Vignette: Bodybuilder Bash

2015 Was the best blog year to date

BUT JUST WAIT!

Welcome to 2016: The Year of the Mule 

THINGS I KNOW:

NYE second only to Feb 14 as one of the most challenging days of the year in terms of harem management... 

From poster advertising the Bodybuilder Bash

Each spring, I throw a huge Bodybuilder Bash at my “mansion” Casa del Mule. Only bodybuilders and cardio bunnies are allowed to attend, and they are flown in from all over the world to be there…o.k. I exaggerate a “tad”. they be from all over the Triangle. This year, I was determined to make it the most legendary of them all, and I think it’s safe to say I succeeded.

I called up Optimum Nutrition about their bulk rate for whey and had them bring in two dump-trucks full of protein powder, which was dumped on my front yard. Also, I called up a supplement company in Ukraine, makers of a top secret Creatine which is 700% more volumizing than creatine monohydrate.

Each bodybuilder who showed up was required to bring with him a minimum of 10 cardio bunnies. I sent my MAIN girlfriend out of town with her friends (who were doing double duty as my side chicks) for the weekend. This was some opportunity for Mule to explore some greener pastures.

The party was a huge success. I was sick of going out to the club and seeing AFC’s* in Abercrombie t-shirts and flip flops with 12 inch biceps peeking out. No, this was different. Everyone was sledding down the mountains of whey and having a good time. Lex gave me a thumbs up before crushing up some ZMA pills and snorting them off a random cardio bunny’s tits.

Lex: Your muscles must be this big to get in this party.
 Beat it AFC!

I lat flared it over to the bar area (I hired a bartender for the night’s festivities) “Creatine and vodka, on the rocks” I snarled at him. He reached under the bar and pulled out a jar of CELL-TECH. I grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him off the floor. “I want the good stuff. Get that shit out of here.”  He nodded and meekly managed to whimper out a “Yes, Sir” as a stain spread down his pants leg.  “Fucking clean yourself up, Dude, you are a frickin’ disgrace.”   “Yes Mr. Mule, yes Sir” he squeaked obsequiously.  The bartender was a guy with 15 inch biceps, imagine my effect on 12s!

At this point I was approached by a smokin’ hot cardio bunny. “Mistah Mule, I presume” she said in a sultry Eastern European accent. “I hear you are zee Alpha Male, no?”

Me: “You heard correctly.”

CB: “I am so very thirsty. Vould you get me a drink?”

Now, any AFC* off the street would have fallen for this, but not Mule. I knew her game; there’s very few of them in the world but it was obvious I was dealing with an Alpha Female, very rare (less than .001% of human females are Alpha Females). This was obviously a fuck test.

Me: “Get it yourself. I’ve got a party to attend to.” I walked away from her and climbed into the hot tub with another group of 7 or 8 cardio bunnies, who proceeded to feel on my 19 inch pythons. The Alpha Female, after getting her beverage, joined me in the jacuzzi.  The other CBs were mean mugging her with dagger eyes.

AF: “You have zee big arms, Mistah Mule.”

CB3: That is Lord Mule, show some proper respect- sniped one of the CB randoms

AF: “My apologies Lord Mule, I meant no disrespect for zee man wid zee bulging biceps!”

Me: “Pretty big jugs you got yourself, cupcake.”

AF: “Aye. I hate zis music. Vould you mind going to zee DJ and requesting a change for me?”

I raised my eyebrow. A second fuck test? I really was dealing with an Alpha Female. “You don’t like the fuckin’ music, go ask yourself. What do I look like, a fuckin’ AFC* here?” I snarled at her.  I then began seriously making out with not one, not two, but three of the random CBs, completely ignoring the Natasha.

About a half hour later, she approached again. “Lord Mule, I vant to get it on now. Meet me in zee upstairs bedroom and you can put it in my ass.”

To your AFC* off the street, he would jump at the opportunity. But I could see this was a THIRD fuck test, and a very good one at that, which can be executed only by ELITE Alpha Females.

