Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Vignette: Stuck my dick in turkey...think anybody will notice?

This little gem from Thanksgiving 2008 is a prequel to Bouncer!

Lulu Belle (cooks for my Ganny) was prepping the turkey for today, and she needed more stuff so she ran to the store real quick. Well I was walking around the house and I got into the kitchen and I saw the turkey on the table ...Me being a horny ass I decided how it would feel to stick my dick in it. 

She was asking for it, looking all succulent and shit!

So after many fights with myself on whether to do it or not I decided to stick it in real quick....give the turkey some "stuffing" LOL... So I went for it and it felt weird. My question is would anybody notice that it happened? It's not like I tore it up...turns out I stuck mah dick in the hole where it's head use to be...I didn't cum in the turkey that would be sick--just a coupla thrusts to get the feeling...I mean I don't see how anybody would notice-- I’m just being a bit paranoid!

I my defense I’m a  stuck at my Ganny’s home in Jackson -f'n cowtown- Mississippi –ain’t no hot chicks nowhere aroun’...when I said I would come for T day I thought she was planning on being at her home in New Orleans--not up here! LOL

G: I have not changed your room since your last visit here!
M: Ganny, I was SIX!


POST SCRIPT 2015: after news of what the Prime Minister of  the United Kingdom did when he was young with a roasted pig, I don't feel quite as weird about this incident as I once did.

David Cameron and the Pig Fucker Society
 of Oxford University

and in 2015!

Monday, November 23, 2015

Vignette: Why I don't do Dinner Parties



Originally Published September 30,  2006

I arrived at the parent's house of one of my friends round 4:00 in the afternoon. His mother and father were hosting a dinner party of sorts for their son (my friend) who recently made the family proud by earning a prestigious award from our school. Many of his close relatives were in attendance for the joyous celebration, including his elderly grandmother, the guest of honor. Normally I wouldn't be caught dead going to something like this but free food can sometimes fuck up my better judgment. 

As I entered living room I was amazed to see like twenty well dressed people in attendance, many in suits. My friend briskly introduced me, which caused a quiet stir regarding my apparel - a cut-off sleeve shirt replete with protein shake stains, bolstered by greasy sweat pants and white, Payless brand shoes. I compensated by performing an awe-inspiring lat spread for all to admire.  A few of the gentlemen were sporting boners and several of the ladies looked like they were getting moist.

Shortly thereafter we were all seated for the main course - a delightful roast of Eastern European Dove battered in Romanian tomato sauce, or some such shit. After a grueling 20 rep squat workout, I was ready to chow down a flock of them fucking pigeons. 

As chance would have it, I was seated next to the grandmother of the family, the royal matriarch who was well nie one hundred and forty-two years of age. I was struck by the glaring similarity she possessed to the personage of one Bilbo Baggins. She could not have stood more than two and one-half feet tall, although her glory days of standing were well over. She was solely relegated to a small wheelchair, customized with gaudy, brass-encrusted 22's. Rollin' on dubs, that ol' hen was. She emitted a foul-smelling residue that hinted of cottage cheese and Tabasco sauce. Her voice cracked and sputtered like the rusty confines of an engine struggling to start. A thoroughly stinky little critter, she was. 

As we proceeded to dine, the little creature made valiant but futile attempts at striking conversation with me. I politely responded to her questions, and flashing the obligatory double bi for her to ponder over After ten minutes of conversation, I grew weary of her incessant voice, and, concealed by the boisterous conversations ensuing to either side of me, quietly told her to "Shut the fuck up or I will END  you.

Her voice soon ceased to be heard. Although I was enjoying the dishes and the sight of my friend's mother's tender breasts baking in the sublime light cast by the overhead chandelier, something seemed amiss. Soon I realized that food was beginning to disappear on my plate. As I pondered my predicament, I quickly realized that it was the little varmint sitting next to me who was to blame for the stealing of my sustenance. When my eyes were cast elsewhere, I noticed that the foul insect would quietly snag food from my plate and bring it to hers. 

Enraged that this little crusty demon would have the audacity to steal food from me during a bulking cycle, I resolved to take action. I decided that I would be responsible and mature about how would deal with the situation, noting that it would be disrespectful for me to cause a scene as a guest in another man's house. 

So, I leaned toward the little creature, and stealthily JABBED MY FORK INTO HER OFFENDING HAND. 

"Damn you bitch! How dare you sass me!"
She screamed in terror and fell backwards from her wheelchair. Not one to take shit from elderly women, I immediately pounced on her and put a fat rear naked choke on her ass. By this time every person had pranced from their seats and were taking hostile action against me. Four men ripped me from the elderly lady before I put her to sleep, Matt Hughes style. 

I fought the men off and made my way to the front door amid screams and curses. As the old hamster lay bleeding and dazed on the carpet, my friend stood sobbing, trying to calm everyone down. As I left the house, the last thing I heard him screaming was "He was on a bulking cycle! A bulking cycle! He had no other choice!

