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Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Brawl in Boulder

Brawl in Boulder  --  by Mule with the help of S Kane
S Kane


When I moved to Boulder.  I got a great deal on a Condo.  It was a bank repo.  About a week after I moved in, I spot this smoking hot blonde chick that conveniently lives two doors down. When I say hot, I mean she was fine by MULE STANDARDS, so an eleven on the charts of you mere mortals.  She is in her early twenties, with 44DD titties mounted on a tight fucking frame. The kind of breasts that could suckle an entire orphanage. She was as stunning from the back as she was the front, especially when she bent down to pick up some mail she had dropped.  You could bounce quarters off her ass, large enough that I could palm them in my giant hands, not the flat boards most of the white chicks sport.  As soon as I see her I know I got to smash that…and since I am the Mule, you are talking about a fait accompli!

the jorts
So I wait a while, then pry on an old pair of Daisy Duke style cut-off jorts. old pair of Daisy Duke style cut-off jorts. The pair was foreskin  tight , and short enough to show off an insane amount of ass cleavage. Basically I must have violated a number of city ordinances when I stepped outside.  Besides the jorts, I was wearing no shoes and no shirt, but I was such a vision, that I was pretty well GUARANTEED service. Imagine what the neighbors peeking through their curtains would see. I am a commanding 6'3'' tall with an impressive 260 lbs. of lean, solid muscles. I have a v-shaped taper directing the eye down past my 52 inch chest, across thick speed bump abs, past my narrow 33” waist toward my crotch.  Eyes would rest there for a time, because in those shorts left is little to the imagination.

As a public service, I gave any neighbors a free gun show of a double-bi
flex -popping those swole nearly 20” artillery pieces, so that eyes would be popping out of their sockets in the neighboring condos. You got to establish your dominance early when you move into a neighborhood.   The cut off the shorts provided a clear view of my 28” quads, chiseled into those teardrops that bitches unfailingly lose their minds over… I turn and do a reverse double-bi, this time showing off my undulating lats that would merit choppy sea warnings, and a pair of balloon bubble glutes, that I am extremely and deservedly proud of.

So on the flimsy pretext that I was doing laundry and ran out of soap; I head on over with an empty whey protein cup and ring the bell, ready to use the "Hey I’m your new neighbor and I was wondering...."-routine.  Actually, Home Depot wasn't even bringing the washer and dryer until the next day, but the bitch didn't know that and once she got a good look at me, she wouldn’t care. So she answers the door, takes one look at me, and starts frothing at the gash. She had fallen fast and hard!!!  I sniffed deeply and could smell her pussy getting wetter than someone standing under Niagara Falls.  She's gushes "OMG it’s like you’re photoshopped"…and I know I am in like Flynn.

I “humbly” scuff my right knuckles over my bouncing pecs and seeing that my laundry ruse is completely unnecessary, I respond "Thanks, babe. Nice tits. Look I just moved in two doors down, and you’re hot, and I’m hot, so want to fuck?"  Guys like you would get slapped so hard with a line like that, that your face would be wobbling like Jell-O for a few minutes-but The Mule with all these muscular assets can AFFORD to be more direct.

She scanned my muscular frame hungrily and unconsciously she reached out with her hands and ran her fingers down the chiseled contours, exploring every cut, ridge and crevice of my physique like she was a blind woman reading braille. Across my muscular pecs her fingers roamed, like she had to measure the entire expanse with her fingertips. She squeezed my heavy pectorals like she was picking out melons at the market.  Hard to blame her, my pectoral muscles hang tantalizingly off my chest like thick beef steaks, striated and solid, that got her so aroused her knees seemed to buckle a little. Then, her fingers traveled along every valley and ridge of my rippling washboard abs until she had arrived at her final destination.

 She looked down at the bulge in my cut offs that looked like I was shoplifting a banana and two oranges from the fruit stand and she squeaks: "sure, come on in, muscles”. She tried to get her hands around my muscular arm to escort me in, but of course she couldn’t get them around so she just kind of hung on to the edge. I let my biceps bulge beneath her hand and her already dilated pupils widened into saucers. She was salivating and licking her lips like Pavlov’s Dog after hearing the bell, and it wouldn’t be long before her bells were all chiming like a church tower at Easter  Turns out she was just as smoking hot with her clothes off, which were coming off as soon as we hit the foyer  Both of us were horny as rabbits, at this point hotter than two mice humpin’ in a wool sock so we commenced with our humpin’ before we even got to the bedroom, and continuing from the foyer, across the living room, kitchen and finally the bedroom. Her magnificent tits slapping against my perfect pecs, and our loins merging in thrusts of glory.    
I was surprised to discover that she has a much looser pussy than I am used to but my engorged penis is thick as a bottle as well as long in the shaft and I was still able to hit the sides.  I thought maybe she had a kid recently or something like that, but it turned out she just had a lot of big dicks up there before me,(Likely named something like Jamal and Tyrone)  Being stuffed with a huge dick (like over a period of months) actually will make a vagina looser than giving birth will. I have ruined many a pussy for the smaller dicked men that followed in my wake, so I know of what I speak. Anyway, I railed her with my donkey dick all night and hit it from every known angle, thrusting it in every hole known to man.

Turned out she liked bad boys with big muscles and big dicks; the badder and the bigger, the better. She was surprised when I told her I was a lawyer, she was more used to men whose only exposure to the law was as a defendant.   She has had more dicks squirting into her than a urinal and as she put it, and in her experience a big dick = poor.  Her philosophy held that the bigger the dick a guy has, the lazier he is.  Not that she ever needed any of her lovers to pick up the tab: she was a trust fund baby, her family owned a ladder factory in Utah. I shattered many of her expectations, such that I raised the bar for her forever more.

So given the Mule is the archetype of her heart’s desire, she was a freak for what the Mule had to offer and it wasn’t long before like so many women before her, she was head over heels smitten with THE MULE.  I was chill with that until I discovered she was a ticking time bomb.  My first sign that something was amiss with her mind was the dog.  She had this miserable little excuse for a dog.  It was some kind of miniature poodle that was more sewer rat than dog.  The thing was stupid as hell, and was not housebroken, Crazytown let that little furball shit all over her place and then would just leave it on the floor for a while. Little piles of shit everywhere.  Sometimes she would put a Kleenex over the shit rather than pick it up, so there would be like a dozen Kleenexes on the carpet each covering up some shit.  That should have been my signal to RUN!!!!  However it was really great sex, I mean really, REALLY great sex, and you couldn’t beat the convenience, so I soldiered on heedlessly.