I pulled her close to me and spoke right into her face, close enough that she could smell the natty PB and tuna fish on my breath. “Look. If I give you the pleasure of sleeping with me, it’s gonna be on my terms, when I want it, how I want it, what positions I want it. Got that SWEET CHEEKS?”

She jumped into my arms. “Amazing! You are ZEE first to pass all three of my FUCK tests. PLEASE FUCK me, LORD MULE, I beg you!” We went at it for about an hour in the pool house.

FAF:  (hearts spinning around her head)  “Oh my Lord Mule. We are perfect for each other. Alpha Male, Alpha Female, it’s a match made in heaven! Let’s get married and have children! I want you, only you forever more. There is no one for me but LORD MULE!”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This supposed Alpha Female had turned AFC* and lost most of her accent within a matter of minutes. “What do you want from me? Diamond earrings? A gold ring that says ‘Mrs. Mule?”. I lit up a cigar. “You want a minivan so we can pick up the kids at soccer practice, take ‘em to Denny’s? You’re looking in the wrong place, cupcake.”

FAF: “But Lord Mule, I love you! I need you, I would die without you!”  She had hearts in her eyes, and the stench of stage 5 clinger about her.

I took a puff of my cigar. “Look baby. We’re different people. You want a white picket fence and a garden, I want wife beaters, cardio bunnies, fast cars, big pythons, crowbars. It wouldn’t work.”

I threw on my aviators and flared my lats.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a party to attend to.” I walked back to the party while she sobbed softly in the pool house looking around for cutting tools for her wrists.

I was making out with this hot random CB who had taken to licking my face. When suddenly I woke up on the floor, Mongo’s pitbull Fang was licking my face.  Well at least it wasn’t Mongo licking my face. The place was seriously trashed, musclemen and sloots were passed out all over the place and the joint was littered with pizza boxes, red plastic Dixie cups, used condoms and scattered articles of clothing.  It might not have been the party as visualized in my alcohol-inspired dreams, but it looks like it was just as much fun.  If only I could remember it, and that God damn guy would stop jackhammering my head.

****************************************************************************

AFC: Please go out with me, please, pretty please 

Bish: I wonder what MULE is doing, 

I should text him...

*AFC (from Urban Dictionary)

Average Frustrated Chump: A guy who lacks skills, and confidence when it comes to women.  He will often end up in the “friend zone” because he obeys girls like a slave.  An AFC in a bar with gorgeous women who sit in the corner, and ask himself “why aren’t they coming up to me.”  When he should be going up to them, but won’t, because he lacks confidence.

Musings from Valhalla: This is sort of the underlying theme of this blog

 Most of my Blog stories are also on the same theme!

Vignette: Can't Win Them All:Salad Toss

ORIGINALLY POSTED MARCH 23, 2007

This new chick is pretty hot., she lets me piitb and let's just say she could squirt some slut-butter from just a change in wind direction-- Iswear. So I'm in the shower with the girl this morning and I'd been hammering her in the can lots of the night. 

Incorrectly, I assumed that she's return the favor one of these days (thought she dropped a hint the other day, but I was obviously wrong). After I got done with some doggy, I politely asked her if she had any interest in licking my butt. In what had to be the most awkward moment in recent memory for me, she just looked at me and said real loud: "What?!" 

I wasn't prepared for the resistance from a five star sloot, and I cowered down, and didn't ask for a cornhole kissing again. Obviously my follow up was horrible. How do I get her on board with this?

Here's the problem. It was her birthday and I spent huge bucks at the fancy  "Italian" restaurant Olive Garden-- then we got drinks and sucked face in the bar, I sniffed her ass a bit then started dry humping her till they asked us to leave, 

Shitty food at affordable prices:
Plus ENDLESS BREADSTICKS!

So we went to her place and then we porked like there was no tomorrow. I blindfolded her and was feeding her strawberries and chocolate, and creme-filled donuts and sexy stuff like in those 'After Hours' movies on 'Skin-a-max'. She ate chocolate off my abs, -- following the trail of Hershey kisses down to my loins before she gave my chocolate coated donger a blowjob. She even told me she loved me! Even THEN, I couldn't get my manhole tossed. Such failure. I am a beaten man right now...