I am now back home and still continuing to deal with the victimization that confronted me. I pray that I will not have to face off against that elderly little rat in the near future.

Thursday, November 19, 2015

Musings from Valhalla: The Food Network


Yeah, I watch the food network... when I'm hungry its kinda like porn.  Do you know it's literally impossible to make that shit? Literally, I was trying to make some southwestern mango chicken with herbs and roasted red peppers or something I  saw this chick on there make, and I burnt down my kitchen. i have to buy a new kitchen because of false advertising    They're not really making that shit, it's plastic and CGI.
Plastic food: See what I mean!

Here's my take on a couple of the shows: Giada De Laurentiis: She's hot.

 I jacked off to the episode where she makes stuffed mushrooms

Rachael Ray: 

She is the one with the "30 minute meals"-- I  tried to make her "'butter glazed ham with twice baked ranch flavored potatoes' in 30 minutes once and it ended up taking me like 3 hours--Yeah, sure it COOKS in 30 minutes, washing every freaking dish and cleaning up the kitchen now THAT takes 2.5 hours. Should be called: 'Dishes and Cleaning The Kitchen with Rachel Ray in UNDER 3 hours!' and have a calendar for their timer.

"Oh the Food Network...oh yes....yes...YES..."
*fap fap fap*

Tuesday, November 17, 2015

Musings from Valhalla: Mule the Public (and Pubic) servant

Sometimes I go sober to bars and pick fights with drunk guys on purpose just for fun

Last Thursday in Boulder (college night at a popular bar) I went in and noticed this douchy looking jacked up  kid who lifted and juiced.... 

....who was obviously wasted as hell, and I just decided that I would beat his ass cause I didn't like the way he sounded - he was too loud for my liking.

 I kept my eye on him most of the night and when he went to the bathroom I went after him, calmly. When I walked in he was washing his hands and checking his face in the mirror and I just slapped him. He goes: "The fuk?!!!!" and we threw hands and then  I put him to sleep with my famous five punch combo, before the bouncers broke in. Of course the bouncers bought my story as I was the only one conscious, and they were so fucking scared of me they could of been kissing my big muscular glutes the way they fawned all over me, guess my reputation vis-a-vis Bouncers had  reached Boulder, as I haven't had any trouble here, they might as well salute every time I walk up to the door.   Of course as he came too, they kicked his beaten and confused ass out.  He should be wearing a nice shiner at school tomorrow!

Mule said to take you out with the trash,
and what Mule says goes!

"I still don't understand what the fuck happened,
 everything is hazy for the last forty minutes or so....
I do remember this giant fist
flyin' at mah face though....

And it's just funny how these severly drunk dickheads all think they are MMA fighters when they are drunk LOL especially when they go for the takedown LOL

How they THINK it's going to go:
 "Light's out Mule!"

How it actually goes:
College jock:  "Mrmghemmmm"
Mule" "Swallow every drop, you gonna
need protein if you wanna avoid
ANOTHER beatdown from the Mule in the future

For most of these college bravos, you kinda just push them to the side and they fall down! Heck I can huff and puff and they fall before me like Autumn leaves.

Last time I did it was like ten days ago

I went to the bars, same old shit and the whole night this huge swole 'roided out Arabic looking guy with sunglasses on in the bar was just being obnoxious as fuck.

He was about my size, and I just did not like him. Nothing more, nothing less. So purposly I stand next to him while I order myself a coke and he's bumping into me and I just decided to lay down the law. I made  a hard huge fist,

....turned around right in his face and I said something like  "Those glasses are really gonna hurt!" 

He gives me this thuggish look like "WHA???


I headbutted him and just caught him with a clean shot right in his face. He went down like a sack of shyt. He got up, we exchanged, I didn't take any damage except a spot under my left eye, and he goes down again,,, the bouncers jump in, bouncers bought my story cause it's me vs a drunk Arabic dude with sunglasses. And I  am the Mule and they couldn't metaphorically pucker up any faster for my glutes.

I was like ,  "I am the KING of TOWN, this is not bad at all." Plus it has the sloots ALL OVER ME, "It's good to be the king!"

The next drunk dude I knocked out, I hit so hard, I had to swing around middle of the next week, to make sure I turned him on  his side and make sure he didn't swallow his tongue. 

Eventually you're going to hit a guy who can handle himself or has his mates that could handle you easily

Him: "Shit son, I eat punks like you for breakfast!"
Me: *GULP!!!!!!!!!!*

Knuckle Sandwich For Mule, order up for MULE!

Mule plays Astronomer, AGAIN!

. There is always someone better than you at anything, so you gonna get wrecked soon

Yes it is true, sometimes Mule ends up in a back alley dumpster, seeing constellations and tweety birds circling his head.  You can't win 'em all, but I DAMN sure win MOST OF THEM.  Nothing like walking into the law officers with a shiner and a fat lip.  They know better than to ask. The running joke is of course:  "You should see the OPPOSING counsel!"

"Hold all my calls!"

 True Story. In the last few months it's really become my favorite thing to do.  Beating up douchebags, and hurling them in the trash.   I know , I know its a horrible thing to do but it is a form of stress relief... as well as a public service. and I really try to pick out obnoxious douchebags. 

Homo douchebagius

Plus it gets me some high quality horned up college sloots.  Don't believe the Oprah crap about how women hate violence, and how peaceful shit would be if women ruled the world.  If women ruled the world, we would all be fighting each other like gladiators for pussy. Well even MORE than we do now. Because it would all be hoez before bros in that universe!

"Are you sloots, not entertained?"

 Ask me anything. I probably pulled this shit at least 10 times in the last six weeks.  It's really simple if you are sober. You'd be suprised how easy it is There is a certain satisfaction of beating up some drunk obnoxious guy. To see his eyes spinning in his head like the tiles on a one arm bandit, and when it lands on its final position, blood and teeth fragments are discharged from the douche's mouth, and I am collecting chits from all the pussy in the joint. Well somebody's gotta take care of the loud mouth douche bags and keep the sloots of Boulder satisfied!  Why not Mule?

Thursday, November 12, 2015

Anger Management: A Tyrone Adventure

This is the 100th post since relaunch of Blog in 2011.
Over 52,000 views since then,over 8700 views in last 30 days! 

by Mule and Stefan Kane

"I'm Tyrone: I'm here to fuck your wife...
fuck your girls...fuck your life...

I have known Tyrone since High School.  He was one of the posse that came to surround Mr. B, and was probably Mrs. Warren’s favorite High School jock. (See  KICKED BY A MULE).   Even back then he had a temper.  His nickname was “Powder Keg”.  Some really bad things happened to him growing up, and he had some incidents with the Klan and the police even as a teen.   This gave him a hard edge and a hair trigger.

I am perhaps his oldest friend, and even he and I get into it sometimes.  We had our tussles since High School, but there was always an element to kidding around to it.  Not so a lot of the kids.   There was a constant parade of students with black eyes, fat lips and Tyrone’s knuckle marks headed to the school nurse.  But Football was GOD, back at BF Christian, and Tyrone got a pass.  You should have seen the knees knocking every time he passed some geek in the hall, and even most of the jocks were terrified of that “crazy mutha fucka Tyrone.”  You should have also seen the girls and female staff go wet in his presence.  Nobody’s girlfriend or wife was “safe” around Tyrone.  He was the cuckolding king and we used to joke about this student, or that adult wearing “the horns of Tyrone”.  He didn’t mess with anyone’s girl in our Football posse: Bros before hoez-after all-Bros before hoez.

When I went off to DOOK, Tyrone stayed in Louisiana and went to Grambling State on a football scholarship.  He lost the scholarship Junior year because of a brawl with teammates, and dropped out not long afterwards because of finances, and for having been caught in flagrante delicto with a Dean’s wife.  He later was able to finish his degree through Phoenix University online.  Still Tyrone is not doing so badly for himself, he always has some Sugah Mommas taking care of him, rich white women with a taste for the Jungle Fever.  Cuckolding whitie and being flush with gifts and cash paid for unwittingly by a honky cuckold through the agency of a hot wife, is what Tyrone likes to call his REPARATIONS.  Fucking is clearly Tyrone’s number one hobby, but brawling is a close number two.  Having been the recipient of both his fists and his longdick styling, I can assure you he is excellent at both.

It wasn’t until relatively recently that I personally got into a real beatdown style fight with “Powder keg” Tyrone.  We were both back in Louisiana for a short visit.  We were on the beach enjoying some crawdad’s at Beau’s when we got into some ridiculous argument over whose ganny made the best gumbo…and he was all in my face calling me an ignorant cracker, and I think in the heat of the “discussion”, the N word kind of slipped out and not in the you my nigga, brotherly sort of way.  The crazy switch got flipped in Tyrone and he told me he was going to beat my cracker ass into next week.   We trotted down to a secluded area of beach, and what came next is described in detail in MULE AND TYRONE

The next day we flew back home on separate flights, and Tyrone happened to sit next to Jamal on a connector and they struck up a friendship, as well as a steamy affair.  Tyrone was one of those hard core, straight as an arrow alpha pussy hounds, but after getting sodomized by the Mule, and then meeting Jamal he found that he slid down the Kinsey scale when in the presence of either one of us from then on.

Jamal was the greatest thing to happen to Tyrone, he really knew how to calm Tyrone the fuck down, and the incidents of explosive violence largely vanished.   He was cool as a cucumber after he made me his bitch in the COCK CONTEST ROUND TWO: DICK TO DICK  This moment of triumph became ironically his undoing as Jamal began spending less and less time with Tyrone, and more and more time with me.

Powder Keg” was back to his normal short fuse in short order after that.  This was evident a couple of months ago, when Jamal and I were hanging out at Tyrone’s pad watching sports center, Jamal squeezed in close between two old friends turned rivals.   An argument broke out between us over some pointless point of football, and Tyrone and I were pecs to pecs screaming at one another.  Jamal tried to play peace maker, but in a time shorter than Tim Tebow’s career with the Eagles, we were thrashing about smashing furniture as we brawled.  Tyrone’s demons must have welled up all at once, because he seemed way stronger than he normally was, and his punches much more deadly.  I woke up across town in Jamal’s apartment with an ice cold steak over my eye and aches all over my body.  However Jamal was an adept nurse, and it was not long before my mind was no longer on Tyrone and what went down.  Note to self: Getting your ass kicked is not so bad if Jamal is around to assuage the pain.

So a few weeks ago, Jamal had cancelled our special evening together at the last minute to deal with some crisis with Tyrone.  I had to resort to alternative arrangements as I was horned up and ready to go.  Thus I was a bit surprised when Jamal burst into my Condo without knocking.   Jamal was also a bit surprised when he surveyed the room.  Not of course by the two big breasted sloots on the floor who clearly had been fucked into exhaustion and were in a state of slumber on the floor.  It was the scented candles about the place, the pizza box from Boulder Organic Pizzeria marked VEGETARIAN DELIGHT and me on the couch on top of a splayed leg Blake as I was snapping my dong deep into the Ginger.  


Yeah I confess I had tapped Blake about a dozen times since the fight described in To the Victor Belongs the Spoils [linlk]- Blake was on my emergency booty call list.  The qualifications for being on my emergency booty call (EBC) list are:

-You are in love with MULE with an infatuation that means you will drop any and all plans to come over when called at the last minute.

-Not a stage 5 clinger

-Good looking

-A great fuck

Blake and these two sloots got big black checks in all of the categories.  Given that I was missing out on Jamal, I knew I had to call all three.  They were not necessarily folks you wanted to be seen out and about with, and I STILL thought Blake was annoying as fuck, but it is best not to get emotionally attached, especially to those on the emergency booty call list, or they might, given their propensity to be drawing hearts with the name Mule in the center, start be getting ideas ABOVE their EBC station.  I looked over at Jamal, his eyebrow raised, and I turned a scarlet to match the hair of Blake.  Still Blake was a power-bottom and an incredible fuck, and I wasn't finished with him, and more to the point, he wasn't finished with me.  Once I was fucking Blake, he was in the driver seat of that rollercoaster and while I was pitching, it was the redheaded catcher who was calling ALL THE PLAYS as long as we were fucking. The Ginger reached up with both strong arms around my shoulders and pulled me back down on him pleading: “Don’t stop Mule, don’t stop” and I went back to humping Gingerale until I bust a nut inside him.  Jamal meanwhile scored a snack in my fridge.

But wait, I am getting WAY ahead of myself, let us take the remote and scoot the play back a bit.  It all starts with this big bad bubba at our gym, Jeff.  Or more properly Jefferson Davis Attwood III.  Jeff was one of those League of the South, neo-confederate clowns.  A racist redneck fireman from the armpit of Mississippi who had drifted out of the cesspool of that state to infect the great state of Colorado.  

Jeff was also magnificently jacked and absolutely drop dead gorgeous, the kind of guy that when he is working out, the other male patrons are popping huge boners and find themselves taking really cold showers after the workout. Yes he is EVEN more handsome than your Mule, o.k. A LOT more handsome, although I still got him WAY beat on muscle.  For a right wing, racist, bubba, shithead he can be pretty cool sometimes, so yeah he spotted me a few times at the gym and yeah he sucked my cock in the steam room once, or twice or three, yeah he wing-manned me at some bars sloot hunting a few times, but don’t be going to the guilt by association bullshit…that doesn’t make me a racist too.

The Neo-confederate nonsense was not the only thing Jeff was stupid about.  Jeff was stupid to pick a fight with TYRONE. “Get your black ass out of this station, I need to use it.” –the bubba drawled in his best Mississippi, when Tyrone paused in a set.

Say what, cracker?” growled Tyrone.

Say what, cracker?

I said move your lazy nigger ass, there are WHITE men waiting to use this lat pulldown machine. Isn’t there a colored crackhead gym down in the ‘hood’ you can use?”—Bubba Jeff sneered.

Bubba Jeff

You sure are a pretty one, cracker.  ‘Fraid that all abou’ to change peckerwood.  I am going to have to aks you to step outside so I can whup your pasty li’l ass.  I gonna fuck you up so badly, your own mother won’t be able to identify yo body!  Unless you chicken shit as well as being a dumbass!”-returned Tyrone

I am not afraid of no uppity niggah, Why don’t you shuffle or tap dance or whatever out back and I will teach you some manners and respect for yah bettahs.” Challenged Jeff. He cracked his knuckles and his neck in a display clearly meant to intimidate.  He did not know Tyrone.

They took the dispute outside.  As the Bubba was raising his fists up into a fighter’s stance, Tyrone threw a lightning fast right hook out of nowhere and it smashed into Jeff’s face with a sickening thud.

Jeff was stunned by the concussive impact, and Tyrone closed in for several devastating body shots, that plowed into the Bubba’s carefully constructed cobblestone abs like a jackhammer.  Fueled by pent up anger years in the making, Tyrone was like a demon, and his punches irresistible.

Then Tyrone began speedbagging Jeff’s head.

Jeff slumped to his knees, punch drunk. He had received a severe can of whup ass, and hadn’t managed to even throw a punch.

M.m.m.Mercy P.p.p.please” he managed to stammer over cacophony of ringing bells in his ears.

You got to beg your new black Massa, better than that cracker barrel.”

Please Massa T, don’t hurt me no more, I beg of you.  You da man Massa, you da man.”  offered the sobbing, chastened Bubba.

Kiss my size 15 boots, slave.” Demanded Tyrone, and Jeff obediently complied.

You got some of your blood on mah boots, lick it off, slave and put a shine on mah combats” –and again Jeff obeyed, giving Tyrone’s boots a tongue shine.

Then Tyrone pulled out his big black cock and said to Jeff.  “You know what to do, slave.  Get to work, and if I feel any teeth, I gonna knock ‘em all out!”

Jeff got to work on Tyrone’s monstrous cock, slurping and sucking like a Hoover.  He was even deep throating Tyrone’s enormous donger, and showing off mad cocksucking skills.  Tyrone felt his anger slipping away as pleasure flooded his brain under the oral ministrations of Jeff.   But Tyrone wouldn’t let his anger completely go and pulled out, creaming all over Jeff’s face.  Then with another sledgehammer punch and a cry of “Light’s out cracker!”  He coldcocked the racist asshole.  He then proceeded to urinate all over the slumbering wreckage.

A few days later, still sporting a shiner, Jeff caught me in the sauna.

What the fuck, happened to you?” I said, although I knew what had happened and was just curious as to what kind of story he was going to give.

He naturally gave some lame ass story about getting injured while fighting a major fire, and saving children, puppies and kittens or some such shit.

Stroking my pecs and then sucking on my nips, he alternately inquired if I knew Tyrone’s schedule in terms of when he normally liked to come to the gym.  Now we may be somewhat rivals now, but Tyrone is a bro, so I not gonna narc on him.  Besides I suspected the reason he wanted the information was that Jeff was now smitten with Tyrone, and even a bit battered up, he was still drop dead gorgeous.  Plus, I didn’t want to lose such a beauty I couldn’t abide him leaving Mule orbit, and entering that of Tyrone.  It was bad enough Tyrone was sniffing around my Ginger snap, Blake.  It was only a matter of time before he had MY redheaded fuckfriend, longdickstyle, and now Bubba Jeff? Yeah, I am competitive that way!  

Then Jeff moved in on my cock and as Jeff really knew his business, I was soon disclosing everything I knew about Tyrone, hell at that point I would have disclosed State secrets, if I knew any.  The CIA should really recruit guys like Jeff.  Fuck waterboarding, what Jeff can do with his lips, throat and tongue are damn more effective.

Bubba Jeff could have had me divulging state secrets!

Turns out Jeff wanted the information to AVOID Tyrone.  The chastening had not stuck, and the arrogant racist was back waving his verbal stars and bars, he just didn’t want to get his ass kicked for doing it.  So in this illusion of safety, he began to talk shit about Tyrone.  I wasn’t there so I don’t know all that was said, but one of Tyrone’s jock-sniffers overheard it, and reported it back to his master.  Tyrone like to have a “plantation” of white slaves, and he certainly held a goodly number in thrall to him.  It is amazing the power a big black cock and a body of solid black muscle can wield in terms of placing AFCs under a spell.

Jeff came out wearing a near see through mesh football jersey and  a pair of jorts, ending in cowboy boots: classicly classless.  He had an oversized gym bag slung over his left shoulder, and as he moved around a minivan to reach his confederate bedecked Dodge Silverado, he noticed Tyrone leading up against his vehicle, tooth pick dangling menacingly from his mouth.

Jeff dropped the bag and pulled up into a fighter’s stance and said:  “You ain’t gonna sucker punch me this time, niggah!”

Tyrone laughed.  “Not a sucker punch just because your reflexes, are slower than molasses. I been hearin’ how my slave boy Jeff has been talking shit about his new massa T, and I jus’ gonna have to rectify your attitude, son!

Jeff scored first blood this time, clipping Tyrone with a right hook that had him spitting blood, and giving a crimson tinged smile as he returned fire with a series of formidable gut, gut gut jabs followed by a hard uppercut to Jeff’s glass jaw, that had him stumbling back.  It went this way for a while, with Jeff managing to get one or two solid punches in for every five-seven punch combos Tyrone was able to employ.

Eventually Jeff’s connecting punches became few and far between, while Tyrone pummeled him relentlessly and without pity. Eventually Tyrone has Jeff staggering on wobbly legs.

Tyrone slammed the rubber legged Bubba Jeff against and over the fixed side wall with his powerfully muscled left arm, banging Bubba’s head repeatedly against the brand new trunk leaving deep dents in its shiny finish.

Tyrone drove his right clenched fist into Jeff's left pec. Connecting on the target of Jeff’s large dark nipple peeking through the mesh football jersey. Again and again “Powder Keg” hit Jeff’s stretched pec on and around the nipple. Tyrone reached back, his arm stretched back as far as it could for maximum wind up, and he power punched the neo-confederates tit again and again as he slammed Jeff's head against the side wall of the bed: head slam, pec punch…head slam, pec punch...head slam, pec punch!

 Head slam, pec punch…

 Head slam, pec punch…

 Head slam, pec punch…

Mississippi-J screamed with each blow, the area around his nipple becoming redder and redder and more afire with the heat of pain with each devastating blow.

Tyrone changed sides and started to drive his powerful fist into the right side of Jeff's muscular chest.  While he pressed down on Bubba’s head with a powerful pinning forearm. Each blow reverberated in Jeff’s chest cavity. Bubba groaned with each connection unable to free himself from his confinement.

Tyrone moved to the front of the body against the truck, using his forearm to pressure Jeff’s head back, he again forced Jeff’s body to stretch back arching his body in complete submission across the bed’s sidewall.  In this position Tyrone pounded more blows to Jeff’s sternum each one driving hard into the bony area between Bubba’s granite pectoral muscles.

After twenty blows to Jeff’s sternum, Tyrone again smashed and smashed his fist into Mississippi’s large nipples. Each blow making a satisfying dull thud. Jeff groaned with each impact. Tyrone opened his hand and slapped Jeff massive pecs.

Each whack making the body redder and the man more helpless. His chest was afire with pain. He had no energy left and was defenseless as Tyrone continued to beat his upper body relentlessly. The waves of pain mingled with hot ecstasy as Jeff almost began to enjoy his own destruction at the all-powerful hands of the superior Tyrone.

Tyrone brought back his right fist for a powerful wind up and connected with a distinct crack against Jeff’s head for a coup de grace that thoroughly cleaned Bubba’s clock.

Tyrone laid the unconscious Jeff out on the bed of the truck and stripped him naked so he could thoroughly admire his handwork of welts and bruises.  Beaten up as he was, Jeff still exuded a serene beauty as he slumbered and instinctively, Tyrone found himself gently and stroking the muscled Mississippian.  Then not sure what came over him, Tyrone leaded over and kissed Jeff on the lips, before covering him with a tarp.

He went through the clothes, pulled out Jeff’s wallet and keys, and tossed the rest in the trash.

He then swung around Jeff’s digs to see if he could score some more “reparations”.  It was a really nice house, a veritable manse up in University Hill with a large well-tended yard.  They must pay firemen around here MUCH more than he thought, or old cracker Jeff came from some money.  He spotted this beautiful blond bombshell doing some gardening in the front, and he knew just what “reparations” he was going to claim from Bubba Jeff—Mrs. Bubba Jeff!  He approached the woman, all sweet and polite, and told her he found this wallet which seemed to correspond to this address.  He handed over the wallet flush with credit cards and cash to Mrs. Bubba, which immediately disarmed her natural tendency to fear this big, black, muscular stranger, who looked like he had been in a fight.  When Mrs. Bubba asked if he had been in an accident, he shook his head, and said:

Nah, I do some MMA, and some sparring practice just got a bit…um… exuberant.“ –flashing a charismatic smile.   Exuberant was a Mule word Tyrone had picked up, and he was using it every chance he got.

 Mrs. Bubba was now gushing over Tyrone.  “Those need to be looked at, why don’t you come in, I have all the first aid supplies, that we need.”

 Tyrone flashed another smile:  “Well sure enough ma’am that is mighty kind of you, I will gladly take you up on your generous offer.”  He followed her into the house, his horse cock already beginning to swell.  Somewhere across town in the emergency room, Jeff was beginning to sprout the “horns of Tyrell” from his battered and soon to be cuckolded head.

"I'm TYRONE and I WILL fuck your wife!"

Missus Bubba…whose name Tyrone learned was Darlene, led Tyrone into the master bedroom and on to the master bath…to the medicine cabinet and drawers that contained the ointments, salves and antiseptics, and dressings she would need to take care of his wounds.  Tyrone stripped off his shirt, to make it easier for her, displaying to full effect his broad muscular shoulders, chest covered with deep plush wall-to-wall muscles, and arms that fielded artillery that popped and bulged with a BOOM!.  Darlene’s husband was jacked… but nothing like this.  Then Tyrone dropped his sweatpants and jock so she could “minister to his legs” revealing a long thick black erect cock like something out of a porn movie.  It made Jeff look positively small by comparison.  When Darlene eyes drunk in Tyrone’s Priapan magnificence, and that was all she wrote.  Tyrone fucked her in the shower, master bedroom, kitchen, heck they did it in EVERY ROOM of the house.

Longdick style!

Tyrone showered and dressed, more than satisfied with the “reparations” he had collected that day, and promising Darlene he would return, and he did again, and again, banging her every day her husband was at the firehouse, leaving the Darlene alone in that big well-appointed house.

Apparently Bubba Jeff caught on to the fact that he was being cuckolded, because he dropped some definite hints to me when he caught me aside when I was over at the firehouse playing some poker and smoking cigars at the firehouse.  Each of us, including Jeff, with a sloot on a knee.  I just feigned ignorance, although I knew Tyrone had banged Darlene, and certain as hell didn’t mentioned that I had banged her a few times in the past myself.  Jeff might be awfully purty, but he sure as hell neglected the needs of his trophy wife Darlene, and her needs were a big gaping hole that needed to be filled with some Mule dick and some Tyrone’s longdick styling.  Just saying!

Anyway it was Tyrone who found himself waylaid one day after a gym session.  Jeff brought help with him this time.  Two jacked cops dressed in police T’s and shorts.  Mike and Sam.  I had met them through Jeff a couple of times.  Nice enough guys I guess, if you were white.  They shared Jeff’s negative attitudes towards those of darker complexion.  They were not nearly as good at hoovering as Jeff, from mah personal experience.  Boulder’s finest, am I right?

 Although we were sort of rivals now, had I been there,  I would of thrown in with Tyrone without hesitation, but Tyrone had to face the Jeff and his crew ALONE.  Mike explained to Tyrone that this was “private business” not “police business, and “there would be no retaliation with respect to resisting, in fact it would make the beatdown they were going to inflict on Tyrone, that much more fun.  This was bareknuckle brawling, no weapons, no knives, brass knuckles, tasers, mace, billy clubs, etc.”

This was music to Tyrone’s ears.  He looked over his opponents, like Wesley Snipes’s Simon Phoenix surveying the cops sent to arrest him in Demolition Man.  Tyrone’s eyes narrowed into a MDK glare.

He set out to eliminate the weakest link, and flanked the line of scrimmage, coming at Mississippi Jeff from the side.  He slugged him with such a powerful punch that Jeff just stood there swaying back and forth on his legs, hands still in fighter stance, a retarded look on his face as his brains were temporarily scrambled. Then maneuvering so that Jeff was between Sam and himself he moved to take down the charging Mike in an OlĂ© bullfighter sidestep, kneeing Mike in the groin and giving him a forearm bash to the back of the head with such a velocity that it sent Mike sprawling into the pavement with a thunderous impact like he was a baseball player diving for home for a winning run.

 He turned to face Sam now maneuvering around Jeff and met him with a rapid fire series of punches to the gut, that the cop sank stunned to his knees.  Tyrone knew that as long as he could keep the brawl as a series of three separate engagements, dividing and conquering, he had this.

The cops used to relying on even more numbers and gear, were simply not prepared for the whirlwind tearing through them like a tornado through an Oklahoma trailer park.

To quote Demolition Man:

We’re Police officers we’re not trained to handle this level of violence.

 First he finished off Bubba Jeff with a 5 punch combo:

Jab, Jab to the head to keep him wobbly

Thrust....thrust: Two slamming crater causing guided missiles to the gut

Finishing him off with a right cross bell ringer to the jaw

BUBBA JEFF was DONE for this fight!

Sam was staggering to his feet at this point, so Tyrone turned on him with a wicked grin. 

Sam was done with three punches thrown by Tyrone: 

Left Jab to head!

Right Uppercut to gut!

Left Hook brain scrambler!

SAM was now out of the fight!

Now all that was left standing between Tyrone and total victory was Mike., the largest of the three opponents. 

Right Cross forehead smash!

Left Hook to jaw: teeth loosener!

Right Cross skull rattler to Mike's cleft chin!

Then he played heavy bag with Mike's torso for awhile, with Mike managing to toss out some token resistance with a few connecting punches. 

Cross Left Uppercut  to chest destroyer!
Air knocked out of Mike's lungs!


Right Cross power-punch to Mike's head!

MIKE is out cold!

Now Tyrone felt it was time to give these racist cops some LONGDICK STYLE up their sweet virgin asses.  Claiming anal cherries from racist cops was something Tyrone had been up to since he was 17 when he took the ass of a Louisiana sheriff. Then he would deal with the fireman Bubba Jeff.  His big black battering ram would have the three of them walking funny for at least a week!

As Tyrone finished sodomizing first Mike, and then Sam, he administered a jackhammer coup de grace punch to each of them as soon as he pulled his battering ram out of their anus, until with Mike and Sam lying unconscious before him in peaceful slumbering repose, he moved finally on to Jeff having him clean off his schlong of ‘cop stank’ before sodomizing Jeff and then knocking him into the dreamlands with his own jackhammer punch. “Sweet dreams, crackers” he said to the insentient trio before him.

Sweet dreams, crackers

Tyrone stripped the two cops naked, and hung their bloody unconscious carcasses, each by their own handcuffs from the fence, their wreckage placed in glorious display Tyrone spunk leaking from their rectums.  Then with a marker he wrote across both of their chests:  #BlackLivesMatter.   Then he slung the unconscious Jeff like a sack of potatoes, and carried him over to his (Tyrone’s) pimped out vehicle.   Then he drove over to Bubba’s house, so the fool could wake up to Tyrone humping his wife.

So now we are back to the point where Jamal came rushing in on Blake and I.

When I was finished with the Ginger, Jamal turned on Fox News.   They were babbling about a War on Cops, and how a Militant Gang of thirty “thugs” had ambushed a couple of Boulder cops, beaten them so badly they had to be hospitalized and chanted “Bash the Bacon!” “Make the Piggies squeal”, and “Payback for Piggies”.  The thing was going viral!

Story of gang of militant blacks jump and hospitalize two cops chanting black lives matter, and make the pigs squeal.  Featured on O’Reilly factor and some conservative blogs, all over the news.
Jamal was sure Tyrone was going to face some payback, but it didn’t happen that way.  Mike and Sam were not going to admit they had been taken down by one guy, and had in fact fallen under the spell of Tyrone and had joined the ranks of his devoted Fetch-n-carries.   Ever since they had gotten a dose of the longdick styling of Tyrone at that fight in the gym, they were hungering for more, offering their mouths and their anuses whenever he snapped his big black fingers.  This was Tyrone’s personal efforts in the cause of black justice at the hands of the police, and Mike and Sam were not the only members of Boulder’s Finest now circling in orbit around Tyrone.

Postgame   (Analysis and Highlights)

Payback’s a bitch.  It is not a good idea to rile Tyrone as he will Fuck your wife, fuck your side chicks, and fuck your life! Tyrone was not done with Jeff.  He moved in lock, stock and barrel into Bubba’s house, evicting Jeff from the master bedroom, which he enjoyed with Darlene.   Jeff initially slept in the study, and eventually came to be chained up naked in a cage sleeping on a doggie bed, whenever he was not on shift at the firehouse.  His firehouse buds started asking inconvenient questions about why the usual hospitable Jeff no longer invited them around to his crib.  Tyrone dropped by the firehouse on the various shifts until all of the firefighters had fed sumptuously on his gargantuan phallus and had become completely addicted to that intoxicating narcotic.  The firehouse thus became a complete Tyrone “plantation.”

Tyrone also took over Jeff’s regular side chicks, and he was not allowed any more random.  The only sexual experience he was henceforth allowed was hooverin’ Tyrone whenever his “Massa T” so required. Taking the horsewhip to slave Jeff, whenever he though some semblance of manhood was starting to creep back.   Jeff went from naked and afraid, to thoroughly and devotedly in love with Tyrone, it was the worst case of Stockholm syndrome I had ever heard of.  Payback is a bitch, I know but the reduction of an alpha male to such a degraded state made me feel some sympathy for Jeff.   So I don’t run by Tyrone’s new digs anymore, we still hang out, play poker, watch sports, and occasionally brawl a bit and fuck a bit, but never at Tyrone’s new place (and yes slave Jeff deeded the place over to Tyrone).  I guess it is all for the best, I do miss Jeff’s hooverin’ at the gym, but Jeff, Darlene and Tyrone have never been happier than they are with the new arrangements. I have to say Darlene has a wonderful influence on Tyrone, in all the years I have known him, and he has never been so calm, cool and collected.

-Tyrone has run in with racist Jeff in gym
-Tyrone gives Jeff his first drubbing in a lopsided beatdown
-Jeff trash talks Tyrone, who hears about it and gets mad
-Tyrone opens up another can of whup ass on Jeff, who puts up more of a fight this time
-Tyrone cuckolds Jeff
-Jeff shows up with two cop buddies to teach Jeff a lesson
-It is Jeff and the Cops who get taught the lesson

-Two cops become Tyrone’s jock-sniffers, and Jeff becomes a cuckolded slave

Bubba Jeff Today!