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 by 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 he's 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 10 p.m., 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!

Both bodybuilders were locked together, each straining, our
 naked muscles quivering and straining

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 your Mule, this 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!”

We were standing on our toes, face to face, pecs and abs boring into each other. 'Haaaaahhhhh...you are strong, Mule, but I am stronger! You will be mine!' boasted Grappler Dan. 

'Huuuhhhhh..I'm kicking your ass, dude!' came my response. 

Dan's reply was immediate -  he locked  his clasped hands into the small of my back, causing me to gasp in pain.  I flexed my intercostals and lats to resist the squeeze. Now both bodybuilders were locked together, each straining, our naked muscle glutes quivering and straining.  

We were standing on our toes,
 face to face, pecs and abs boring into each other

Then Dan adjusted the lock his hands had around the narrowest part of my wide back. He 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.

'Haaaaahhhhh...you are strong, Mule, but I am stronger! You will be mine!'

Grappler Dan reverses the bear hug!

Grappler Dan takes charge....

The punishment being inflicted by Grappler
 Dan was relentless

'Grruuuuuh....ggggrrrraaaahhhh.....hhhhrrrrgggghh!!' The animal-like grunts and gasps began escaping from my mouth, loudly.

Suddenly Dan locked his lips on mine, forcing his tongue past my lips wrestling my tongue with his own.  The forced kiss muffled my grunts and groans of pain as the mutual bearhug continued. Bulging pec-nipple against bulging pec-nipple, rippling muscle gut  against rippling muscle gut, massive thigh against massive thigh, and horse-sized cock against horse-sized cock, each fought to overpower the other; our musclebuns quivered and jerked as our anaconda cocks wrestled. Our tight gripped hands pressed into each other's straining backs; our bulging pecs flexed into each other. Our heads separated as I fought for breath, the strain and exertion showing in my eyes and flushed faces,  'GRAAAAHHHH!! OOUFF!! OUFF!! OUFFF!!' Deep masculine groans of pain that I could not hold in echoed in the tiny space. Dan once again locked out lips and tongues together to silence me. Our heaving, muscular bodies shone and gleamed with sweat, moulding into each other as slowly but surely Dan crushed me into defeat!

This was no longer a challenge of bear-hugs, but a one-sided vise, with your Hero hanging on for dear life! My green eyes felt like they were being squeezed out of their sockets like toothpaste out a tube. 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 high striker 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!

...your Hero, hanging on for dear life! 

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 in the sink with my immensely broad back against the 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.

  “It is no dishonor to be bested by me!”

 "Take a long, long look Mule ... 
so you can jack off to this later..."

Mule: Defeated but initiated 

 "Take a long, long look at my body, Mule ... so you can jack off when you think about me  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 nude pics for your meat beating sessions ...it may be a few weeks before you can jerk one out without thinking of me...but don't worry...eventually you will be attracted to girls again..."

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 sizable  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 I 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 fuckpole, 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.