Fellaz, LISTEN UP. It isn't the feeling you get that makes getting your ass licked worth it. It's the idea that a ho' would degrade themselves into licking a hairy beast of an area .I mean licking a ho's ass is one thing, slightly more groomed, and usually us guys demand a shower beforehand. However, I have routinely gotten hoez to lick my poop hole without even a wipe to clean out. And man they do it with a damn smile on their face. That is why I like it, I make these hoez believe ( brainwash, traumatize, call it whatever) that this is their sole reason to exist.

Besides girls poop out their buttholes too and we happily munch and hammer them with our sticks. Contrary to what they want you to believe, girls' buttholes don't smell like flowers and taste like candy. 

When you've done everything, you are always looking for some spice in the sack. I like to know that when I'm steering her down there with my hands on her head that with one little twist and I can snap her neck as well, so maybe it's a dominance thing, but that's another subject altogether I guess.

So why won't this babe give me some rimming? I'm just trying to maximize my pleasure in the bedroom. I licked her butt without any hesitation. Why can't she just be a decent person and return the favor? Not too much to ask, especially since I took her out for her birthday and spent some serious coin. Also, once she tosses my manhole, then I know she's my girl and not some floozy. 

Makes perfect sense in my eyes. It's not like I'm some kind of pig or anything, I wipe real good and I'd gladly trim my ass hair if that's an issue. I'd even consider jamming a Tic Tac up there just because I'm a decent guy or even spray some Binaca on there to freshen things up for her. 

But if she really wants me to keep coming back, she's gonna have to stick that pretty face of hers between my huge over-muscled ass cheeks and pucker up 

******BREAKING NEWS UPDATE! ******

Got a small lick out of her last night. I don't think she really enjoyed it though. I was a little "swampy" in the crack because we went out clubbing and whatnot and I had been commando in my jeans all night. She was sucking my balls and I just pushed her head down there. It only lasted about 5 seconds. Well, its a start, next time its tongue in the bung!!!

Otherwise, hot as she is, I am voting her off the island. 'cause this is the broken straw on the camel's back and there are plenty of sloots in the sea--at least for ME!

Musings from Valhalla: Listerine

 FIRST PUBLISHED DECEMBER 6, 2006

It's time I gave Listerine the praise it deserves. Listerine is a man's mouthwash. It's hardcore. It gets in your mouth and it fucks shit up. It burns like a bitch, but that's how you know it's working. Having tried Listerine, I can't use a mouthwash that doesn't set my mouth on fire with the flames of a thousand suns. Listerine is the dominatrix to my submissive. It hurts me, but it does it because it loves me. It's fondest desire is to charge into my mouth, napalm in hand, and flush out every last goddamn germ and bacteria in the name of Our Lord Jesus Christ, amen. Listerine is without mercy, pity or empathy. It believes in total war. It is Bruce Lee with nunchucks against 32 dudes in white. 

I saw a commercial for new, "less intense" Listerine.  Fuck that shit. If you try to sap Listerine of it's awesome power, it's going to come to your house in the middle of the night and kick you in the nuts until you start to like it. If you can't handle it you might as well castrate yourself and go cry in a corner you little pussy. 

Here's to Listerine:

LEARN MORE ABOUT THIS AMAZING PRODUCT!

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Listerine

ROLL EXIT THEME:

Musings from Valhalla: Damn Stereotypes

Originally posted March 23, 2007

If it looks like you work out, people assume that you have a toughguy attitude and you beat people up for no reason and that your on steroids. O.K with me there is a certain amount of truth in all of that, but still they shouldn't assume it.

STEREOTYPES ARE BAD! MKAY?