Turned out she was crazy, not crazy in a zany, free spirited sort of way-THAT- I could handle.  No her crazy was horror movie style crazy, like she might turn into a stage 5 clinger and get all FATAL ATTRACTION on me because I liked some cute girl’s post on FB.  Once a gal hits stage 5 clinger, and the crazed chick is maniacally scrolling through your phone texts each night, that story only ends one way, with her cutting off your dick while you are sleeping yelling “If I can’t have you NOBODY CAN”, So as excellent and as convenient as the sex was-I am rather ATTACHED to my cock.  I decided to cool it down gently, because she lived so close and I didn’t want her blowing a gasket from Mule withdrawal symptoms.  We went to friends with benefits quickly, then I completely friend-zoned her, and eventually I went to no contact.

I heard that a few months after I weaned her from my cock, she was seeing this dude Mike Z.  I hadn't ever met the dude, but I had heard about him.  He had got a free ride to play on the Offensive line at CU.  He had tons of natural talent and god tier genetics (sounds like the Mule, eh?), but, unlike the Mule, he was lazy as fuck.  He ended up quitting the team after six weeks because it was just “too hard” for him to get to practice.   He partied every night, put on like a freshman 30, and flunked out at the end of his first semester.  I hadn't heard about or thought about him until like a year later when I got a text from a lifting buddy that some dude named Mike Z. had broken my powerlifting record at one of the local gyms.  My record had stood for 2 years with a

620 Squat
455 Bench
715 Deadlift
1790 total
Which at a bodyweight of 260 made for a Wilks coefficient of 466.11 Points.   This Mike Z. kid did 620/490/755 for a total of 1865 at a bodyweight of 315 so a Wilks of 471.28.  I have to confess to you that it felt really bad man to see someone else’s name but MINE, go on that plaque, and I felt like going all HEY KOOLAID through the wall it was hanging on., I swore that this non-Mule record COULD NOT STAND, and that was all that I knew about the dude that was now banging psycho-chic.
Mike Z showing his "freshman 30" and how he got it
That would have been the end of the story, except a few months after I had finally banned my crazy neighbor from my dick, this record breaking schmuck moved in with her. Only reason I knew that he was there was due to a very old Harley that appeared in the parking area, and then mutual friends I had with my “Glenn Close” neighbor told me she was dating my lifting nemesis. I also heard from them that all this Mike did was sit on the couch all day: playing video games, drinking beer, and stuffing pizza and cheeseburgers down into his ever expanding gut.   He didn't work a real job, apparently he did a gay-for-pay web cam show for two hours on Friday nights and made a couple of hundred bucks just flexing.  You have to admire that sort of work ethic.   There was an occasional sighting of him at the gym, but he and I never truly crossed paths.  Those that did see him at the gym, all said the same thing: that the huge fucker was incredibly strong and should compete in Power Lifting, but that he was lazy and unmotivated.

Fast forward to the long holiday weekend.  I was going to be off on Monday, so I ended up getting to the gym late on Friday.  Only to find to my chagrin that they were closing early that night.   So I had a mere 60 minutes to:

Squat 585lbs
A few sets of curls of 100lb dumbbells
shoulder press 120`s
dumbbell bench with 150`s

And then jerk-off my lifting boner and leave the gym

They usually let me stay late but the closer dude had something he had to do after work so I decided there was no way around it, The Mule NEEDED to get a key to the gym so I could stay late that night, and any other night I fucking needed it.  Well at first I tried the peaceable way, I politely asked the manager dude and he was an asshole about it.  Guess it was going to be the MULE way, a lot less peaceable and a whole lot more fun.  So I offered to wrestle him for one.  He had been on my case about using calk to dead lift, so we put a bet together quick.  I had no intention of being beat by this chump, so I was easy on granting his side of the terms.

Since the closer dude had left, the manager and I had the place to ourselves and got right to it.   The manager teaches the kickboxing, class but since that’s all women and biznASS men I figure he don't really know shit.  Turns out he was a little tougher than I was figuring on... but the Mule likes a challenge, and to make a long story short- I still got my key.   He mostly used his kicks on my big legs to slow me down... tried to dead leg me figuring once he had my legs stiff and cramped up then
Gym Manager
he would be able to finish me. I visibly saw him wince when his foot connected with my iron-sinewed 18” calves and 28“ quads. So we traded pain.  My legs were aching, so I guess it was a good game plan… up until an internal voice hollered FINISH HIM!  I introduced his skull to my tibia with an arm bash and he staggered back a bit and then fell forward….. TIMBER, kissing the padded floor mats before he came to and gave his formal surrender.  It has been nice having that key.

Driving home my legs were throwing fits like I had done DOUBLE LEG DAY.  Still I had obtained my objective, and dominated an athletic male in the course of the my quest- so all In all a pretty sweet victory, and I recover pretty quickly... guess I get that from football... it’s like being in the equivalent of a car wreck on Saturday, but you’re back at practice on Monday.  Sure my legs were black and blue by the next morning and sore over the long weekend-but I BEAT the motherfucker, and that lasts longer than the pain. Like the expression goes, pain is temporary, glory is forever, and chicks think scars are cool.

I just went to my jeep in my tighty whites
I have to admit that I still not 100% by the Tuesday morning, after the holiday weekend.  I had to be in Denver for work. and I needed to get something off my lap top ... I was up early and since no one is up and no one can see the parking area I just went to my jeep in my tighty whites since I hadn't got dressed yet.. Was like 5 am and its only like 30 ft. from my door   It was early in the morning and I would be in the parking area in a flash.  Once there, the way the condos are set up only four units would look out at this parking area so unlikely I would be sending anyone into arrhythmia as I was bent over, my muscular ass hanging out the door.

I am virtually at my jeep when my neighbor’s door opens and out runs her miserable little almost-a-dog with this ox-the size of a mountain lumbering behind him.... oddly enough the Jolly Green was also in tighty whites.

I pull the standard bro play when something weird happens and give a nod and a grunted "sup?" and he gives the expected nod back… it deflects the awkwardness ‘cause obviously we didn’t expect, in our nearly naked states, to run into anyone else, much less each other. Obviously this is Mike Z and it clear he knows from my rep around the neighborhood, that he just encountered THE MULE.

We instinctively size each other up, as always happens when alphas encounter another alpha (and potential rival). He is obviously impressed by my chiseled as fuck body- and he is not the sort to be easily impressed by another guy.  I must confess I was also impressed, not by the quality of his physique but the quantity....I did gasp a “damn” at his gargantuan mass.  Mike is a legit 6'5 maybe 6'6" and 315 lbs. - just as billed. So while both of us are Titans, I stand like Thor, with a defined godly physique and he is a giant relying as much on his sheer mass, as on his muscle. Both of us filled our tighty whites in an impressive fashion.
6'6"  315 lbs

Mike Z  clad in his tighty whites
We were each set to go about our business when the fucking dog runs over to my grass area and shits on my grass right in front of my door. The giant seems oblivious. I clinched and unclenched both fists, THIS WILL NOT STAND!  “What the fuck?!??” - I bellow.   He glances towards what I am glaring at, gives me a greasy grin as if to say “Not my problem”, and I give him one more chance before I throw down:  "You gonna clean that shit up man...." and he replies with a smirk: "Nope.."

At this point I am turning green in HULK SMASH anger, my vascular muscles bulging and straining against my skin as I fume "That wasn't a question, you stupid Sasquatch!"

Now Mike by virtue of his size and bulk, had only faced empty challenges for years, and expected me like so many others before me, to stroll away in shame and humiliation. And fueled by the arrogance of such experience, he derisively snorted "You gonna make me?”

And he heard words he had not heard in many years: "I, sure as fuck, am..."

We square up to throw hands, this fight is now on, and nothing short of total submission will do.  Two giants circling each other, clad in nothing but our Hanes briefs.  The body goes into overdrive during the onset of a fight, adrenaline, norepinephrine, testosterone and a rush of endorphins create a state of excitement, arousal, and euphoria in the combatants. Both of our giant cocks swelled against our Hanes.  Still while Mike’s body geared up for battle, his pea-brain had not quite accepted this was all really happening. His face contorted into a mixture of concentration and surprise. Was I really going to challenge him?

He was clearly out of practice brawling because he telegraphed his rush and walked right into my famous five punch combo.  For those not familiar with this destructive whirlwind, it consists of a right hook to the jaw, a left jab to the jaw, a right thrust of my iron fist to the abs, and a wrecking ball left smash to the ribs followed by the coup de grace of a right uppercut. Nearly all who have encountered its full fury if they were still conscious, were striking their colors and hoisting the white flag from what prone position they landed in.

I encountered two things during my fiendish assault. My first surprise was when I hit him in the gut and my hand sunk through the blubber up to my wrist before connecting with what I had not foreseen, a muscular wall that felt like I was hitting armor plate.  Looking back, I should have expected with a 755 deadlift he was going to have some bricks under that fat layer

My second surprise was he was still conscious, and my fists were throbbing in pain.  He must have an iron jaw.

He gave his gorilla sized head a shake, cracked his thick football player neck, and rubbed his lantern jaw while he spat out some blood and gave me a red tinged smile.  "That was NICE...”- he said mockingly “but this is gonna be nicer... ‘Cuz it’s MY TURN. You get to sample MY strength as I beat you to a pulp... I easily weathered your five punch combo, now let you show you MINE- I am not going to bring you to your knees, I am going to fucking send you to the hospital.

He was playing with me like he was Muhammed Ali in the ring although he looked more like Joe Frazier, he was circling and feigning attacks as he landed insult after insult trying to work me up to a bestial rage so he could play me for a sucker and pound me like he was tenderizing steak. “Let me show you the power of a SUPERIOR male, just as I took your record, I am going to take every ounce of pride you possess” shuffle, feint, smile,” He was showing himself to be far more dexterous than I had imagined. "I’m not just going to defeat you... I am going to beat and humiliate the time I am finished you won’t feel worthy of using the Men’s bathroom!"

Mike put his hands up in the classic boxer stance as he bounced on his feet back and forth. He faked a few jabs then I rushed in to wipe that smug off his face, but this time it was he who was lying in wait and his big fist lasered in on my jaw like one of them smart bombs…. It hit my jaw like a sledge hammer on an anvil… and sounded like a gun shot when it landed.  I felt like my handsome head was gonna fly off my shoulders.

I heard him holler "ONE!!" over the bells ringing in my ears and star shaped flashes obscured my vision so it I could not see his big fist winding back. I was still seeing stars when I heard "TWO!!!!" and a blurry massive fist appeared suddenly before my face and there was another CRACKKK as my head flew to the side and my body with it, so I guess my head was still attached....

I tried to maneuver away from the punishment, but my sore legs from the fight with the gym manager came into play and I couldn’t move out the way in time, I felt like I was powerless to move and too stunned to defend myself with my arms, It was like I had become his personal punching bag, and was helpless before his rain of blows.

"THREE!!!!!!" and both my legs left the ground and I went flying following my head... only thing that stopped me from going into orbit was my back hit my jeep... I felt like my head was underwater and I really could not understand the torrent of taunts he unleashed along with the punches. My head was spinning and I could barely see his fist flying toward me like a high speed train as I managed to make out of the cacophony of warbling sound, his cry of FOUR!  Then came the sickening crash of the impact of his fist, and the blow resounded through my body from head to toe. I felt my legs start to give out from underneath me.

I was so punch drunk that I never heard him say the "FIVE" for the next punch, but instead I felt the blow and suddenly was going up in the air apparently headed for the Moon.  I realized I was suddenly jerked back and was finding my battered and semi-conscious body moving up and down, and it was only on the fifth iteration, that I realized in an impressive show of raw power, this gorilla was overhead pressing the wreckage of my 260 lb. muscular body.  From an altitude of nearly 10’ I heard "BOMBS AWAY" as I was body-slammed on the hood of my own jeep.  I hit that fucker so hard my body left an impression on my hood and I later ended up getting the hood replaced after making up some bullshit story for the insurance company.  The slam stunned me, but I still vaguely realized the big lug was wedging my feet at the windshield wipers and had my torso hanging limply down in front the grill.  I knew the contorted state well from inflicting it on a number of adversaries, I was in a fucking "tree of woe" hanging upside down on the grill of my jeep.

I had regained enough of my senses to start and do a hanging sit up to get out of the tree of woe, but the giant ape was having none of it, and he put his left paw forcibly into the center of my chest and stopped me....Mike then took his right index finger and sensually outlined each cut-as-diamonds muscle of my chiseled abs.  Clearly he was fascinated by and admiring of the extraordinary physique that he now had at his mercy.  At least there was a brief reprieve from the beatdown!

I can understand how he was hypnotized by their perfection. I am justifiably extremely proud of my abs. I got numerous compliments on them. Imagine ridges so deep I can wedge coins in them... after I jack off I let my spuzz flow through the creases of my 8 pack-using ‘em as "cum gutters"... His admiration  for my sculpted abs turned into angry envy, as his brow darkened again “You like your abs, huh Mule?" he said, and punctuated the statement by slugging me once in the gut.  He hit me so hard that my diaphragm screamed in agony and the shock wave shot up through my trachea and poured out as a traumatic grunt. The punishment had resumed- Mike delivered seven more battering blows-for an eight count, one for each hard abdominal muscle that I had spent years perfecting.  

"You," he grunted in between blows, "are... gonna... be... my... BITCH!"  Each of his staccato grunts was matched by an even louder one from me.  I felt like my body had been broken on the wheel. Once I was totally wrecked he stepped back...  grinned down on the helpless ruin of the Mule that lay utterly at his mercy.  He pulled his tighty whites down  and put the elastic  under his ball sack and thrust his fists into the air in triumph as he showed me his fucking hard cock as if to declare the supremacy of his manhood and his utter victory by such a display.

Clearly he was nearly as well-endowed as I was  Then as if to add insult to injury he let his massive python sway back and forth before my eyes, as if to let me soak in the reality of my humiliation… bitter as was the state of affairs, I had to admit his engorged manhood was an impressive sight. His horse cock was almost as long as my own 9"-er and as thick as a beer can, no wonder that crazy neighbor chick told her friends that it hurt as much as mine... but in that moment, I didn't really look at his manhood as anything but a weapon against me .  As if to illustrate this, He steps forward, and uses his rock hard cock as a club as he bitch slaps me across the face so hard with it that my lips begin to swell and bled.

Then like a cat predatorily playing with his dinner, he stroked the palms of his hands slowly across my sweaty and blood- soaked pecs and down my long, rippled abdomen. From my upside down view I could see the concentration, cruelty and craving on his face as his hands slid wetly up and down my torso .  The fight or flight part of my brain had clicked on at initial stare down, and now my warrior boner was fully engaged, my own tighty whites  tented as my cock swelled unbidden-reacting to the fight hormones.   I was as hard as an iron pipe! It angered me that he would see this, draw the wrong conclusion, adding only more to his sense of triumph and more to the flow of serotonin, adrenaline and testosterone through my body.

Abruptly, he lifted his hands. Locking his gaze with mine he smiled devilishly he slowly curled the fingers of his massive right hand into bear-like claws.  Finally, he plunged his right claw down into the sculpted abdomen beneath him whispering that “my victory won’t be complete until I make you BEG for it to end!”  .

The fat bastard was salivating like a rabid hound, as he pressed the bear like crush, the right hand dug down to his middle into my abdomen as his left arm was swung over to support my weight  My abdomen was on fire with the excruciating pang and I could see the muscles and veins in his forearm bulging as he intensified the torture....digging into my internal organs as he penetrated what I always imagined to be my indestructible abs....he just kept digging deeper like he was gonna rip my goddamn liver out .... My hips bucked up and down. My legs kicked aimlessly, my body almost wiggled entirely out of his control as I frantically defied every raw nerve in my body that at this point was demanding that I submit to the inevitable and end this agony.  I was being crucified on the hood and grill of my jeep.

 I felt an energy of sheer determination welling up from some buried corner of my being. No doubt the product of the high levels of combat hormones saturating ever part of my body.  It was as if I was Popeye being handed spinach at the very threshold of obliteration. My bright red abdominal muscles rose and fell quickly as I breathed deeply, trying desperately to recover.  My tormentor was oblivious to the transformation coming over me and felt secure in his ultimate victory.  . To his understanding, all resistance had ceased and he brought his hands up behind his head lacing his hands on the back of his neck and popping off his 22" fatceps while he cooed for me to beg for this all to be over. His cock was unmistakably hard, straining the very tensile strength of his tighty whites.

Not hearing me utter the expected words, Mike lost patience again and stepped in to resume the savage assault, when he leaned in, like the stupid ape he was, and foolishly came within range of my counterattack. He was caught completely off guard when my knees kicked up off the car, something he figured I was incapable of at this stage. I caught his big gorilla head between my 28" quads of death. His head was caught like a car at the junk yard being caught between the vice-blades of a car crusher.  I exerted so much force, that I felt I was about to crack his thick skull open, but he bellowed like a bull being castrated and staggered back.  I grabbed the bumper as he did, and with my new found leverage I was able to drop him to his knees.  He started to pound his two big fists desperately at my legs and once again the bruises from the fight the Friday before came into play and I released my leg scissors.

"That's going to cost you," I snarled, rubbing abs. For the first time since our combat began, I saw him shake his big stupid head trying to regain his senses as he rose unsteadily to his feet.  I seize the opportunity and throw my shoulder-first football style block blow into Mike.  He's jarred, his face droops into a particularly oafish expression as if a number of circuits are down, and I grabbed him around the waist and executed a belly-to-belly soup lay, his 315 lbs. bulk smashing into the concrete with a huge thud.   Using my athleticism, I monkey flip to my feet.  You can hear Big Mike's labor breathing as he struggles to his feet.  The big fucker is gassing out.  Those big muscles require a lot of oxygen and fuel to function and his vast stores fat just doesn’t burn quickly enough, to be of assistance.  The light comes on in my Mule brain as I realize all I got to do is drain his tank, he has no endurance!   His big barrel chest and thick belly were already heaving as he is tried to get some air back into his lungs.

  I flung my right arm back like Thor reaching for his hammer Mj√∂lnir; as the God was reborn before his terrified, moronic slack-jawed visage.  Mike desperately pounded a few solid shots to my exposed abs.  This time, I was ready, and despite the pain, I was able to flex my abs into a wall of rock just before the blows landed so that they did little more than vibrate my mid-section.  Yeah, with each passing moment it became clearer that the out of conditioned fat muscle fuck was weakening already.    My arm had remained raised and I curled my fingers into a mighty fist and brought the hammer down, slamming deeply Mike’s traps.  As Mike rose, I caught him with a couple of hard blows to the kidneys.  Then I hit him with a roundhouse right into his abs that totally doubled him over.

He fell to his knees as he wretched, almost vomiting onto the concrete.  I stepped into him with a leg-lift that straightened him up just enough for me to let out a roar and connect with a right to the top side of his head. Mike's body seemed to turn instantly to jello. The blow had hurt him badly. I knocked the fight right out of him. For the first time in the fight I saw fear in his eyes, and it was sheer terror.  He living up to his rep as a pussy and a quitter when the going gets rough.

 He was on all fours looking up at me with pathetic, pleading, tear filled eyes.  . Smilingly victoriously, I struck a front double bi of triumph in front of my fallen, humiliated opponent.  "Well, the bigger they are, the harder they fall, and you don’t look so formidable after all.   Save yourself more punishment and admit your defeat at the hands of the Mule..." I demanded.  Lacking the fortitude and determination of the Mule, he caved like a house of cards.  A couple hammer blows by an opponent had turned his victory into the ashes of defeat.  I waited for my battered and dazed rival to rise so I could continue to brutalize him.   "Come on and get up Mike, I’m just starting to punish you...I'm not going to just defeat you, I am going to annihilate you, the way you sought to destroy me" But there was no more fight left in him, a stripe of yellow metaphorically rose like the mercury of a thermometer up his back as his hauteur gave way to utter cowardice.  For the first time in his miserable life, he had met his comeuppance.   It had not taken much to turn this bully into a pansy, never having been challenged to work thru adversity, he was not only physically defeated but mentally demoralized. His once mighty cock grew as flaccid as the rest of his body, as his emasculated brain signaled his body to be awash with estrogen.

"Ugnnhh… win... I got nothing left, I can't even get up, you have beaten me...." he sobbed like a baby between the puppy dog whimpers of his pleas for mercy.

“Dayum, if I had known it would turn into a wuss that easy I would have toyed with him some more,"  I think.  I enjoyed humiliating and destroying this huge beast.  "Get well Mike" I tell him "I am looking forward to another sparring session with you!

"In the meantime, don't forget to clean up that dog shit." as I pointed to the pile still by my door.    Still on all fours, he fretfully watched my massive back recede as strutted to the door of his condo, pulled my tighty whites down in the back, squat and take a dump on the doorstep of their unit. Pointing to the log I left on the porch, I smiled and said: "And you can clean that up while you are at it...."

Mike Z

Mike Z

Friday, April 10, 2015

The Mule Goes to a Funeral (by Mule with editing by S Kane)

I didn't actually know the lady that died, she was the great aunt of someone my mom knew. So while I was there in filial duty, since my Mom was out of town and asked me to go, I NEVER stop being me.

It was hot as fuck the day of the funeral.  I mean it was a blistering 95, hotter than two mice humpin' in a wool sock, not a trace of wind, humid as all hell, the kind of damp that makes you feel you need to be wrung out like a mop at the end of the day.    Clearly too hot to get dressed up, so The Mule being The Mule, I chose not to. Now some of you, more shackled to propriety than the free spirit that is The Mule, might think it a douchebag  move to wear a tanktop to a funeral, but I DID  show some respect and made sure to select a black one.   If it's a hot day and you are ME, there is a sacred principle at play: Sun's out, Guns out...!  I said fuck it, rules are for the mere mortals, and I wore the tanktop.  As I later explained to my mom, at least I went.

I have to say that when I strolled into the room I made a bit of an impression, there was an instant crescendo of excited whispers as if I had thrown a rock at a beehive. But in all fairness I was quite the sight to behold in my tight tanktop. Beneath a muscular neck that would make a bull feel jealous, are a pair of broad shoulders with boulder delts. Sliding over to a 52 inch chest with big broad pecs like western mesas, that I have a habit of bouncing when I am bored, like say at a funeral.  Beneath the delts are sets of vascular eye-popping biceps, the entire torso forming a jaw-dropping taper from the mile-wide shoulders down to my 33 inch waist. When I wear my tanks-there is always the danger of whiplash from the snap of heads turning in my direction. Plus the heat had caused me to perspire just enough to make my exposed muscles glisten with a golden sheen that made me literally radiate with a sun-like glow. So it was not surprising when I noticed this hot blonde cougar in a black dress,checking out my guns .. licking her lips and shit.., with the hunger of a fat kid before an ice cream sundae.

I gave her a nod and that gesture of nonchalance was enough to beckon her toward me like a iron to a magnet, and it wasn't long before we ended up in a back room full of empty coffins..well I hope they were all empty!!!! The way she was pawing at my muscles, I  could see she was aching for a demonstration of my power (as well as my prowess)  so I overhead pressed a heavy-looking casket for six reps...which got her pussy wet as a rain forest .. ,,,,then I  ate her face some then as her eyes were rolling back into her head just from the power of being kissed the way a REAL MAN does it, I decided to up the amps tingling across her properly curvaceous frame and slipped
my massive hand under that short black dress. She had no undies and it occurred to me that it seemed slutty not to wear undies to a funeral especially in a short dress that barely covered her cooter, but there again it was a really hot day and since I was styling a tanktop I guess I cant talk about being classy, especially as I was finger banging her at a funeral home of all places.

It wasn't long before I had her bent over one of the caskets and slipped in my vast endowment which had her purring like a lioness. While I could tell she hungered for the full Mule Experience, we only had time for a 5 minute "teaser" for I could hear the music starting for the funeral and I needed to get back or I would hear it from my mom, although the blonde was somewhat less enthused about returning,  I think she had already forgotten all about the funeral and could think only about The Mule's cock.

We slipped in toward the back, unnoticed by all the eyes that were now fixed on the lectern, and as I sat next to her, her dainty hand surreptitiously and suggestively stroked my massive paw, confessing her continued yearnings with each touch. As the funeral progressed, With such thoughts bouncing around my oversexed brain, I could not help but erupt in short bursts of laughter a couple of times during the funeral and the ho' in the black dress was mean mugging me hard when I did...

I need to explain more of the context of my laughing so I don't sound like a total dickwad, laughing inappropriately at a such a solemn occasion.. It was not out any disrespect for the deceased. .. the old woman sounded like a pretty alpha lady who had lived a fairly remarkable life, not Mule remarkable- mind you, but impressive enough for you lot. I caught some of the details of her life story,
when I was not thinking about banging the hot blonde some more after the funeral. She was in the Air Force in WW2, which was cool, and other chit like that.

But then it happened she had written a note that she wanted read out at the funeral She had a dog that was the light of her waning years, and her dog “Meatball”,  a french bulldog, was there at the funeral. Pretty standard stuff, but then the letter took an unfortunate turn just as my bored brain was turning to my sexual tryst again. She had left instructions for the care of “Meatball”, shit like “Meatball needs to be walked twice a day”, “Meatball will only sleep under a duvet” (da fuk is a duvet? im thinking) , “Meatball has three whines, one is for food, one is for a walk and one is if he is pissed off” learn them… Anyway it went on and on “Meatball cannot be walked without a lead” “Meatball is territorial and will try and kill any cats or dogs wandering into the garden”, “Meatball is not fussy, Meatball will eat any food even Chinese although he won’t eat the broccoli, but don’t feed him grains as it is bad for his skin”…and so on in excruciating detail.

So with thoughts of MY meaty balls having been out slapping the blond not long before, I suddenly I felt the urge to laugh due to the constant “Meatball” this and “Meatball” that....all it took was one more “Meatball” and I burst out laughing whenever they said the name. The hot cougar
looked at me with a “holy fuck dude, why don't you stfu” expression and I really, really  tried my hardest to contain it but burst out again and again with first a loud snort and then a muffled she began kicking me in my 4H sized calves.

Mercifully the note ended, and they sang a couple of hymns and said that we all had to stand for her to be cremated and that they would play a couple of her favourite songs that she had wanted played when she was being cremated.

Well they played this Old timey Perry Como song and one minute in, I looked over at the dead lady's brother who was bobbing his head to this  lame old song and the whole situation was just so ludicrous and surreal… not to mention hilarious...that I had to just HAD to burst out laughing all over again.

Yeah, yeah I know what you are probably thinking, but did I mention how damn fine I looked in that black tank?

Sunday, April 5, 2015

Mule and a Football Player Fight -- by Mule , edited by PecsKane

My day job is Sports Lawyer-NFLPA Certified Contract Adviser and licensed attorney.  It’s actually a great gig, I make bank and live like a boss while doing something I enjoy. And there is a lot more to it than just negotiating contracts for players.  

^^^MULE ^^^

For example, on Wednesday I get called at 2am that I have to go get a football player/client named John "the Beast" Boyer out of jail.
Turns out that earlier in the evening he was drunk and causing problems at a restaurant. Two police officers were sent to a bar in response to a report of an intoxicated male who threatened to punch a bartender. Well, since he was a local football player instead of arresting him the cops called him a cab to take him home.  Nice of them, however, about five minutes later he drunkenly head-butted and punched the cab driver, got out the cab,  stole a shovel from a construction site then tried to hide from officers by covering himself in mulch.  Sounds like a pretty poor escape plan but to be honest not that much worse than his teams game plan against the Seahawks as I recall.  He then repeatedly slammed his head into a patrol car window while yelling and spitting and demanding the cops call John Elway.

This dude may be a top tier master race physical specimen but is like boarder line retarded as it is ... and he’s been pulling shit like this since college.  Dude is like a Neanderthal with Down's on his best day, and being insane drunk and likely high on PCP - according to the cops - don't make it his best day.  He's listed as 6'2" and 235 on the practice roster but he’s been bulking up to try to work his way off the practice roster so he's swole as fuck and probably roided to the gills.  So he's a roided up caveman on Angel Dust and he's drunk.  So aggressive, superhuman strength, and imprevious to pain due to the combo of juice and Angel dust, and he blows 3x the limit to boot!  No wonder the cops had to tase him four times.

So anyway ... its like 3am and I am at the jail and I wake up a judge that gets free tickets to NFL games just so he will answer my phone calls at 3am when this sort of shit happens ... I get the Judge to let dumbass out on his own recog and now I got this insane drunk dude … WTF to do with him?  Put him in a cab and send him home?  Well, two cops had done just that earlier and that hadn't worked out too well ... so I figure a cab wasn't the route to go here.

I thought about it and then, I decided to take him to the 24 hour Let Yourself In gym on Kipling and Bowles … they got a open steam room and a sauna even at 3am … and put him in the sauna to sober him up … sweat the alcohol out of him. I drive a 2011 Jeep Wrangler … with no doors and cum stains on the back seat and water bottles all over the floor so I threw his drunk ass in the back.  By the time we got to the gym the dude was passed out asleep again.  I couldn't wake his ass up so I just put him over my shoulder and carried him inside.  I realize I won't be able to leave him in the sauna alone though.  Between the roids and the PCP his blood pressure could go as high as a giraffes vagina and he could stroke out and die.  So it looks like Mule is gonna be taking a 3am sauna also.  I find myself thinking "Is this why I spent three years in law school?" and getting even more pissed off at the whole situation.  And that’s when I decided to kick his ass.  Not only will I enjoy it, but I figured beating some sense into this Neanderthal with Down's (politically incorrect!!) was infinitely more productive than talking to him.

As I’m stripping Boyer down to put him in the sauna he finally starts to wake up just as I pull his trainers and socks off and tries to push me off … "WTF you doing man?" as I grabbed the ankles of his jeans, Boyer grabs the belt loops of his jeans desperately trying to thwart my attempt to slide them off his thick legs. I lift his ankles higher, prying his hips off the mat and allowing gravity to do the work of sliding Boyer the rest of the way out of his jeans.  The belt loops ripped off in his fingertips, as I yanked his jeans the rest of the way off his legs.

Boyer quickly rolled to his back and sat up, facing me. “You fucking shit head!” he snapped.

He had been going commando so now that the jeans were off he was sitting on his bare ass with his huge cock hanging down.  I looked down and grinned in approval.
“Now that’s a piece of meat, Boyer … Proud of that, I bet … Pity it’s not hard … usually when guys look at me it’s an instant hard-on … Well, we’ll see about that.”   In a move calculated to establish dominance, I reached up and back behind my thick neck, pulling my polo shirt slowly up and over my head to reveal the body of a demi-god.  I hear a gasp from Boyer as he saw first the rock hard, deeply cut, ridged six pack of my abs, and then the shirt rose up and over my heavy, hanging pecs until my perfectly chiseled fortress of a chest is on full view.  As my shirt came clear I tossed it to the corner where I had throw Boyer's jeans and trainers.

Boyer scooted backwards on his bare muscle ass, as he stared at my demi-god torso. “You’re messing with the wrong person, mother fucker!” Boyer snarled, sliding backward on his ass until his shoulder blades made contact with the wall.

I respond by resting my hands on my hips.  Flaring my lats and blowing out my thick, bulging pecs … bouncing them a few times.  “Fuck, you’ve got beautiful pecs, Mule!” Boyer says in appreciation.
“Okay, mother fucker!” Boyer smiles, sliding his back up the wall as he warily climbed to his feet. “You caught me off guard".  Boyer reaches up and clutched the neck of his shirt and ripped it clean off his body.  "Think you are tough, Mule?  Let’s go!"  This time I gasped as I saw his magnificent muscular physique.  Stripped naked the man was a god, broad shoulders, massive chest, washboard abs and slim waist.  He throws the shreds of his shirt on top my polo.  "Your turn to enjoy the view, Mule.” he said as he brought his arms up in a jaw dropping Double Bicep.

I respond by dropping my slacks, shoes and my tighty whities, and adding them to the growing pile of clothes in the corner.

Now there were two buck naked muscle hunks facing each other outside the sauna by the showers ... both showing our mighty cocks and posing our muscled bodies trying to psyche one another out.
"I know you like to fight, Mule." Boyer says.  "You do it often … I do it often … It's a man thing!  Doesn't it make you horny to fight?  Doesn't it make you hard, lawyer man?  It makes me hard as hell!"  He pointed to his thickening cock and glared at me.  Are you up for the challenge?  I win, I fuck you!  You win, You fuck me!  You still want to fight, Mule?" he said. Like the alpha male he was, he was showin me his weapons - a staggering bare muscled torso, built and ripped beyond what I had imagined … and a hardening cock as muscular proportional to his body.  He looks up at me with daggers and sexual lust in his eyes.

Finally, a smirk crossed my face and I say.  "OK, Boyer … you got a fight … and this is how its going to go … I am gonna kick your muscled ass and make you my bitch … then I am going to own you, and your going to do everything I tell you to do, at least unitl I get you out of this shit storm of a mess you have made of your pathetic career in the NFL!"  I stated with all the considerable confidence I could muster.

“You’re mine, bitch!” Boyer growled back.  He reached over and smacked my muscle butt.  “Your ass belongs to me, Muscleboy!”

I held out my arms … “So prove it, big guy … Prove you can beat me and this body is all yours.”  I challenged.  As I display my thickly muscled bod, I crank out a Double Bicep shot that is incredible and puts most bodybuilders to shame.  My chest is freaking HUGE!  My pecs stand out like a shelf and my thick pecs hung from my body as heavy as bags of wet cement and just as hard!  Six deeply cut abdominal muscles, create a formidable wall of muscle that had looked like it was made of river rocks, perfectly sculpted.  Even though he was trying to hide it, I could see Boyer admiring, his thick cock hardening more.  Then, with a cocky grin, Boyer slowly flexed his tanned, bare torso. He crunches his abs and flexes his thick bulging pecs. He watches my eyes as my gaze follows his stunning muscular flexing display.  Boyer flexes a Most Muscular pose, his pecs, traps and delts hardening into slabs of angular rock.  After holding the flex a few seconds, Boyer liftes his arms in a classic Double Bicep pose, displaying his baseball peaked biceps.  “Are you really sure you can handle this?” he asks, turning his own gaze onto his fantastic arms, relaxing and flexing them over and over, making his massive muscles bounce and crunch.

I have to admit that I enjoy wrestling guys of all sizes, and find that some are more for “fun” than true competition, but there is that special feeling when you get the advantage over a guy who is your equal or close to it.

Alpha versus Alpha, fighting or wrestling is all about the domination factor.  The thrill of having two muscle studs who know they can defeat most anyone their size ... and then putting that reputation on the line to see who can kick whose ass.  I have to prove I am the better man, and when I finally make Boyer submit, he will accept me as his superior and as the “Top Dawg!"  I already have concluded I am not gonna be able to help him out of this troubles till I have control over him, and besides, he is one of those assholes that desperately needs a beating.

We began to circle, each getting the measure of the other.  Our muscled glutes flexing with each step we take … our long heavy horse sized cocks and lemon sized balls swaying with the momentum.  Then suddenly, I make my move.  With blinding speed I throw myself forward and clamped my arms viciously around Boyer’s narrow waist, lifting him off the ground in a brutal bear hug.  Boyer howls as he hangs helplessly, feeling my powerful arms tighten round him.  His naked torso flexin up … his arms flailing as he tries to twist free, but my hands are locked solidly behind him.  He never saw it coming, stupid fuck never could read coverage or anticipate a play.

The pain in Boyer's back is excruciating as he feels my arms crushing him mercilessly like a pair of twin Boa Constrictors.  Desperately he tries to swing his fist at my handsome face but I am able to duck back each time.  Suddenly, I yanked the big muscle jock backward.  Lifting him off his feet, and send him flying over me in a classic belly to belly Suplex.  Boyer lands on his head and shoulders first, taking a hard hit to his barn door sized back and his big gorilla head on the locker room floor near the open showers and making him see stars.  The naked hunk rolls over and begins to crawl away on his hands and knees.  I waste no time.  I turn around and start slamming kick after kick into the back of Boyer's 27" massive thighs.  The sound of my size 14 bare feet beating on Boyer's thick steel cable sized hamstrings echoing throughout the empty locker room.  My continuous assault prevented him from getting back up to his feet.  I went on for a few more kicks before I stopped and picked up the big man by his pits.  He resisted but I easily outmuscled him, and dragged my still dazed opponent up to his feet.

I reapplied my mighty bear hug, this time planning on breaking Boyer in half if I didn't hear a submission.  I brutally squeezed causing my opponent to wail in torment.  I was going to squeeze his guts out like toothpaste out of a tube.  His arms flailing wildly out from his sides ... his head falls backwards ... his mouth flew wide open as he gasps for air and he roars out in torturous agony.  I leaned back taking him off his feet as I strained to crush the will to fight out of him.  I could feel his ribs bending.

Just when I am expecting to hear his submission or a rib breaking, I see him pull his head back ... and all I see is a forehead the size of the bumper on a Dodge RAM-1500 pickup filling up my entire field of vision.  BAMMMMMMMMMM ... sounds like a gun shot and for a second I don't feel nothing ... but then I do ... OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW ... my fucking nose ... face... and head ... I can’t even see the pain is so bad ... I feel my brain rattling around in my skull … feels like IQ points are flying out my ears ... like one of those cartoons where Daffey Duck gets hit in the face with a frying pan!

I got both hands trying to feel if my nose is still on my face and forget all about Boyer ... BIG mistake!  I am vaguely aware that a couple of big paws are on my shoulders and I am being moved but my vision is still clearing ... I feel the wall behind me and realize I have been put up against the concrete block locker room wall ... but I am still disorientated from the head butt.

Suddenly, pain shots through my gut - through my whole body!  The roid raging jock had slugged me in my bull sized nut sack.  God it hurt!!!!!  I feel him put his hands on my chest to hold me against the wall, stopping me from arching over and grabbing my nuts.  "Good one!" I groaned.  Pain was shooting up from my testicles and ripping into my gut but he and I both know that a blow to the nads gets worse after impact ... as I felt it doing now ... growing into white hot, breath-killing, body-wracking agony.  My muscles shudder. My head and arms shake and I let out a yell that echoed through the deserted locker room - "AAAHH!!! AAAAAAHHHHHRRRRRRRRHHHH!"

I was still being held against the locker room wall, by two big hands on my pecs.  The pain from my nuts was unbeliveable.  It felt like he had cracked my jumbo eggs.    My eyes were watering it was hurting so bad.  I was out of it.  Boyer was backing off slightly but he still had me pinned up against the concrete wall.  I hear him snorting and pawing like a bull, then BAAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM! ... he head butts me right in the gut.  His big noggin went ears deep into my belly, my rock hard abs collapse like a castle door being hit by at battering ram.  I fold in half while his head was still in my intestines.  The only thing that kept me from screaming again was that the head butt emptied the contents of my stomach ... that protein shake I drank on my way to the police station got yaked out all over the Interstate lane wide back of Boyer.

Boyer extracts his head from my body and stands in front of me, hand on hips, the remnants of my partly digested protein shake running off his broad back, down his muscled ass, and on to the floor.

"You’re finished, man … I’m gonna beat the shit out of you … Your all mine!”  I could hear Boyer gloating but my head was still spinning, I couldn't focus my eyes ... all I saw was a blur of Boyer standing in front of me with his hands on his hips in triumph.  “I can take my time with you, asshole … beat you slowly … Then take that world class ass … You’re fucking helpless.”

Desperately, I threw a punch in the direction of the voice but it went nowhere.  My 28" redwood tree legs buckle and my back slids down the wall behind me as I end up on my knees, beaten and bashed.  My crotch was numb but I was still seeing stars from the agony.  “Admit it, stud, you’re beaten, finished … I have won!  Sitting behind that big fancy desk all day has made you soft, Mule … You can't hang with a trained and conditioned professional athlete such as myself … Now I’m going to go in dry and fuck you till you love me … Your ass is mine … You’re mine to do with as I please … You’re my fuck bitch, Muscleboy!  Maybe when you beg for mercy I’ll put you out of your misery.”

"But first I am going to get your puke off me.  Lets go ..."

With that, Boyer dropsto one knee in front my kneeling, punished body.   Dipping to his side, one knee on the floor, Boyer captures my thick muscular football neck in his left hand, bending me backwards across his shoulders. With a grunt, Boyer rose off his knee and slowly presses himself upward until he stands tall and straight with my long naked muscled body stretched helplessly across his mile wide shoulders.  He pulls hard on my neck and in an astounding show of pure brut muscular power holds my 260 lbs, 6'3'' muscled bod like he would a barbell doing a set of back squats.  Boyer stands, a naked victorious muscle giant, with puke down his back and a muscleman with the physique of a demi-god helpless on his shoulders.  With me still stretched across his shoulders the powerhouse strolls over to and into the showers, walking as easy as though I was a bag of feathers.

  Leaving one hand on my neck he uses the other to turn on the water in the shower ... when he has all six shower heads going full, he releases his hold on my neck and shrugs his boulder shoulders.  When he does, I roll off the shoulders of the 6’2” victor ... and slam into the tile floor, with a huge "SPLATTTTTT!" water flying everywhere.  I was close to being knocked the fuck out with that slam to the hard wet shower floor.   But the running water of the showers starts to revive me.  Even though I was still flat on my back and laid out like a Sunday picnic, and my entire body was throbbing, I began to be conscious of my surroundings again.  I could see Boyer soaping up under one of the shower heads, flexing his muscles, soaping up his turtle shell abs and his massive cock and balls, and rinsing off my puke from his garage door of a back.  He has his back to me at that point and his eyes closed as he was soaping his head.

Realizing this might be the only chance at a comeback I got, I reach deep down for a gut check I man up and I manage to turn myself around and struggle to my knees, noticing how slippery the wet shower floor tiles are as I did.  Boyer turned just in time to see me standing up.  "Good" he says at me, "this means I get to beat on you some more ..." he taunts.  Both muscle titans cautiously circled one another, trying to keep balance on the wet tile floor, then lock our massive arms together in a collar and elbow tie-up.  Both musclemen strained as we try to dominate the other.  I pressed down with all my strength, forcing Boyer to his knees on the shower floor.  Both our faces grimaced with pain from our mighty exertions as I struggled to keep the big man down.  Boyer, summoning all his strength bulls his way back up, determined to out muscle me and reverse and power me down grunting to my knees on the tiles.  But before he can get fully up, I take my foot, place it against his massive chest and push.  The slippery floor tile comes into play as my push causes him to fall down to the shower floor.

I seize the opportunity and slapped on a Siberian Arm Bar as I twist Boyer around and he slips on the wet floor and went off his feet.  Then I apply a painful surfboard ... my foot firmly embedded in the center of Boyer's back ... his arms pulled up and back.  Boyer  writhing in agony on the tiles … “We’ll just see who fucks who, bitch,” I scoffed.  My opponent flails his legs about wildly, and once again the wet slippery floor tiles play a part, allowing him to knock me over.  Again, both musclemen scurry to their feet and circle one another.  “Come on man, show me what you’ve got” I challenge.  In answer, Boyer flexes his mighty arms and poses his magnificent body.  We circled one another like two proud lions stalking for an opening.  We collide together in an elbow and collar tie-up and we dance around: two evenly matched musclemen straining for dominance.
He tries to grab one of my legs only to have me fall on top of his back.  Then I hit him with one ferocious forearm smash after another crumbling him to the wet tiles.

I continued to rain down terrible, pulverizing blows upon Boyer's massive back that sent him crumbling to the tiles once again on all fours.  I mount Boyer’s huge back forcing him to the wet floor in a Full Nelson.  As I do my big cockhead penetrates up into Boyer's muscled ass and presses hard up against his ass lips.  “You’re not man enough to stop me from fucking you right now!”  I whispered.  As I thrust my mighty hips forward ... plunging my monster cock deep between Boyer’s muscled glutes … nailing his muscle butt on the floor.

Boyer screams, howling and bellowing as I take his cherry.  I grunt and whisper in Boyer's ear, “Don’t worry Boyer … This is just between you and me …. No one will know about it … I’m not even going to fuck you … This is only me dicking you up the ass to establish my dominance.  As I thrust my long and thick cock into Boyer's magnificent muscle butt two more times … long-dicking him balls-deep with nine iron hard inches  and clinching my win, before withdrawing completely.  “You’re my bitch now and your going to do whenever I want you to do” I whispered emphatically!

  The totally humiliated football jock nods in agreement as I lay on top of him, tauntingly dry surfing his ass crack, bragging about my victory.  "Now that I used my fighting skills to get the issue of who is in charge out the way, I need to use my legal skills to try to salvage your career..."


John "the Beast" Boyer

 “Admit it, stud, you’re beaten, finished … I have won!  Sitting behind that big fancy desk all day has made you soft, Mule … You can't hang with a trained and conditioned professional athlete such as myself
Stripped naked the man was a god, broad shoulders, massive chest, washboard abs and slim waist.   "Your turn to enjoy the view, Mule.” he said as he brought his arms up in a jaw dropping Double Bicep. 

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

New Year Eve

-Go to some chicks NYE party middle of nowhere
-Get lost cause dumb bish directions
-Get chased by wolves in the forest
-Takes 2 hours total to get to the party, while her house is 5 min from start point
-Good party, lots of dancing, ladies, awesome fireworks ect,

-Talk to every chick there
-Flirt with 2 chicks, first one is a 7/10 with huge teddies but the hotter 8/10 has jacked meat head  husband there
-Pick without husband
-Go upstairs start banging sloot (tight pussy ), about to cum so start doing math problems in my head
-Do some crazy equation i can't figure out and lose hard on

-Bish sucks my dink for 10 min (worst bj ever, dink looks like it went through one of them industrial shredders)  Might have PTSD for life.
-Go downstairs and the bish with husband starts fighting with other sloot about me in front of husband
-I ignore the bish and go back upstairs with first sloot to try banging again

-Later that night juice monkey   husband comes in room where I am laying with sloot and confronts me in roid rage
-Tells me he thought I was a cool guy, but really I'm an dickhole  cause I ignored his wife and did not want to bang her
-I ask him if he's retard and that I will not bang another mans wife, guy gets extremely angry (da fuk)
-Finally wife drags his over developed   ass out of the house and they leave

-Wake up this morning, sloot sucking dink, finger bang her 2 times and eat pussy make her cum bunch of times
-Finally fuk her and cum (raw)
-Go to sleep and wake up to hand job
-I  get up to piss
-Grab my pants,  run off,

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Need to find a cheap carpenter....

I was at some chicks place and  I tried opening a door but didn't realize it was locked so I pulled it harder and totally ripped it off the hinges....the chick  who saw it happen said its because my arms are too big and expects me to have the door fixed.  Funny thing is was last month I tried to change my jeep from park to neutral without turning the ignition and i totally snapped the metal base of my gear lever...and the mechanic at the Jeep dealer said its because my arms are too big... funny hearing that twice in a month like that, maybe its truth.  Will check with my neighbor and see if he can give me the name of that carpenter she was using that I beat up a while back... ought to be an interesting convo..   "Hey, broself,  this is Mule,  I kicked your ass a while back, I was wondering if you could fix a door for me...."