Hot On Her Trail and damping down the flames, it hit me – who determines when a word is an ‘ugly’ word. I have heard about profanity and curse words and ugly words all of my life and I just wondered  - who decided if a word was inappropriate or not. Who are the ugly word police? Was it invented to be an ugly word? Did someone just say one day, “I need to really insult that man, what can I say?” And if the word was coined, wouldn’t it lose some of its umph if you had to explain it. “Yea, I just called you an asshole! Haha, well, maybe that one is self-explanatory.

I do know that words have evolved over time. The word ‘grass’ sure has taken on a new meaning in the last few decades, it now means more than the covering of your lawn. ‘Gay’ is another word that has gone through transitions. Gay used to mean that you were happy. Now, it may still mean that you are happy, but you are also fond of the same sex – romantically speaking. I know two people who were named Gay  - their first name. One of them died early, but the other one had her name legally changed. She just didn’t want to be known as ‘Gay’. What was so sad was that her twin’s name was Kay. Gay and Kay became Gladys and Kay – not the same.

So, I decided to take a few words and try to determine how they became – SHOCKING! The first one that comes to mind, obviously is the F word. I daren’t even type it out. Jess used the slang word DAFUQ the other day and I had one blogger ask me if it was misspelled! WATDAFUQ? Obvious to me. But let’s put on our thinking caps and find out. Hmmmm. Here is what I found. There are two original words which they think our word came from.  Both are Germanic – one is fokken, which means ‘to breed’ and pfluog which meant ‘to plow’. Somehow they got slanged around until it is now a word that can be used to insult or demean. Of course, we erotic romance writers use It as a word of heated desire or an exclamation of disgust. There used to be a story about its origination that I liked better, but it has fell out of popularity. The old story was that during the days of the Black Death where social interaction was to be kept at a minimum, you had to get permission to get pregnant. The King had issued a proclamation that was to be nailed to their door that proclaimed the couple was 


Fornicating Under the Consent of the King. I like that version better.   
 
Another word I’d like to analyze is the slang word for manure. My mom had an uppity accent and she told me to get my tail out of the house and clean the horse MANURE off of my shoes, I did as she said. But who came up with Sh*t? Well, let’s see. The German word was schite and it meant to separate oneself, thus when you eliminated your waste, you were separating it from yourself.  We now use it to mean everything from trouble to MANURE to an explanation of surprise. There’s a funny explanation story attached to this one to, it was supposedly coined by the shipping industry when they determined that transporting fertilizer or cow patties or whatever could be dangerous if it were to be shipped low in the vessel where it could become wet or overheat – and KABOOM! So they would instruct them


 to Store High In Transit. My Goodness!

Two more words and I’ll hush – I promise. They are words I use often and my readers expect. Cock and Pussy. Well, this is just amazing. Obviously both are animals. My research let me to the realization that strutting roosters was one analogy and the other was a little more complex – when one was making beer, they would turn the ‘cock’ up and drain out the beer. I guess men are still draining out the beer – through the little spout in their britches – that was bad. 

Now, on to pussy. The Germans had another word, puse, which meant pouch. There was also a French word pucelle that meant virgin and a really odd one pusillaniomous which meant ‘a tiny spirit without courage’. My Word! Well, you can see how these might have got mish-mashed around to finally evolve into pussy, but its not easy an easy transiton.

I did reach some conclusions. First, most of the words that make us blush are just jumbled up monikers of old words that actually meant something else. People can get insulted from strange things. Most nationalities have words that they consider to be an insult. Words are words and can be used to build up or tear down. The old saying that sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me is not necessarily true. People get excited over words. Women don’t like to be called fat and if my uncle calls me a liberal again in that snide little voice, I’m going to whack him one. The second conclusion I reached was that we need to watch out for those Germans, they’re the ones that are talking ugly! 

So, when I was trying to make COWBOY HEAT acceptable to the masses, I had to take out some four letter words, I had to smooth out some thrusting and eliminate some pumping and quit blowing a lot of thing – haha. 

Here’s the much talked about Stock Tank Scene cleaned up, spiffed up and ready for Main Street. What do you think? Did I go far enough?



EXCERPT FROM COWBOY HEAT – the SWEETER VERSION – the NOT EROTIC VERSION 

Libby walked up to the stock tank, trailing her hand in the cool, clear water. The glow from the security light was bright enough that he could see her quite clearly. The night was still enough that he could hear her sigh. She held the towel together over her breasts; her legs were long, sleek and bare. Moonlight gave the pale skin of her body an iridescent quality. She could have been a wood nymph come out to play. Aron was totally enchanted. How he had walked away from this sweet thing was one of life’s great mysteries. Midnight dark hair hung to her waist in thick, spiral curls. For a few tense minutes, Aron forgot to breathe.

The towel dropped.

Aron groaned.

Underneath that towel was nothing but beautiful, smooth, creamy skin. God in heaven, she was nude! Gloriously, magnificently nude! How long had it been since he had seen a naked woman outside of the pages of a magazine? Too long. Way, too damn long. And no woman he had ever been with had looked like this one. The clothes she had dressed herself in ought to be taken out back and burned. They were a sacrilege to nature. Nothing should ever hide those luscious hills and valleys from his hungry eyes.