Girls usually assume:

1. I'm good in bed: O.k that one is true.

2. Good dancer:Well in actuality it is more like my rippling muscles make any move I make look damn good.

3. I'm cocky:  True, but I prefer to to think of it as Viking Berserker Confidence

4. I'm on roids:  Now c'mon look at this complexion I got going on!

Guys usually assume:

1. I can kick their ass:  Yeah, that is most definitely true!

2. I'm cooler than them: Can confirm!

3. I'm strong as hell: Can confirm!

4. I'm on 'roids: Say that just one more time cupcake and I'm going to fuckin' rip off your balls and slap you unconscious with them!!! ..umm.... And have a nice mutherfuckin' day!

When it comes to the authorities, I'm not saying my size makes me any tougher, but authorities always seem to have harsher punishments on the bigger guy, it's a fact.   So I get TSA Officer Smith feeling my balls every time I go to the airport...O.k...you are really lingering far too long down there Officer Smith...and what the fuck is with the gloves... this guy can relate...

 and at the clubs the bouncers are outside with their elastic bands doing curls and trying to size me up as I go in ...did I ever tell you just how much I hate bouncers?...or how many of them I have beaten up?

Finally since I have big porn sized muscles, people think I have a big, porn-sized dick, which coincidentally is also true!  

But stereotyping is bad...mkay?

Musings from the North Pole: Hope Y'all Had a Merry Christmas

                                       

Were visions of protein shakes, dancing in your heads?

Time to get back in the gym!!!!

MUSINGS FROM VALHALLA: Happy Holidays!

FROM ALL THE GANG AT MULESBLOG 

TO OUR DEVOTED READERS!

Are you pumped for Christmas?

LOOKS LIKE MULE IS GETTING PROTEIN FROM SANTA AGAIN THIS YEAR!

I have to get to Mule's house fast,
if I am late he beats the crap out of me!

SEE Y'ALL AFTER THE HOLIDAYS!

MULE v. The Confederate Army: A Mule and Mongo adventure

How Mule won the final battle
of the Civil War
and struck these colors!

Back in college, my best buddy was a guy nicknamed Mongo.  One day we were at the Shoney’s on Hillandale when I hear Mongo sucking in air like he hit vacuum,

and a waitress with a sultry voice sayin’:

“What can I get for you big boys?”  I looked up to see the most beautiful goddess ever to grace a family restaurant.  Now usually when we out at a place like this, me and Mongo just hand back the menus and say, "Yes……" but with this beauty, I know we were going to take our time, ordering just a few items at a time to keep her coming back.  The way she lingers and drinks in my muscles with her eyes, the more I can tell she is as intensely attracted to me as I am to her.

Mongo and I were definitely smitten, although Mongo, God love him, had no game, and Mule as you know puts other men to shame.  

This southern beauty’s name was Harper, because her Momma loved To Catch a Mockingbird, but everybody called her “Scout” for obvious reasons.   I know from the look in her eyes that she wanted me, and I ached for her.  Still despite being on my A-game and serving up my sure fire never fail lines, and taking opportunities to flex muscles invitingly in ways that had other chicks swooning, this fish was just not taking the bait.   Scout was having none of either ME or Mongo.

MULE

No thanks, I have a boyfriend!

Still I was not ready to give up and the more she demurred, the more I was resolved that I MUST have her.  Mongo wanted her too, but his infatuation was manifest in him being tongue tied and awkward.  We kept getting the “I have a boyfriend” line as if we had not heard that from scores of girl’s we had fucked, sometimes even while we were fucking them.  So this Shoney’s came to be our new “hangout spot” as I continued to redouble my efforts at pursuit, while Mongo stuttered, sputtered and drooled imbecilically into his fries, looking like he had downs syndrome in his unrequited affection for Scout.

Scout while generally ignoring Mongo, was constantly flirting with me as we returned again and again in our obsession over the Trailer Park Queen.  Still just as I thought I was making headway, the door swung shut again with the “I have a boyfriend” line that was growing increasingly tedious.  “Tell me sweet cheeks, is your boyfriend as good-looking and jacked as me?” I said pulling an impressive double bi.  I could tell from the way she blushed a bright scarlet, that the answer was a definite no.   When she was able to compose herself she remarked that Jake was big and mean, and he was not going to like me hounding after her the way I was.  I was undecided who she was trying to convince more: herself or me. 

