Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Tyrone's Fantasy

Tyrone's Fantasy :  Ty Beats Mule, but only in his Dreams 


As he had done almost every night since his defeat by the Mule, Tyrone lay in bed stroking his big black cock and thinking about the fight, the fuck, and his opponent.




Tyrone lay in bed stroking his big black cock and thinking about the fight, the fuck, and his opponent.

(*** - remember if you click on a pic it will open up full sized - ***)


 He was a man obsessed, he could not get Mule out of his mind, the white stud both turned him on, and infuriated him.  In Tyrone's mind, Mule had gotten lucky. If Tyrone hadn't hit his head on the rock, he knows he would have won.  As far as Mule is concerned, it was his superior skill that won the fight.  Losers always have some excuse, could have, would have, should have... but the proof of who is better is the one who takes the win.  Once he defeated Tyrone he didn’t give Tyrone much thought. Tyrone on the other hand could hardly think of anything BUT THE MULE-and was fuming because Mule brushed off his requests for a rematch, which Tyrone attributes to Mule being afraid of him.  Mule on the other hand simply doesn’t like retreading old ground, but is always looking for new vistas, and new conquests, be they in the ring, or in the sack- he rarely does rematches in either field of combat.

Tyrone decided to try and work through his Mule issues, and found a white chick on Tinder that was fortunately turned on by Ty's incessant and O.C.D. recounting of his battle with the Mule, and who expressed her desire to see her black stud Tyrone and the white stud Mule squaring off.  Tyrone knows that somehow, someway, sometime soon he will have to convince the Mule to a rematch, in a loser gets fucked match, with the hottest white chick on Tinder as the prize.



In Tyrone's fantasy, Mule and Ty square off, in a loser gets fucked match,  with the hottest white chick on Tinder as the prize.


In the meantime…it is Tyrone v. hand.  Slowly Tyrone, stokes his long horse sized cock, and spanks his meat as his mind creates another of the dozens of fantasies he has had over the past few weeks, and like in all his fantasies, Tyrone is victorious…


Tyrone, stokes his long horse sized cock, and spanks his meat as his mind creates another fantasy

Tyrone raised his arm and smashed his fist down on Mule’s throat.

Mule gasped and clutched his throat, choking the pain in his wind-pipe agonizing.   Standing behind the choking man Tyrone, brought his massive arms round Mule's massive chest, and locked his hands behind Mule's thick neck in a perfect full nelson.  He leaned backward so Mule’s feet left the ground and, whirled the muscled blond round helplessly like a rag doll.

Tyrone let go, sending the muscular body spinning over the ground.

Mule pulled himself to his knees, Tyrone’s fist smashed into the blonde’s handsome face and Mule staggered backward.  The onslaught was merciless as blow after blow rained onto the man’s jaw.
 a massive black fist crashed  into Mule's face.
The onslaught was merciless as blow after blow rained into Mule's jaw.


The blonde Adonis was reeling, spinning round under the rain of blows.  He staggered back toward the water and finally crashed to the ground.   Tyrone was on him in a second, kneeling over him with his hands clamped round his throat.  He squeezed hard and watched as Mule's eyes opened wide in helpless terror.  Mule felt he was being choked to death.

As he lay trapped in the big dude’s savage grip with his arm bent behind his neck at an angle it was never meant to go, Mule realised too late that he should never have taken him on. His shoulder was on fire and he could hardly breath. Time and again he tried to power up but it got him nowhere. Mule’s muscle and power were awesome but this guy’s were off the scale. Just as he thought it could not get any worse and the pain get any greater, he was clamped harder. The young powerhouse grunted intensely as he muscled Mule’s formidable body back and forth like a big rag doll.

Mule lay trapped in the big black dude’s savage grip with his arm bent behind his neck

"Want me to snap his neck, babe?  Tyrone asks....

The young powerhouse grunted intensely as he muscled Mule’s formidable body back and forth like a big rag doll. 


Tinder Chick turned on by the beating Tyrone is putting on Mule

Weirdly, in response to that thought his mighty dick stiffened even more

With one mighty roundhouse gut punch from Tyrone,  Mule was doubled over, collapsed onto the ground, his massive arms clutching his stomach.   Quickly Tyrone was upon him, standing over Mule raining down one lethal blow after another on his defenseless body.    Tyrone pulled Mule up by his head.  He got him in a reverse front headlock as he beat away at his back and shoulders with massive blows of his fist.  Mule was forced to all fours under the onslaught. His conqueror stood in front of his face.  With his mighty cock in his hands, Tyrone, laughing, began to unceremoniously beat the Mule’s face with it, even wiping it all over his head as he shouted “This is the cock that will destroy you. " Tyrone , his body dripping in a shower of sweat, stood over his fallen opponent.  With his hand he wiped the perspiration from his face and eyes, flicking the wet, slimy residue contemptuously down on his fallen challenger.

Mule was forced to all fours under the onslaught

Mule was taking the beating of his life

His conqueror stood in front of Mule's face with his mighty cock in his hands, laughing


The  hunk easily lifted the Mule up over his head and viciously bodyslamed him to the ground knocking the breath out of him. Senseless, Mule  put up no resistance.  “Payback is a bitch, isn’t it Mule!” taunted Tyrone as he again reached down to flip Mule up over his shoulder in an excruciating backbreaker.  With his arrogance running wildly out of control he strolled around sadistically bouncing the Mule up and down to deliberately increase the torturous pain he was inflicting.  Then with a piledriver he smashed the Mule’s head into the ground rendering him almost unconscious.

Mule was beaten.

 Suddenly Tyrone grabbed a handful of wet sand and smashed it into Mule’s face, grinding the sand into his eyes.  Tyrone used his fingers to gouge Mule's eyes, filling them with wet sand, crunching it into his face.  Mule was temporarily blinded.

With a howl Mule sprang to his feet and brought his hands to his eyes, trying to rub away the sand.  He could see nothing, he was disoriented ….and then he felt a big fist smash into his jaw.  He reeled backward, blindly swinging his fists but it was hopeless.  He heard Tyrone’s creole guttural voice taunting him.

“You’re finished, man.  I’m gonna beat the shit out of you.  You’re all mine,” and a massive black fist crashed again into his face.  “I can take my time with you, asshole ….torture you slowly.   You’re blinded, and fucking helpless.”

Desperately Mule threw a punch in the direction of the voice but it went nowhere.  “Admit it, stud, you’re beaten, finished.   Tyrone has won.  This is it, man.  I’ve been waiting for this a long time.  This is the beating you deserve.”

There was nothing Mule could do except stand there and try to withstand the onslaught.  Tyrone toyed with him, crashing his fist into his face, pausing, then hammering him repeatedly. Mule was taking the beating of his life: his naked muscular torso gleaming wet, bruised and battered, his ruggedly handsome face flying from side to side as the merciless fists of creole fury landed again and again.

“You’re finished, man.  I’m gonna beat the shit out of you.  You’re all mine,”

Tyrone hauled back and smashed one last mighty fist into Mule's helpless face.

Still blinded, Mule was helpless.  He tried to stay on his feet but felt the fight go out of him.  His knees buckled and he knew he was finished.   He was dimly aware of the sneering voice.  “OK, stud, let’s put you out of your misery.  This is it, man.  I am the best.”  Tyrone hauled back and smashed one last mighty fist into the helpless face.   The muscle god arched upward, spun round, staggered backward, and the earth shook as he crashed to the ground face down in the water.

Quickly, Tyrone forced Mule into a full nelson.  By brute force, he lifted Mule's 260 pounds of pure muscle out the water and held him, standing behind him.  Tyrone's huge arms pushed below Mule's, forcing Mule's massive arms to flap outward.  Tyrone's arms bent upward and his hands gripped Mule behind the head.  His powerful arms exerted a painful amount of force on the thick, bulging neck of the jock.

Mule moaned in pain as Tyrone grunted.

Tyrone jerked his arms tighter, forcing Mule's head forward slightly. Mule fought back, bringing his hands up to his forehead and pushing his head back.  Tyrone simply pushed harder.  Mule's arms bulged as he fought, but Tyrone forced his head forward, in humble submission.

"Remember white boy you agreed to loser gets fucked...you ready to get fucked?"

"Remember white boy you agreed to loser gets fucked "
"You ready to be fucked, white boy?"


Mule's answer was a grunt and a powerful push.  Tyrone continued to speak as he occasionally jerked the Mule's muscular neck with his powerful arms.  "No, I doubt it.  A man with a physique like yours isn't used to losing...."

"I don't punk out on my bets...you won my ass fair and square..." Mule replied thru gritted teeth, resigned to his fate.


Tyrone leaned forward and kissed the back of Mule's thick neck, nibbling one of his protruding vertebrae.

Tyrone pulled his torso back,  slowly removing his stiff cock from between Mule's legs.  Tyrone's precum dribbled down the inside of Mule's muscular quads.  Then Tyrone slowly pushed his throbbing dick up and began to separate Mule's glutes.  His muscular probe moved in between Mule's ass cheeks, ever-so-slowly parting the rock-hard ass muscle.  Mule squirmed and fought.  Tyrone yanked Mule's neck forward hard.  Mule yelled in pain and stood still.  He remained still as Tyrone pushed his hot, massive man meat pushed his hole wide open and invaded him, slowly, smoothly, wetly, inch by slippery inch, it advanced.  Mule groaned  in  agony. The invasion seemed to go on forever.  Tyrone's  hips were like hydraulic presses.  He grunted with pleasure as his pubes slapped against Mule’s ass.

Tyrone's wet, steel rod was all the way inside Mule's tight ass.  Tyrone notched it in the last bit and then tightened every muscle in his body.  It felt sooooo good to fuck  this  arrogant white bodybuilder. Mule was the epitome of strength, power, muscle and authority.  And Tyrone was fucking  him, bringing him in to humiliating submission.

Tyrone gently bit his lower lip as he held his prey still.  He nudged his cock in and pressed it hard, up into the muscleman's guts.  He flexed his rod, and Mule groaned as it moved inside him.  Tyrone stood absolutely still now, continuing to hold Mule in the full-nelson.  He held still, without pumping.  He patiently waited for the semen in his penis to begin exploding inside the muscular man he held captive.  His warm, dark ass cave seemed to involuntarily massage Tyrone's  penis.  Tyrone pushed himself in farther.

Mule moaned again.  His neck and head were under unbearable pressure. Tyrone’s hard, wide dick inside him felt like a metal shaft as it moved inside his rectum. Suddenly, Mule began to feel the steel rod move.  Tyrone's dick began to open and close inside him.  Warm bursts of liquid began to fill him. Tyrone was cumming.

Tyrone winced with the first few ejaculations.  His huge, muscular body tightened.  His vascularity was amazing!  Muscle on top of muscle rippled as his body convulsed with the most pleasurable orgasm he had had in a long time.  His mega super-sized body began to empty it's semen into the super-sized body of Mule.  Tyrone leaned back just a little, and lifted Mule's feet off the floor.  His super-strong cock supported Mule's muscular body as it filled him with jizz.

Tyrone yelled "Ohhhhhhh. Ohhhhhh."

Mule flailed in pain and pleasure as Tyrone's cock stretched his rectum.  He could actually feel Tyrone's plum sized penis head expand and contract with each ejaculation.  The rod inside him seemed to mechanically open and close to deposit its warm milk.

Tyrone released Mule from the full-nelson and continued to lean back, forcing his member up Mule's ass farther.  He grabbed Mule's mammoth shoulders and held on tight.  He yelled with each jerking ejaculation of his cum.  "Fuck!--Fuck!--Fuck!--Fuck!--Fuck!--Fuck!"

The Mule, suspended in air only  by Tyrone's big black cock, hung like a ragdoll.  His muscular limbs flopped in the air as Tyrone fucked the shit out of him.

Mule felt like a rag doll ... a fucked rag doll.  Yet in spite of all the pain and humiliation, he was also
sexually aroused and gratified as never before.

The huge  white strongman had been broken.
like in all his fantasies, Tyrone is victorious…

The phone rang, Tyrone awoke-- swimming in his own spent semen, as he heard the cocky, confident, unconquered Mule as the call went on voice mail.

As his vision cleared he realized he was laying on his bed in his own apartment.    The phone read 8:18 am.  It was morning. Brilliant rays of sunshine flooded into the room.

“Wake up Muscleboy!” the White Devil on the phone said. " I got your email.  Yeah, I would be down for a workout together to prove who the strongest is.  I will leave you in the dust.  Make sure to bring a spotter, and that chick from Tinder you have been talking with...."

Tyrone yelled loudly and sat bolt upright in his bed.  He had been secretly practicing with his workout partner, Jamal,   for just this occasion.  He would show Mule he was his  superior in strength.  He felt himself getting hard again at the thought.

His torso was wet with sweat.  He looked down at his chest and abs.  His abs grew and shrank with each heavy breath he took.  His heart pounded in his chest.  He could feel it, and hear it
His fantasy orgasm had been of the most enjoyable kind.

His black skin glistened.  His rippling muscles continued to ebb and flow with each deep breath.  There was no fat visible on his huge, overly-developed body.  His broad shoulders and thick chest were matched only by the magnificence of his 22 inch arms.  Each defined head of muscle on his torso seemed to move with erotic power and sensuality.  Small rivers of perspiration welled up between the ridges of his cobblestone abs.

He brought his hands up and placed them behind his head and stretched.  His muscular torso danced with waves of powerful striations.  He relaxed and brought his hands down.  His wide deltoids powerfully capped his perfect upper-body.

He pulled down the sheet, which was also drenched in his sweat, so that it no longer covered his waist.  The bed sheets were sopping, but it wasn't just with sweat.  They were filled with white, milky fluid.  It covered his massive penis and balls Even the muscular veins that wrapped their way around his thick shaft were visible.  His tennis ball-sized testicles were forced forward by his obscenely developed leg muscles.  The whole ensemble formed to make the most beautiful bouquet of muscular meat, scrotum, balls, and semen.

The ebony muscleman’s fingers played with the bouquet for a moment.  He was used to having orgasms while he thought about Mule.  But this ejaculation must have been one of his biggest.
"Shit," he whispered as his fingertips pushed on the goo-covered genitals.  He was semi-limp.    He tightened his dick, and a small squirt of jizz oozed out his hole.  He wiped it with his fingertip and then stuck his finger into the pool of semen that drenched his genitals.  Within seconds, his most base impulses took over and he found himself sloshing his semen and rubbing his cock with both hands.  His huge arms swelled as he manipulated himself.  He brought himself to an erection again.  Oh it felt so good.  His wet, steel-hard dick rose into the air as his strong hands caressed it.  How he loved touching himself!

As Ty closed his eyes, thoughts of the Mule flowed back into his mind. “Someday Mule, someday soon your ass is going to be mine.  I’ll be your master and you my slave.  Someday ... someday soon!”
As Ty closed his eyes, thoughts of the Mule flowed back into his mind.




Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Tyrone visits Johnson City : Tyrone vs. the Cop

Tyrone's Johnson City Experience : Tyrone vs. the Cop

Your Mule is taking the week off to have some more adventures to write about.  But Artist Brah
( Steve62Reeves)  has stepped up and provided us with this great story of Tyrone's experience when he drove though Johnstown and his run in with the meat head cop Mule had come across a few years before ( http://mule-mulesblog.blogspot.com/2015/05/guilty-as-charged-mule-v-cop.html ).   Enjoy!

***If you are having trouble reading the word balloons just click on the pic and it will open to full size***

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Thursday, July 9, 2015

Mule and Tyrone








Mule vs Tyrone 
(story by Mule, edited by S Kane.  Artwork by Steve62Reeves)

"This is perfect for our needs.” said Mule as he surveyed the small, remote and deserted beach.  As Mule and Tyrone stood on the rocky sand next to the water the tension seemed to crackle in the air like electric sparks.   The time had finally come.

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Saturday, July 4, 2015

MMA Chick: the Epilogue





After the match with MMA Chick:

Either one of you boys ready to go again?
"I could go another round of fucking" the Kid responds

(click "read more" to continue)

Friday, June 26, 2015

Mule and the MMA Chick: The Movie


Mule and the MMA Chick powered by XTube If you have trouble playing this let me know by email MuleLPi@gmail.com Our first attempt at a movie. Comments or suggestions are appreciated.

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Mule and the Soldier

Mule and the Soldier



Now your Mule doesn’t normally ride the bus. Most of the time, I get where I need to be in my faithful jeep. Only recently, she was in the shop getting another imprint of the Mule removed from her hood.  Faithful readers will know this has happened more than once, good thing the claims adjuster has the hots for Mule and always says YES,YES, YES- before, during and after I am fucking her either in terms of the insurance or in the bedroom.

But the Mule still has to get to where he is going, and thumbing through my phone contacts for hot chicks to give me rides, only goes so far when you tend to delete them after they go stage 5 clingy, which given that I am the Mule, they ALL DO.

Only the other day, I had punched in the number of some hot young chick with massive tits which I was looking forward to exploring in detail after she successfully served in chauffeur duty; however, a moment later she calls me back and says her car won’t start when she turns the key.  Naturally I thought that “Your engine would definitely turn over if I stuck in my key”, but I said, “No problem”, I will just catch the bus, this is a college town.”

I had never rode the bus before here, but the BRT is part of some GREEN COLORADO initiative, and runs on cow farts or some shit like that.  The bus station here is known as Boulder Junction (previously called the Transit Village -but that sounded too much like an ex-con half-way house) and is… and I quote:
 “…a state of the art transit-oriented development that features a bus rapid transit (BRT) station, Boulder Junction is becoming and the importance of providing robust BRT service to leverage the significant public (city and RTD) and private investment to support a true transit-centered lifestyle at Boulder Junction.”
In other words the hippies, stoners and college kids ride the damn thing, and the rest of us ride in our private vehicles because we ain’t commies!

Anyway, in a nutshell, that’s why I was on the bus yesterday heading off down the gym, as usual, aiming to add a few more pounds of muscle to the 270 I already got. The bus naturally had bikes hanging off the front and was painted with “art” meant to look like graffiti, to make the busses look “hip and fun” for the young people until it was covered over with REAL GRAFFITI.  I got in following a series of people with “Ecopasses” and when I got in and paid my $2.60 in vile COIN, the crowd seemed to hiss as I was clearly an interloper!  I made my way past the disproving looks of the hemp-fiber clad/ Birkenstock shod hostiles back to the back of the bus. There were fewer of the “I never wear deodorant on principle” people there and there was more room in back seat for my imposing frame

So I settled myself down in the back after scattering some pencil necks and started to look around. Straightaway, I noticed the shoulders a couple of rows up on the other side. As wide as a football field. The tan beret he was wearing on his jar head said military. Tan beret means Army Ranger, as I recall. Rangers are supposed to be uber tough. I had fought Marines before, most of them were bat shit crazy.  But I had never fought an Army Ranger.
The Soldier
(click on "Read More" below to continue with this post)

Mule and the Soldier - ***Epilogue***

*******Epilogue*********

 Man, Mule loves me a nice big pair of tits. Especially after a brawl!

(click "Read More" below to continue reading this post)


Wednesday, June 3, 2015

Mule vs Rob Ho Fuk -- Part I

Rob Ho Fuk  --  Part I
 (Names may have been changed to protect the guilty)
  by Mule  + editor brah + artist brah
(special thanks to Rob Musclestud)

As some of you may know, Mule does charity MMA style wrestling and boxing matches.  I have actually done four over the past two years.  They are set up by a 3rd party event planner, who makes all the arrangements.  The person wanting to wrestle or his sponsor agrees to a certain donation amount, which goes directly to the charity receiving it.  Past donations have gone to tornado victims in Oklahoma, wild fire victims, something about kids.  This has actually raised several thousand bucks.  The 3rd party event arranger weeds out the creepers so I have always had quality opponents.  The dudes with whom I have had matches are understandably well heeled, older than me, and take this very seriously.  They have private trainers, private wrestling coaches, private MMA trainers, nutritionists, and are very enthusiastic fighters.

(click "Read More" below to continue with this post)

Mule vs Rob Ho Fuk -- Part II


Mule vs Rob Ho Fuk  --  Part II
(click on "Read More" below to read this post)

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Mule and the Phantom Mare

Mule and the Phantom Mare
 (Mule=writer brah, S Kane=editor brah, Steve62Reeves=artist brah)

I spent the Memorial Day weekend in Ten Sleep, Wyoming at the Rodeo.

http://shop.tensleeprodeo.com/Annual-Beauty-the-Beast-Rodeo-May-23-2015_c5.htm

Ten Sleep is a town of 260 whose population swells by thousands during the rodeo weekend. The locals are cool as fuck with it all.  There is music till the wee hours, plenty of beer and recreational drugs, "fair food" and BBQ,  and big titted cute as fuck and slutty cowgirls everywhere.  As long as you got a penis there is no reason why you shouldn't be getting laid every waking hour.  There is no way to get a hotel room, so most dudes including me just bring a sleeping bag and stay outdoors.  Much fucking goes on in those sleeping bags.  They are facilities for the rodeo including portable toilets and even outside showers, which all just adds to the fun of ruffing it for a few days.

Early Sunday morning, having smashed three anonymous cowgirls the night before, I am heading back from taking a leak when I see a young cowboy.  Like most of us at that time of the morning, he is shirtless, just in his jeans and boots, hat of course.   He got a fat free physique that you get not from lifting weight in a gym but from lifting 100 lbs. bales of hay and fence posts all day, Compact lean muscle.  But what catches my eye is the tattoo of the State of Louisiana on his 17" left bicep.   Da fuck someone from the Mule's native state way up here?

Joey's Louisiana Tattoo


So I hoof it over to him and strike up a convo.  Turns out his name is Joey, and he's from Thibodeaux, LA.  Cajun country.  Looking for a change of scenery he came out west a couple of years ago, and has been working as a ranch hand in Montana and now Wyoming.  He's working at a breeding ranch just six miles from Ten Sleep.   He’s a general ranch hand.  He's working for a ranch that makes its money selling sperm for artificial insemination from prize winning horses.   This is actually pretty interesting.  You can read about it here http://www.equine-reproduction.com/articles/collection.htm  and here http://www.equine-reproduction.com/articles/phantom.htm

Thus begins the Tale of Mule and the Phantom Mare:

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Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Daddy Issues : part II

Daddy Issues II (by Mule, edited by S.Kane & illustrated by  Steve62Reeves)
  -- (See Daddy Issues I elsewhere on this blog to see what went on before) --


"As humans we are all animals. We are driven to eat, breed, and survive. All men want to be the alpha male. To be that 700 lb. male Lion. When another male comes into his territory he doesn't reason, he doesn't waiver, but he acts. He turns the grass red with his rival's blood and watches with his females as the vultures pick his bones. That's what it is to be a man. Understand it, embrace it"- Mahatma Gandhi



The day finally arrived for the jock strap only match between Me and the former Mr. Colorado and gym owner, while his daughter, the front desk girl, watches.  We have the gym totally to ourselves, and our match is taking place on the weight room floor.  Some equipment has been moved out the way, and yoga mats have been placed to serve as make shift wrestling mats.

I wore a  tight fitting yellow T-shirt that wasn't tucked in, and some blue gym shorts and of course my jock underneath. I looked astounding as usual! .

Trisha, a.bubbly little Barbie Doll  blonde  with huge double D  boobs,   was wearing a sports bra that strained to contain her massive breasts and shorts that didn’t go any further than her cooter.  She was exhibiting some serious camel toe.

Her Daddy was wearing  gym shorts and an oversized sweat shirt.  He looked a big as a grizzly bear even in his oversized sweat shirt..

The day arrived for the Match between Mule and Trisha's Daddy


I figured someone had to be the first to disrobe.  And it might as well be me.  I winked at Trish who sat on a weight bench and looked up adoringly as her Hercules started to lift his shirt
I let my shirt fall onto the floor and instinctively I stretched out. I shook my arms out and flexed my pecs.   Next I dropped my shorts, leaving me standing in just my over packed jock strap.  My 6'3" 260 lbs of rock hard, bulging muscle on full display, to Trisha's obvious delight.

Trisha stood up and approached her muscle god. She slowly ran her fingers up my rippling abs and onto my thick chest. She stopped there, caressing my warm, powerful pectoral muscles.

Trisha admiring Mule stripped down to just his jock


Her fingers squeezed as she smiled into my eyes.

I leaned forward, and we started to kiss. My big arm moved up and I placed my hand on her shoulders. Shit my upper arm was huge! My forearms were just as developed and  bigger than most men's biceps!

"Shit, babe, you standing there with your big ole tits hanging like that-- you sure are causing me a boner here."  I tell her.

Daddy's mouth dropped open. Trisha tried to hide her smile.

I stepped toward Trisha, very closely. Our eyes locked. "Yeah babe, you like what you see?" I whispered.  I put my hands on her hips and pulled her  into myself. Her eyes met the cliff-like overhang of my pecs, my golden-tan nipples right in front of her. I pushed my hips against her, pressing my jock enclosed  cock against her. My huge arms flexed as my hands rested on her hips. I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

I tightened my arms on her waist and slowly, effortlessly, started to lift her, sliding her up my rippling physique until our lips met. This mammoth hunk that is the Mule tenderly kissed her as I held her nearly a foot off the ground, my back and shoulders flaring.

She nearly swooned as her lips extended to meet mine. My mouth opened in the kiss, and I began frenching her softly. I  know her Daddy must be imagining my 6'3"  260 lbs frame just rag dolling his baby girl's  lil body around in bed and her moaning in pain after she takes my legendary donkey dick.  Him knowing that every chance I get  I am ape fuking her sweet little pus, going to town on those  sweet suga walls

Daddy grabbed Mule's shoulder, and his hand was greeted with the hardest slab of trap muscle he had ever encountered. Mule didn't move. Daddy tightened his grip and tried pulling me. Nothing. Daddy's huge, muscular body tightened and he tried once more to pull me away from his little girl.

"Come on, you asshole. Get your fuckin' hands off her." Daddy growls 


"Come on, you asshole. Get your fuckin' hands off her." Daddy growled.

I didn't even turn around to acknowledge Daddy's hand on my shoulder.  I pulled back from the kiss and smiled. Trisha barely opened her eyes and seemed to moan for more. I lowered her a few inches, then raised her again. Then I did it again, allowing her petite body to rub up and down against my huge, rippling muscles. We kissed again for another minute, then I slowly lowered her back down. Daddy watched, fuming silently.

"I'm not bothering you, doing this, am I?" I asked Daddy innocently.

"You know," I said, looking at Trisha. "I'm giving your Daddy here a boner."

Daddy face turned from red anger to red embarrassment. But he couldn't hide the huge bulge in his own mesh shorts that snaked up his left hip.

After another few minutes of passionate kissing and touching, I pulled back and looked back at Daddy. "You know, dude," I said to Daddy, "I think you might enjoy watching me fuck your daughter. Might give you a few pointers, some techniques you can use." I turned away from Daddy again, leaving the heavily-breathing hunk to stand alone.

As I turn, Daddy's deep voice booms out:   "Actually, I was just wondering if maybe Trisha might want to see what some REALLY big muscles look like," Daddy smiled. He looked down at his arms, rippled them slightly, and then looked back up, deep into Trisha's eyes.

Then Daddy looked straight  at me. "Aw come on, Mule. You afraid that if I take my shirt off little Trisha here might see something she likes more than you?"

With a broad grin, Daddy started to play with the bottom of his sweat shirt. His huge arms rippled. Trisha's eyes were glued on them.

"You want me to take this thing off and let you have a look?" Daddy teased Trisha.

Trisha nodded eagerly.  She broke away from me and  took her seat on the weight bench that had been set aside for her to use to observe our match from.

Daddy quipped while looking directly at me: "There is still time for you to go and spare yourself the embarrassment, asshole" 

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere, man dude. But later tonight WILL be cumming."  I whispered low. "Right inside your daughter." 

For just a moment, Daddy was just about to throw up a punch at me. Trisha had turned red, but was unable to hide a growing grin on her lips. The grin turned into an out and out smile as she looked her Daddy up and down.

Daddy smiled back and started to lift his shirt. Trisha was watching expectantly from her seat on the bench as her Daddy lifted his shirt slowly letting his physique come into full view.

 First in view were his abs:  two rows of brickwork, unsurpassed in their relief and definition.  Daddy pulled the shirt out and up, over his gargantuan pecs. He lifted it over his head and let it drop onto the floor beside mine. He immediately dropped his shorts, leaving him standing like a Colossus, wearing nothing but a jock strap that failed to contain his huge cock.
The Older Muscle Man is more than a match for the Younger Muscle Man
(click on "Read More" below to continue with this post)

Epilogue - Daddy Issues II : Pillow Talk


PILLOW TALK

Mule continued to collect  on his bet the night of the match.

(click on "Read More" below to view the complete post)

Thursday, May 14, 2015

Thanks to Steve62Reeves for contributing the art work for the Mile High Bear Hug Club post.   See the link to his blog "The Art of Muscle" to check out more of his work including additional pictures from the matches on this blog.  Please remember to leave a comment if you like his work.   And of course, also thanks to S Kane for his usual fine job of editing and continuity supervision.   With another thanks to Steve, here is a preview of an up coming posting, which will be "Daddy Issues II".  You can find Daddy Issues I elsewhere on this blog.


Preview of Daddy Issues II

The Mile High Bear Hug Club

 MILE HIGH BEAR HUG CLUB   (by Mule, edited by S Kane, and artwork courtesy of Steve62Reeves)

As big as you are, and as bad-ass as you are, there is always someone out there that can best you.  As hard as it is to believe, this can even happen to Yours Truly, the one and only MULE.  It can be a profound motivating force to become a bigger and stronger bad-ass.

Now that I am a successful lawyer, I am often flying around the country on business.   As a studly alpha male I am VERY familiar with the MILE HIGH CLUB, but on this particular trip, I was initiated into something I had never heard of, and I bet you haven’t either.  This happened on one of my first out of town business trips.  So here I was in the mid-evening at the airport in Kansas City, waiting for my flight back to Denver, and then on to home sweet home in Boulder.  There is not much to do, not many hot chicks around to ogle, so I was playing some Angry Birds and finally got bored with that, and stared out into space.  Then this business dude starts talking to me, out of the blue.  Now when you are such a handsome guy and spectacular physical specimen as I am, you get used to such interruptions, the price you pay for looking like you just stepped out of Valhalla for a visit to Midgard.

So I turn my head to see who is talking to me, and I get a surprise, it is not your typical pencil neck getting a hard on talking to an alpha hunk. This guy obviously can answer the “Do you even lift, bro” with a clear affirmative.  He is in business attire, as am I, and like me, no dress shirt and suit can hide such prominent muscles.  He looks to be a little older than me and nearly as jacked as I am.  I can tell he does serious lifting, and of course he can obviously also tell I am a monster in the gym.  We introduce ourselves, I tell him to call me “Mule” and he tells me to call him “Grappler Dan”.
So we bro-connect over a discussion on what else … lifting, then onto chatting about our work and where we are headed and what flight we are on, etc. but mostly about lifting.  I am surprised to find out hes 40, he looks younger.  I am getting a good alpha to alpha vibe when suddenly out of the blue he asks me if I like to wrestle. I feel for a second that I am in that AIRPLANE movie and next thing he is going to ask me is if I like gladiator movies.  But I still got a pretty good vibe from the guy so even if it was a WTF question, I shrug and tell him “Sure!”

And then with a glint in his eye, he continues “…. so do you wanna wrestle?” Not something I believe has ever come up in any of my airport conversations before.  Plus he said it rather matter-of-factly, not in the throw down challenge I am used to hearing.  My head snaps back in confusion, unease and surprise and I say. “How is that exactly supposed to work, bro, without the TSA getting all over us shooting Tasers?”

He doesn’t even skip a beat, like he has done this a dozen times before. “Look ... we’re on the same flight and there is another one in four hours ... which is less crowded.  They have a hotel right here in the airport that rent rooms by the hour so you can nap, etc.  How about you and me - grapple for a couple of hours…”

A warning bell sounded in my brain.  Hotel room?  I dunno about this!  He is probably just another one of those homo business guys who are always trying to lure The Mule into some sordid encounter or another (unsuccessfully), so I am about to give my usual “Fuck Off” growl, when I pause, and swallow the bile I was about to fire off at him.  There is just something about his overall demeanor that is so genuine that I believe that all he is interested in is a good grapple session. This is no doubt why he goes by the name Grappler Dan now.  Well I do like contests of strength and combat, and really have nothing better to do, so I say: “Sure, why not!”

The next thing I know I am standing rather awkwardly in the room he has just rented, wondering what I have gotten myself into with my usual reckless abandon. But it is this spirit that has fueled this blog - the Mule just has to be the Mule.  He started moving the furniture back to clear a space, and I jumped into the task, and my misgivings faded.

He took off his wedding ring and set it on a table next to his wallet. Then we started stripping down all the way to bare ass, since with our suitcases and the rest of our clothes already on their way to Denver, we didn’t want to sit in sweaty undies on our flight.  When I was no longer concentrating on the task of stripping down, I looked up to assess my opponent.

 I looked up to assess my opponent.


Whoa ... The dude looked strong as fuck! He stood well over  6’2” and weighed 250+ . so a near match to  my 6’3” and 260. His muscles were as lean and chiseled as my own, with arms that rivaled my own.  His body did not look like they belonged to any 40 year old I had ever met. This dude had a physique that was not to be sneered at, with slabs of muscle on top of slabs of  muscles.

We lock in the grapplers embrace ready to test our mettle against one another, and immediately I am amazed by how strong he is. He is even stronger than he appears, and he appears to be a powerhouse.
The first few pins go to him, as I try to adjust to his strength and skill.  The guy clearly wrestled in high school and college and probably belongs to one of those Masters Wrestler teams that allow singlet-studs to continue in the sport they love well after college is just a memory. He has wicked skills!  Still I am the Mule and the next few went to me, until we were almost taking turns tapping out in the pins, so evenly matched we had become. I was really enjoying the level of challenge, I had to be at the top of my game at every moment, one slip up was all he needed and I was toast.  It was good by-the-book NCAA style wrestling: clean, crisp, technically rigorous, without him ever resorting to dirty maneuvers or any funny shit.  I followed his lead and wrestled sport style rather than the kind of grapple-brawls I usually wind up in.
Grappler Dan goes on the attack

Mule counters

 So we push each around in this fashion for about an hour and a half, just for the sheer fun and pleasure, because as there is no referee we ain’t going on points here. So we shower, and as we are just cooling down clad only in towers he asks me: “Are you a member of the Mile High Bear Hug Club, Mule?”

I give him a quizzical ‘WTF is that’ look.

“Well it’s just like what it sounds like, it is an elite group for those who want to test their strength and endurance up at 30,000 feet.”

“Hell yeah! I want to be a member!” You know The Mule, I don’t back away from a challenge.

“It is going to be a pleasure making you a member, Mule!” he said with a devilish grin.
"Let's grab some more comfortable clothes at the airport gift shop.  Our suits are going to be too inconvenient for what we will be doing on the plane.

Fast forward about an hour.  It's after 10pm, the airport is getting pretty deserted.  We board the plane wearing our gift shop purchased garb, looking more like we are two bodybuilders  heading to the gym than businessmen returning home from a trip.

We settled into our seats, both in first class, Grappler Dan  a few rows ahead of me.  The plane was unusually empty even for a late night fight.  So I had plenty of room to spread out.  Then about 20 minutes after we take off and the seat belt sign goes off, I see him heading down the aisle, but not the first class bathroom, he went instead to the one all the way back behind where they make the food on the longer flights..

Grappler Dan gives me a bro nod when he saunters by; so after he passes, I wait a few minutes and then get up myself and strut down the aisle to the same bathroom. I give a stealthy two-way glance and slip in after him.  Inside as you can imagine, the bathroom is your typical tiny airplane john.  You think it is small for you normal sized folk, imagine how undersized it is for the Mule at 6’3” 260!  I can barely fit by my lonesome in one of these claustrophobic hells! Now imagine two big musclemen in there, we were wedged in there like sardines!

 heading down the aisle


Further imagine us both trying to get our clothes off , it was like playing a game of vertical twister!  Grappler Dan takes off his wedding ring again.  This just might be a memory enhanced by hindsight, but I will swear he seemed to expand like the Hulk when he took off that thing; I would swear now that he not only got broader … but taller!
















Because we had wrestled in the buff earlier, with our hands all over each other in wrestling holds, I was completely comfortable being naked with him at such close quarters. And close they were - we were standing with the big shelves of my chest stacked against his own powerful plateaus of pecs. Two sets of biceps were bulging and quads flexing as we set out stances. Grappler Dan laughed and said with a cutting tone of challenge: “Before was just a warm up, Mule, let me show you the REAL power I am packing.”  He says "so you bench 455 for a one rep max , huh Mule? Well, big man, you are about to feel what 365 for 16 reps’ strength feels like..." We got 30 minutes man ... you are gonna die in these big arms of mine, Mule...."
"you are gonna die in these big arms of mine, Mule...."

I gave one of my famous Mule sneers, accompanied by a growling snort. I had been in many a bear-hug contest, and was supremely confident that it wasn’t going to be ME, that was bested.

 So it began, the two muscle gods each wrapping massive arms around his intended victim. I feel his big dick on my rock hard abs ... as we were pressed close in our ‘vice-grip off’.  We had wrestled naked all afternoon and he had only got a semi from the charge of adrenaline and testosterone, but now wedged together in vice-like grips, he seemed super-charged with combat hormones and had erected a massive fully hard boner ... that seemed my cue to press my advantage.
Grappler Dan captured in the deadly bone crushing vice grip of the Mule!
Mule  winning the contest!

Grappler Dan uncomfortably found himself captured in the deadly bone crushing vice grip of the blond muscleman, and although the older man was inflicting his share of pain on the Mule, the handsome younger man still felt victory was assured. But when the older man spoke, it was not to concede … "Remember Mule, no screaming ... no matter how much I hurt you ... we don't want the Sky Marshall in here." he managed to hiss in my ear, between grunts.

“WTF!”- I thought, “Hurt me Old man? I am winning this contest!”

Then he locks his hands around the narrowest part of my wide back ... puts his fist right over the juncture of my L5-S1 vertebrae, my jaw almost drops as his chest expands with a seemingly concerted effort of every sinew in his body in league against the Mule.  Bammmmm!!!! He squeezed hard, and it was like the crush of a Burmese python as he dug his fist into my L5-S1 locus.  A huge gush of air rushed from my mouth along with a spray of saliva as I lost a lungful of air in an ape like grunt. As he dug deeper into my spine, I felt excruciating pain shooting down my sciatic nerve like electric shocks administered by a fiendish scientist in some ghastly experiment.  Despite my effort not to, a deep moan was forced out me.

Grappler Dan reverses the bear hug!

Grappler Dan takes charge....


The punishment being inflicted by Grappler Dan was relentless

your Hero hanging on for dear life! 

 This was no longer a challenge of bear-hugs, but a one-sided vice, with your Hero hanging on for dear life! My green eyes felt like they were being squeezed out of their sockets like toothpaste. At this point all I was seeing were white spots!

I felt the pain radiate up and down my body, spiraling down into my glutes, through the back of my legs, into my calves and then feet, so that my lower extremities rioted with pain for a moment, before both of my big legs go numb.

Meanwhile in the other direction, it was like the amusement park machine where a sledgehammer is applied to a trigger, and a weight shoots up and rings a bell. Well, the Mule had his bell rung for sure!
Grappler Dan continued to give the Mule a taste of that vaunted power he had been boasting about.  It was not a bluff, it was real, and it was being skillfully and ruthlessly applied to crush your blond hero’s mammoth muscle-bound body to smithereens … the Mule’s carcass hammered against the muscular anvil of Dan’s own rock hard physique. The Mule felt his muscles surrendering one after another, in a chain reaction of destructive submission. Mule bit into his own tongue as he struggled against the pain!

The punishment being inflicted by Grappler Dan was relentless.  Dan flexed his cannonball biceps; and they sunk into my sides compressing my ribs ... my arms dropped and hung uselessly at my side ..."Ffff...uck man...”  was all I managed to groan. Pressing our muscle-bound bodies together, Grappler Dan-- grunting with glee … slowly, ever so slowly, he built up the pressure, deliberately prolonging his savage torture.

"Yeah, I know ... you feel my power waxing, Mule ... while yours wanes" he grunts back.   Grappler Dan continuously poured on more pressure.  My mighty back and ribs were being systematically softened up for the kill.  My breathing was being constricted, air prevented from entering into my mountainous chest.  A helpless Mule was feeling his stamina being drained from his great body as his head rolled about his thick bull neck.

And indeed his crush was only gaining in strength and intensity, while my whole body grew weaker.  Grappler Dan had, by now, became totally aroused, as he took complete control of the Mule, showing me how it felt to be bear hugged without mercy.

He lifted me up and dropped my big muscled butt into the metal sink ... My neck felt like rubber-forcing me to rest my chin on his shoulder while he continued compressing me like a trash compactor.  I can take a great deal of pain, I am no slacker in that department, but this had gotten so bad, I wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to stay conscious.

My chin slipped off his shoulder as my neck hung over his back like a slinky, my jaw fell slack, my mouth lay open … drool dribbling out of its corners and down his back. I started to go in and out of consciousness ... if felt like my ribs were going to splinter into shards any second ... I was totally helpless and … under HIS control ..."You are no match for me, Mule,” gloated the mighty muscleman. “I can crush the life out of you!” The squeezing force of Grappler Dan was unbelievably powerful. I felt like I was dying in his incredibly strong arms … arms that were steadily, inexorably driving me toward submission and ignominious defeat.

Mule fans know that a victorious bear hug is the greatest demonstration of a man’s supremacy. The epitome of one man dominating another, and sad to say, by this point, the Mule was as dominated as a man can be.

Then I began to feel the emotions of all those men that I had bested.  The sheer uncontested power he now held over me, and corresponding breaking of my body, brought a corresponding crushing of my pride. Overmatched by Grappler Dan, I began to feel submissive … drawn to his victorious power like a moth to the flame.  I actually began to fall for my torturer … the more he hurt me the hornier I got ... I was man-crushing seriously on this powerful alpha male that was dominating me.  It was the bromantic thirst all males feel when confronted by the superior power of another man.  It is a mixture of hero-worship, envy-fueled desire and a hunger to share that power, even if only in yielding to it. Plus battle is a sexually stimulating situation, as all contests of power are. Other alphas might not tell you this, but such is the reality. The Mule is so comfortable in his own skin that he doesn’t care if some of you lesser men might misconstrue this and hate on the Mule.

Grappler Dan understood all this, as my cock engorged, its long thick shaft pressing against my conqueror.  He smiled knowingly.  He was inside my head.  He had won.  He knew it and I knew it.  He owned me.  He released his hold, taking a moment to admire his brutal work as I slumped helplessly. He stepped a baby step back, as that was all he could manage in the cramped space.   I leaned backwards, sitting on the toilet with my immensely broad back against the sink mirror, struggling to catch my breath as I wrapped my massive arms around my huge battered and bruised chest while gasping for air.

 "Too bad I can’t fuck you, Mule, but I’m a married man..." he said smiling as he put his wedding ring back on. When he said we could not fuck, I actually felt an aching pang of disappointment.  I had fallen hard.

He struck a naked "superman pose" - hands on hips - my dilated eyes hungrily take it all in.   Grappler Dan's physique was just plain breathtaking, his proportions just about perfect. Broad-shouldered but narrow waist, his powerful figure was iron-muscled as the best of the ancient Roman gladiators must have been muscled … it told at a glance … enormous strength!  My eyes skimmed the graceful lines of the strongly sinewy legs that had the definition of fine marble sculpture. I scanned the laddered abdominals that flowed seamlessly to his huge stiff, erect and swollen dick … my eyes slid back up to the massive pecs and big arms that were more than a match for my own, then my gazed fixed on the handsome head upon those broad shoulders. The strong jaw was slightly stubbled.

 "Take a long, long look Mule ... so you can jack off to this later
  “It is no dishonor to be bested by me!”

Mule: Defeated but initiated 

  "Take a long, long look Mule ... so you can jack off to this later ... you know you won’t be able to stop yourself from rubbing one out – during the rest of the flight and beyond … because you’ll be thinking of all of this“ … he flexed and  preened muscularly. “I will even email you some pics ..."
I looked at him with the same longing expression that I had seen directed to me so many times. My brain was awash with so many endorphins that for a moment I couldn’t feel the throbbing pain of my body,  my body responded appropriately so that both our cocks were once again like flagpoles.
“You should feel proud Mule”, you withstood more than any man I have previously initiated into the Mile High Bear-hug Club.  “It is no dishonor to be bested by me!”

With that we did some maneuvering allowing him to take a piss, he drains his huge hose like a race horse, still radiating gloriously from his triumph, and my own hose throbbed.  A moment later, it was slightly less erect, enough for me to piss with difficulty, but he waves me off from the shitter.  “Toilets are for victors, use the sink Mule!”.  He gloats while shaking off his huge dong,  as  I comply and my own sizeable  hose unleashes  like a hydrant into the sink.

There is another vertical game of twister as we struggle to get our clothes back on, and pressed up against Grappler Dan, I am back completely erect during the dressing process, entangled as I am with my new idol. He beamed, knowing how I burned for him, like the long line of initiates before me. “Thanks for making it an interesting flight, Mule” he said.  He was pressing his now clothed loins against the fabric of my crotch and an explosion of fireworks went up in my head as the endorphins flowed again firing every synapse in my brain.

With me still in a stupefied haze, he goes out from the lavatory first ... I wait a couple of minutes as I try to clear the Mule brain, then I go.  The walk back was not the bold, triumphant stride that had brought me to the encounter, but a wobbly staggering, hands-bracing-the-seats struggle that seemed to take an excessively long time.  No doubt I seemed airsick to the handful of awake passengers, save one. Given I looked as pale as a ghost, that was a reasonable assumption.

I finally get back to my seat and settle in, still fixated on the thought of Grappler Dan, intoxicated by his power and dominance.  I am startled out of my reverie by an attractive flight attendant, who is bringing me a blanket.

I am still a bit ‘punch drunk’ from the bear hug, so have trouble processing this. Flight attendant sees my confusion and she explains: “That gentleman said you needed it“ … I look up the aisle and see Grappler Dan flash a smug grin.

I just tell her, “Yeah I guess I do!”

Wrapped in the blanket, I reach a big paw into my pants, unseen by neighboring eyes and begin to stroke my great fuck pole, as I play the excruciating and yet exhilarating ‘bear hug/lavatory’ encounter over and over again in my head like a video loop.

Later when I was leaving the plane Grappler Dan handed me the business card of a good chiropractor in Denver.  On the back was scrawled: Welcome to the Club! Membership has its privileges, give him my name for a 15% discount on services.