Libby still had her back to him. It appeared she was trying to figure out how to climb into the tank. There was a ladder about twenty feet to the left of her, but if he called out that information he would give himself away and she would vanish from his sight like a frightened fairy. She placed her hands on the rim of the tank and tried to pull her little self up and over. Partially successful, she managed to get her incredible tush elevated so he could see a sweet little vee and past that – paradise.

Aron couldn’t help but smile as he listened to her little grunts as she exerted herself. She wasn’t very strong and soon she dropped back to the ground with a disappointed huff. He rubbed his palms on his denim-covered knees, aching to rub them over the tempting curve of her bottom.

“Turn around, Baby. Turn around.” At that moment, he would have gladly given his share of Tebow to see her breasts. “Turn around, Sweetheart, lest I die,” he whispered.

The Lord giveth...blessed be the name of the Lord. Libby turned and bent to pick up the towel. Twin globes of perfection hung down like the most delicious fruit. Sweet Jesus! Honey-dews! Aron licked his lips, imagining how it would feel to claim those beauties, massaging them until she arched her back in ecstasy. He opened his mouth, slightly, as if in anticipation of fitting his lips over those incredible swollen tips. He was in lust! Deep, intense, nerve shattering lust! Aron had never been privileged to suckle on nipples as large as hers. Sabrina’s nipples had been stingy, just like the rest of her. But Libby had nipples that were pink and puffy, just begging to be kissed.

For a long, sorry moment, Aron thought she was about to give up and leave. Instead, she slung the towel over her shoulder and turned sideways, apparently ready to walk around the tank in search of a way to enter for a swim. From this angle, he could appreciate the shape and size of her breasts. His palms itched to cup them. They were full and round. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to make them disappear beneath his palms, but he longed to rub on them like Aladdin’s lamp. He wouldn’t need another wish granted…touching her would be reward enough. Never before had he faced the possibility of erupting like a geyser without a single touch from his own hand or anyone else’s. Unzipping his fly, Aron sought to gain some relief. 

There was no way in hell that he was going to be able to stay away from her. She was the most tempting, succulent goddess he had ever been privileged to pay homage to. Walking around the tank, he heard her satisfied little exclamation when she finally found the ladder. In just seconds, she was up and over and the splash made him shiver. How he longed to cover her body like those warm, lucky waters.

Smiling, he watched her frolic in the water. Right by herself, she laughed and played. Aron wondered if she was lonely. Surprisingly, he wanted to know. Seeing her enjoy these few, stolen moments after the difficult day she had endured, tugged at places in his heart that he had thought were out of commission. Unable to resist, he placed one hand on the windowsill and the other on himself and began stroking. Aron rested his chin on his forearm, captivated by her beauty and charm.

Then the game changed. Completely.

Libby began to touch herself. 

Hypnotized, his mouth fell open as he gazed at her in rapt admiration. He watched her lean back on the rim and raise her body in a float. Aron had to bite his lip to keep from moaning when she cupped her own breasts and began to caress the tender mounds. Mesmerized, he watched her shape them and coax them into bountiful little mountains of gorgeous female flesh. When she began to pull on her nipples, stretching them out and milking them between her fingers, his hips bucked, begging to be allowed to join in the party. It wasn’t just a few half-hearted tugs. Libby seemed to relish the attention she gave herself. Apparently, she had spent a great deal of time practicing this particular skill, and God, if Aron had been called upon to judge her performance, he would have given her a perfect 10.

Aron was holding himself firmer now, getting more and more excited by the second, and Libby’s sensual little performance had him racing toward the finish line. God, it was good! He imagined joining her in the warm water, slipping up close and covering one of those luscious nipples with his eager lips. God, he would love to devour her like a starving man presented with a T-bone steak. Damn!

Aron’s breath hung in his throat when he watched one hand slip down past her waist to the dark little patch of curls. Her fingers curled and dipped, rhythmically working on her sweet spot. She thrashed in the water, trying to stay afloat, even while her legs and hips pumped in absolute abandon. Aron’s hand kept up with her erotic dance, his own level of excitement reaching plateaus that he had rarely ever scaled.

Then, the world stopped turning. Aron knew that if he died at that moment, he would have no regrets. Libby’s enjoyment sent him roaring off the cliff, flying apart in ecstasy. Never had he climaxed with such a violent explosive force. His eyes never left her, his ears were attuned to every word she screamed. And if he lived to be a hundred, he would never forget the sound of her husky little voice. For as Libby Fontaine brought herself to a glorious completion, it was his name she had shouted. “Aron! Aron! Oh, God, Aron, I want you so much!”

Posted on Regina May Ross's Blog, May, 28, 2013. http://www.reginamayross.net/1/post/2013/05/-guest-blog-by-sable-hunter.html
*Be advised any contest or giveaway held during this Post was on Regina May Ross's Blog and not on this blog.*