I found excuses to brush her bangs to the side, slip my big hands around her waist, take her hand in mine when she went to collect the menus and smooch it like some exotic French gentleman.

She could of easily avoided all of these encounters…but she elected not to…she was clearly enjoying my attentions.  Yet she never let her feet step over the threshold and allow me to sweep her off her feet and carry her away…well that is not quite completely accurate, I did once take the opportunity to sweep her off her feet and carry her like Tarzan out the door, while she giggled and feebly, and unconvincingly asked me to put her down, but once outside she began to get more assertive, saying “You want to get me fired, Mule”, but never during all these overt advances did the topic of Jake come up except as an afterthought after she allowed me quite a few liberties, and the liberties were lasting longer and longer.  I could taste the sizzle of victory. I was increasingly confident I would get Scout in the sack.

I guess she was sensing it too and panicked, because near closing time, as Mongo and I lingered on as the last customers of her shift, she let me know that:

“Jake is on his way, I texted him about you two, and he and his boys are coming to teach you a lesson!”

Scout was clearly expecting this would get us both to skedaddle, removing the Mule-temptation from her life once and for all.

Rather than fleeing, Mongo and I were both eager to meet this “Jake”.  Although he turned out not to be what we were expecting....

The Jake we were expecting.

This clearly distressed Scout, who kept trying to convince us both to leave.  First to spare us from a painful beatdown, and when that line of argument had no traction, she moved on to:  “I don’t want no trouble here, I need this job…”

I was sympathetic to this secondary case, but there was no way I was going to seem like a pussy and hightail it out of there especially when this was a fight both Mongo and I both relished, having had our fill of “I have a boyfriend.”

 Jake and three friends roll up on their bikes all badass, wearing leather jackets with some lame ass confederate battle flag ensign with Harley’s on top of it and words: Confederate Army emblazoned on the back.  Jake is the hugest of the four huge bearded hosses.  The group looked like a ZZ top cover band.

They were big and muscular but not in a lean but more of a heavily marbled way. Brutish biker beasts, not sure why mean, ugly cusses like these managed to attract hot chicks like Scout, but they commonly did.  I suspect it is because a lot of women mistake cowardly bullying for strength, arrogant douchery for confidence, brutality for alphaness and the whole ex-con outlaw thing that has that bad boy appeal that chicks dig. Now sure Mule has some of these negative qualities, but it comes in an endearing, charismatic and purty packaging—so it is not the same thing!!!

These mountain men clowns enter the Shoney’s and Jake locks the door, lowers the shade and flips the sign to ‘closed’. Then, Jake and his posse peel off their jackets to reveal bare barrel chests covered in confederate, Nazi and Aryan Nation prison-style tattoos.   We stand up, and leave the booth, to give ourselves room for maneuver.  Jake and his chief goon lieutenant come for me, and the other two members of his crew go for Mongo.

Jake came at me from the front, while his lieutenant tried to flank me and get my back.  I clubbed the big henchman with a cross: backhanding him with a thrust of my fist, which connected solidly with his face causing his eyes to go cross and the big man to go TIMBER.  With the other hand I sent an uppercut flying like a missile into the underside of Jake’s jaw. Sending the goofball staggering back… I pursue slamming him with a series of left and right hooks so that his head was wobbling back and forth like Faye Dunaway to Jack Nicholson’s slaps in Chinatown.  Then I Goldberg Jackhammered him, and while he was busing identifying stars in the spinning constellations above him, turned to face his lieutenant who was struggling to his feet.  In quick succession:

·     Left Jab to the gut, then right cross to the head.

·     Knee to the gut, then right cross to the head.

·     Left hook to the body. Then a right cross to head

·     Left hook to the head. Then a right cross to the gobber

Then I take him up in a Batista bomb and slam him to the ground and leave him lying unconscious before turning back to Jake.

