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 tank-top 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 tank-top.  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 tank-top. 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 ...when 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 tank-top 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” ("wah da fuk is a duvet?"-- I'm 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 laugh....as 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?