Mongo takes out Goon #3

I got a glimpse of Mongo connecting with a series of plastic-surgery-requiring-deadly jabs to Goon #4’s face before picking him up and doing a Cena Attitude adjustment on him bodyslamming the battered flunky onto a table, while a bloody Goon #3 was already crawling away from Mongo on hands and knees in agony and terror!  Goon #3’s efforts were futile as Mongo stepped up on the booth seat and came down in a SUPERFLY SPLASH on the hapless biker.

We were like Batman and Robin taking out the hapless henchmen of some super-villain.  I don’t know what prison these guys went to, but if this was the best they could do it was clearly junior varsity…of course perhaps they expected a couple of college jocks to be easy pickings.  Townies do tend to underestimate the fighting abilities of college jocks, even big fucking hosses like Mongo and I.

A groggy Jake rose to his feet and charged me, and I swung up my fist in time for him to impale his face on it.  It went from convex to concave, and a splatter of blood and teeth hit the ground.

Mule’s advice when fighting against foes that outnumber you:

1.      Hulk out (check, check  for both Mongo and I)

2.      Gain, press and keep the initiative  (check, check)

You never want to allow your adversaries to recover and regroup.  These villains were sporting brass knuckles and shit, one misstep and Mongo and I would be toast.   Thus we kept up at an exhausting no-pause onslaught.

3.      Be merciless! (check, check)

These were ex-con fighters which meant dirty, no holds barred brawling, they didn’t just give you a drubbing, these were the kinds of guys that put you in the hospital or in the morgue.  You must take the fight to them relentlessly and without pity. That means kicking, punching, biting, and eye-gouging.  We would slam heads onto or into tables and walls whenever any of the gang made even the semblance of recovery.

At last the four bikers lay in a muscular heap on the floor, none of them moving, or making a sound.  These four bloody mounds of battered flesh were all still breathing…which we determined when we taking trophies: collecting an array of brass knuckles, saps, knives, etc. which they never got to use on us.  We also collected their biker jackets.  As Scout got the blood mop and wiped up the blood and shattered teeth, we helped her close up, hauling out the trash (including the Bikers) out into the dumpster.

I could see that the threshold had been crossed with Scout and there were no longer any obstacles to her finally surrendering to me…and to Mongo.  She was looking at us both like a fat kid looks at cake.  Watching us beat the Confederate army had really got her horned up hotter than Hades.

We all get in our vehicles and follow Scout to her doublewide in the Euglina Junction Park and there we take turns having Rough Rider sex with Harper (Scout).   Now usually it is Mule policy that there never be more dicks than chicks in such entanglements, but we gave each other space and there never was danger of our light-swords crossing.  We took turns plying her fore and aft, her savory body between us.  Mongo had earned his shot after all.

Was the sex worth the risk that the fight could have gone the other way?  Well you betcha!  I have been with quite a few women since that time, and I barely remember their faces and probably never learned most of their names, much less retained them, but I can still see her beautiful face and I know her name.  That girl knew how to shake, rattle and roll!  Not only was she a good fuck, allowing us first to tear up her pussy, as well as piitb, but she also was a champ in the cocksucking department.  The girl was like a hoover!  Note to self: Do more hot biker chicks.  

Had lots of fun not only with her mouth, anus and pussy, but also waterboating and slurping on her large titties.  She kissed and caressed ever muscle on our big brawny bodies, and  fucked and sucked us both into submission and a few hours later while we were both laying there like spent forces, she made sammitches for us.  Needless to say we were frequent return customers after that (albeit each of us visiting her solo) and she always gave us service with a smile.  Our infatuation lasted for another month for me, and seven weeks for Mongo, where upon the evolutionary call for fresh pussy won through and greener pastures were pursued.

A couple of years later I  was reading in the “News and Observer” that the Rev. Jake Matthews and His Angels on Two Wheels were conducting a prayer breakfast to help underprivileged kids in the area or some shit like that, apparently after the beating Jake and the boys had FOUND JESUS.  Hallelujah!

The Confederacy surrenders!

ROLL EXIT THEME: