#maga go home

[mugiwara-lucy]

Well look at Mr. Protector of Women 😂

Seriously....HOW did you miss his BIG FAT HEAD THREE TIMES???????

Ugh.

In Eight Days we have a chance to be rid of him for GOOD so like I say.......Knock on doors, send emails/post cards, call friends/family and most of all V-O-T-E!! And get EVERYONE you know!!

[cyarsk5230]

Oh, fuck her too! That’s why her solo career never popped! And she was a terrible judge on the American version of the X factor too

[angelart67]

I MEAN, COME ON... GEN X IT'S QUITE OBVIOUS... HEH HEH

[zooted-puppy]

How do I still have three hours of work left. Someone sedate me.

[garaviel]

I guess at least im getting paid to have a big ol cry in the work bathroom!

[angelart67]

YEP, & I WANT HIM TOO... IF ANYONE BOTHERS TO LISTEN TO THE MAN, HE MAKES 100% SENSE... ALL THE BLUBBERING LIBS, GOING ON ABOUT THIS FAMILY SEPARATION BS ARE BEING BRAINLESS, NOT COMPASSIONATE... IF THEY SKIPPED ACROSS OUR BORDER ILLEGALLY, THEY WERE QUITE AWARE THEY WERE DOING IT, & THAT ACT DECIDED THEY GET WHAT THEY GET IN THE END... JUST LIKE MR. HOMAN STATES, YOU CAN LOOK AT HOW OUR LAWS WORK FOR AMERICAN CITIZENS, & IT IS EQUAL... IF A PARENT DRINKS & DRIVES WITH THEIR KIDS IN THE CAR, THEY KNEW THEY SHOULD NOT DO SO, THAT DRINKING & DRIVING & PLACING CHILDREN AT RISK ARE CRIMES... SO POLICE PULLS THEM OVER, KIDS GET TAKEN AWAY, CAR GETS IMPOUNDED, DRUNK GOES TO JAIL, THEN COURT, JUDGE REVOKES LICENSE, CHILDREN BECOME WARDS OF THE STATE... NOBODY SAYS WAAA WAAA WAAA DON'T SEPARATE THIS FAMILY, IT IS MORE LIKELY, THANK GOD SOMEONE STEPPED UP, BEFORE THESE POOR KIDS WERE KILLED... SO ILLEGAL IMMIGRATION SAME THING, JUST A DIFFERENT CRIME, COMMITTED IN A DIFFERENT WAY, BY A DIFFERENT PERSON... IF THEIR FAMILY DOES GET SEPARATED, IT IS THEIR OWN FAULT FOR BREAKING THE LAW TO BEGIN WITH... DEPORT THEM TOGETHER IF IT IS SO MIND BENDING, MINOR KIDS BELONG WITH MOM OR POPS, SO BUHBYE... BACK OVER THE WALL YA GO... DO IT LEGALLY, OR LIVE WITH THE CONSEQUENCES... THESE ILLEGALS PUT THEIR OWN KIDS AT RISK, WHEN THEY BREAK THE LAW TO ENTER ILLEGALLY... NUFF SAID ❤️🤍💙

Just something to think about this Saturday morning!!

This is Tom Homan, who President Trump wants to be in charge of the border!!

[boyhooters]

i love cows. i so glad they are becomineg sentient autonomous and VIOLENT!!!! HELL FUCKIN YES

[nevermind-i-forgot-whats-that]

Sometimes, as much as I love internet communities and spaces, I really think a lot of people have spent so much time in sanitized, morally pure echo chambers that they lose sight of realism and life outside the internet.

I live in Alabama. My fiancée and I cannot hold hands down the street without fear of homophobic assholes. We have an abortion ban with no exceptions for rape or incest. We are one of the poorest states in the US with some of the lowest scores on metrics related to quality of life, including maternal mortality, healthcare, education, and violence. It’s not a coincidence that we are also one of the most red, one of the most Republican states in the Union. In 2017 the UN said the conditions in Alabama are similar to those in a third-world country.

Trump gave a voice to the most violently racist, sexist, xenophobic groups of people who, unfortunately for most of us in the Southern U.S., run our states and have only grown more powerful since his rise to power. The Deep South powers MAGA, and we all suffer for it.

We have no protections if they don’t come from the federal government.

I know people are suffering internationally and my heart is with them. However, this election is not just about foreign policy - we have millions of Americans right here at home living in danger, living in areas where they have been completely abandoned by their local leaders. We need this win.

No candidate is perfect, but for the first time in my voting lifetime I’m excited to vote. I’m excited for the Kamala Harris/Tim Walz ticket because they are addressing the issues close to home. They’re advocating for education as the ticket to a better life, but without the crippling student debt. They’re advocating for the right to love who you love without fear and with pride. Kamala has always been pro-LGBT+ and so has Tim. Again, if you’re queer in the South, we don’t have support unless it comes from the federal government, and we absolutely will not have support if the Republicans regain the White House.

Kamala speaks in length about re-entry programs to reduce recidivism and help people who have been arrested and imprisoned regain their lives. Tim Walz supported restoring voting rights to felons. In the South, you know who comprise the majority of felons? Members of minorities. It’s one of the major tools of systemic racism and mass disenfranchisement, and arguably the modern face of slavery (there are some fantastic documentaries and books that explain the connection between the post-Reconstruction South and the disproportionate rates of imprisonment for BIPOC). Having candidates who recognize this and want to restore the freedom and rights to people who have come into contact with the criminal justice system? And keep them from having to go to prison in the first place? That’s refreshing. That’s exciting.

I would *love* to live in a country where women’s rights are respected, where LGBT+ rights and protections are a given, where we treat former criminals and individuals experiencing mental health crises with respect and dignity. I would *love* to live in a country where education is free of religious interference and each and every citizen is entitled to a fair start and equal opportunities.

But I don’t live in that country. Millions and millions of Americans find their rights and freedoms up for debate and on the ballot.

Project 2025 poses the largest threat to the future of our democracy as we know it. We are being called to fight for the future of our country.

We have to put on our oxygen masks first before we can help others.

You don’t have moral purity when you wash your hands of the millions of us who are still fighting for own freedoms right here.

The reality is that a presidential candidate is a best fit, and not a perfect fit. But comparatively speaking? Kamala is pretty damn close.

[qqueenofhades]

I think its genuinely fascinating how Biden has somehow become the bad vibes sin eater for the party. I'm seeing people who were doing the whole "voting doesn't matter both old men are the same" pivot hard into voting as harm reduction. The anti voting rhetoric has COMPLETELY lost The Youths on tiktok. People suddenly remember the good things the Biden administration has done but don't associate Harris with any of the things they didn't like. In my swing state volunteers are signing up in droves. People feel ENERGIZED, the vibe shift pre and post Biden dropping from the race has just been insane

Y'know, that is a... good way of putting it. It's also why I'm quite sure that Biden has probably been planning it for a while. I don't think he was intending to step down, and didn't want to be forced out at the drop of a hat, but after he realized that the circus was never going to stop until he did, he did the honorable fall-on-his-own-sword thing and definitely, DEFINITELY spent some time choreographing this behind the scenes. Because while the roll-out has been very smooth, it could just as easily (as many of us were expecting) have been a total disaster, and that doesn't happen without SOME planning. It's also entirely possible that the campaign staff flipped from Biden to Harris are superhuman, to come up with a massive online roll-out, new branding, new signs (they had plenty of 'em in Wisconsin yesterday), new everything, but I'm guessing it's a combination of both. Biden has spent his entire political career being underestimated, and after we literally made a meme out of Dark Brandon juking the Republicans out of their shoes, we should definitely give credit where credit is due in how masterfully he pulled it off.

Because we have had eight years defined by the central question of Whether The President Is a God King Who Should Serve For Life (the MAGAts obviously think yes), the sheer idea of a president willingly giving up his power BEFORE he had to is also novel and admirable. It's sad that this is the case, but so be it. The Republicans also got a heaping helping of Be Careful What You Wish For that was undoubtedly brilliant; they've been yelling for years that Biden is old and frail and can't serve and should step down. Biden went "lol okay" and gave it to them, and now they're fucked.

Aside from that, on the most basic level, it's far, far easier to see the actual difference in the parties with Harris as the nominee, just because it shows that one party is willing to make progress and reflect the new demographic reality and social mores of America, and the other one is not. Now to be clear, Biden deserves an incredible amount of credit for coming out of retirement (he was ALREADY 77 years old when he became president and had had decades of a long and respected career in public service behind him) to fight, beat Trump, and deliver an incredibly successful presidency. He held the line against authoritarianism at home and abroad, he rescued the trashed American economy and managed a world-leading recovery from Covid, he stood up for democracy, he spent four years filling the benches with liberal judges to reverse even some of the Trump/McConnell hack job, he finally passed comprehensive infrastructure investment and the Green New Deal under the name of the Inflation Reduction Act -- and so on. Many of these priorities had been languishing for decades or were completely trashed under Trump, and he could not have done so much in just 4 years without all that age, skill, and experience. Hence why all the Ageism!!! was (aside from being a Republican/media smear job) dumb. He's able to do the job because he has had decades to study. Turns out that makes you actually pretty damn good at it.

Yes, Biden could not do as much as he wanted or originally planned, had to deal with MAGA Republicans and Joe Manchin/Kyrsten Sinema sabotaging him the whole time (lololol Manchin, possible possessor of the World's Biggest Ego and with Trump around that's saying something, popping out of obscurity to self-righteously announce he would not be willing to be Kamala's VP. YEAH ASSHOLE. LITERALLY NOBODY ASKED YOU. NOBODY WHATSOEVER. NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS AT LEAST WE WILL SOON NO LONGER HAVE MANCHIN IN THE SENATE). And yes, Biden made some serious mistakes of his own, because he IS from an older generation and a different style of doing politics/different beliefs that no longer resonate with the younger segments of the electorate. But this old white Catholic guy at the age of almost 80 still managed to be the most progressive president ever, coming in at a moment of incredible domestic and international crisis and getting us safely to the other side, and all cynicism, criticizing, and caveating aside, he deserves an incredible amount of credit for that. I mean that absolutely, and I am very grateful.

As I said, willingly relinquishing that power takes guts, and when Biden saw the writing on the wall that he had to sacrifice himself, he took his time, he didn't jump too early, and he didn't jump too late. On the most basic level, it becomes a hell of a lot easier to make the "both parties are not the same" argument when one is running a (comparatively) young brown woman and the other is still running their loathed felonious old demented orange traitor. Most Americans are not plugged into policy minutiae and details. They look at Biden-Trump, they see two old white guys. When you take one of those old white guys away (who goes in a self-sacrificially heroic manner and in sharp contrast with the coup-happy fascist) and put Kamala Harris in there instead, it generates an obvious jolt. People can see for themselves that there is a real difference that doesn't rely on closely reading news and tracking complex policy, because as noted, most Americans simply don't. The brown first-generation American daughter of brown immigrants is a quantifiably different story from "old white guy career politician," which for better or worse is how Biden was seen, especially the old part. We needed that establishment expertise to beat Trump in 2020; I still think Biden is the only one who could have done it, and as noted, we owe him a great debt for doing so.

However.... 2024 is not 2020, and it is not 2016. There has been this HUGE and unbelievable swing to Kamala because she represents the antithesis of what the last eight years of Trump-induced anger, fear, panic, chaos, and hatred has stirred up. That's why people are so ready to rally around her, just as they were (I daresay) around Obama in 2008, after the exhaustion, chaos, war, and mounting economic misery of Bush. Trump has been out of office for the last four years, but his shadow over the American political landscape has been omnipresent. Now people know that we finally have a real chance at getting rid of him forever, and just as Biden was uniquely positioned to capitalize on that in 2020, so Harris is now. Which is why, however tough it will be, she has a real shot at winning. I can guarantee the Republicans know that, and are shit scared. Because the Black Lady Army of Democracy has indeed arrived in force to Get This Shit Done and I don't know about you, but I found that incalculably comforting:

Yikes! All lined up for Kamala pic.twitter.com/Dt4OCDp7WX

— Alex Cole (@acnewsitics) July 24, 2024

This, at the most basic level, is what scares fascists the most, it's exactly what we need now, and what Harris is uniquely positioned to mobilize, along with her gangbusters appeal to young voters:

This is the energy we need. This is what Biden saw and planned for and which he launched us into, and where all that experience and age paid off. This is why people, even people otherwise disengaged, disillusioned, or checked out of the tedious and mind-numbering drudgery and depression of American politics, are responding to it. Because it's easy to understand, it offers hope, and it tells a very simple story that is nonetheless long overdue:

Thanks so much, Joe. Go absolutely waste that orange fucker, Kamala. We got your back.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Break A Sweat.

Summary: Terry ‘TJ’ Richmond was recommended to you by your brother who is a Marine. He’s now your personal trainer and Krav Maga teacher.

Warnings: SMUT, degradation, nasty talk, rough sex, 18+ content.

This is going to be a two part series. ENJOY!

Terry is a no-nonsense guy. When you’re in his gym, you follow his rules. After all, you’re the one that signed up for self defense one–on–one sessions. The rugged, burly ex-marine, wandering nomad. He’s overly domineering, striking green eyes staring you down unblinking whenever you did something he didn’t like.

“Your form is wrong…I thought we discussed this? Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart and your toes pointed slightly outward…”

“One more set. Let’s go. No days off. You want it? You gotta get it at all costs…”

“If you find yourself in a scary situation and need to defend yourself, you’ll be at a huge advantage if you know exactly how best to react to your opponent — whether or not your moves are fair.”

“You have to become the attacker and defender simultaneously…NOW STRIKE!”

Your older brother recommended Terry Richmond to you when you finally decided to crack down and focus on your overall health and well–being. Although you loved your generous curves, life and longevity were more important. It’s absolutely nothing wrong with being a bountiful beauty and work up a sweat.

Terry held your ankles as you finished your last rep. Your last set of ten. Sweat dripped from every inch of your dark skin. Every muscle was screaming at you. Angry. Your body was angry. You let out one final huff and sat up, slinging your arms over your knees. Terry patted your back.

“Halfway there.” He said, looking down at you as he stood above you.

his chiseled body with biceps the size of your head, shoulders wide enough to emphasize the narrowness of his waist, and veins crawling up his limbs even when the muscles weren’t flexed. He was a mean looking man, like a first impression recruit in the military that’s both respected and feared. Whatever he got into during his days training was truly nothing you’d want to take part in.

To add insult to injury, from the first session within his home gym, you regretted it. Terry didn’t care if it was your first time lifting a dumbbell or using the stair master, when you’re in his gym, you go hard. No ifs, ands, or buts. And that pissed you off. So irritatingly bad.

On a cloudy afternoon, you park your all black Lexus ES within his driveway. Killing the ignition, you relax into the soft leather of your seat, wary eyes glancing at the two car garage. One side of the garage was his home gym. The place you dreaded entering.

Terry’s home is an impressive single–family with a spectacular country setting with quick access to everything. You slowly open the car door, pink and green Hoka sneakers touching concrete. You push yourself up from your seat, large breasts touching your chin because of the sports bra you wore. The warm breeze caused the stray curls that had fallen from your high puff to graze the back of your neck.

Shutting the car door, you ease towards your trunk, skin tight athletic leggings almost giving you a wedgy. You adjust yourself before clicking the button for your trunk on your key fob. It popped open smoothly, revealing your Puma gym bag.

As you grab it, Terry Richmond situated himself within the doorframe of his home, bulging biceps folded over his defined pecs. You catch his eye and quickly avert your gaze because of its intensity.

“How you doin’ Y/N?” Terry greeted.

“I’m doing fine, Terry. Everything good?”

“Yeah. Good to see you still showed up. Thought I’d scared you off.” Terry said.

You glance up at Terry standing on his top steps with his hands on his hips. You do a quick sweep of his body, taking in the way the berry–red tank top he wore molded into his upper body and the thigh–hugging black shorts outlined his crotch and his ass. He had no decorum when it came down to his attire during your sessions and it was distracting to say the least.

“I don’t give up easily,” You respond, trying your hardest to appear confident.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Today you just might…”

He clapped his hands, drawing your attention to how large they are. Anticipation and excitement gnawed at your belly. He was going to touch you with those hands again. It was only the second time, but the sensation would feel like the first time all over again. 

“I’m still recovering from day one. My thighs are burning.” You admit with a nervous smile.

“That’s what comes with the discipline. Have you been stretching?”

Your lips remain sealed. Terry tilts his head at you and with a slight chuckle, he makes a slow descent towards you. The closer he gets, the more you recognize the way his skin appeared bronze from the sun. You focus on his face, his green eyes commanding attention.

“What did I tell you about that, huh? It’s important and unavoidable. You have to stretch frequently, otherwise you’ll end up with stiff joints.”

“I know. I’ll do better.”

“Will you?” Terry countered.

“Yes.”

“So, you know that adds an extra thirty minutes to your session today, right?”

You fight the urge to groan.

“No time to waste then. Let’s get to it.”

Terry leads the way towards his garage. It opens, revealing a well–equipped home gym. You both step inside, the garage door slowly closing behind you. Terry motioned for you to come over and sit your things down.

“How’s work coming along?” Terry asked.

You place your bag against the wall, crouching down to open it with a hiss from the pain in your thighs.

“It’s going. Been putting in overtime.” You replied.

“I’m sure you have a loaded schedule, being a mom and all.” Terry said, waiting patiently for you to finish. He stood with his hands folded over his crotch.

“You learn to adjust, no choice anyway,” You stand, fitting your weight lifting gloves over your fingers, “Can’t complain though, I love my baby girl.”

“What’s her name again?”

“Aria.”

“Pretty. How old is she?”

“She’s four.”

“Wow. I bet she gives you a run for your money,” Terry chuckled.

“Oh yeah. All the time,” You laugh, “So, what now, Mr. Richmond?”

Terry smirked at you, “Stretching. Go ‘head and kick off your shoes. We’ll hit the mat for about thirty minutes before we jump into our basic moves.”

Terry walked away, giving you time to kick your sneakers off. He turns on some music and makes his way over to the thick floor mats situated in front of wall–length mirrors. You join him, stopping in front of him.

“Okay, down on your back.”

You settle on your butt and then relax back until your head touched the mat. Once again, you can’t avoid Terry’s body above you. He lowered to his knees at your feet.

“We’ll start with the hold–relax technique.”

Without warning, Terry straddles your left thigh and instructed for you to elevate your right leg with your foot in the air. Your eyes blinked slowly while staring up at the ceiling, but your body reacted to Terry’s hand on your knee and the other on the heel of your sock–covered foot. Your body hummed with desire. Something you couldn’t control. And if you so much as lift your left knee, you would brush across his crotch. The little voice in the back of your mind told you to do it and see how he’d react, but you ultimately restrained yourself from being too bold. This was a passive pre–stretch, held at a point of mild discomfort for about ten seconds.

“Ready on three. One…two…three—”

You count down ten seconds in your head, still keeping your eyes glued to the ceiling of the garage.

“Good, good,” Terry tapped your knee with his hand, “Think you can go again before we do the next part?”

“Uh–huh,” You replied with a weak laugh.

You brace yourself, palms flat against the mat. Terry does it again and you count down, the aching muscles in your thighs struggling to hold on.

“Well done. Nearly there,” Terry shifted his hips over your left leg, drawing in closer, “Y/N?”

Your gaze snapped down to meet his. You wish you hadn’t. He looked good from that angle. The thin, gold rope chain around his neck dangling in your face. His hazel–green eyes blinking at you, that lush mouth with pink lips and a pink tongue looking inviting—

“Ouch!”

Terry applied a hip flexion force. You squeeze your eyes shut and roll your lips inward tightly.

“Hold and don’t let me move the leg.” Terry ordered.

You hold and resist the movement so that isometric muscle action occurs. After six seconds, Terry allowed you to relax. He slowly lowered your leg and you couldn’t control the tremors, thigh meat jiggling involuntarily. He repeats the same stretch to your left.

“Still with me? That was light work,” Terry chuckled at your death glare, “Hate me now?”

“Very close to hating you,” You giggle but quickly stop because of the pain, “Is the thirty minutes up already?”

“Not even close,” up on his knee, Terry placed his right hip between your legs and his hands around the knee of the target leg, “Let’s do some inner thigh stretching. I’ll start with this leg first…”

Both legs bent comfortably with your feet on the mat, Terry pressed your right leg outward against the resistance and only goes so far as you can resist the movement. You exhale rapidly, the pain so severe that you’re unable to take even, slow breaths.

“You gotta relax for me, Y/N—”

“I can’t do this—”

Terry cuts you off, “Stop saying what you CAN’T DO. Trust me, your body is more than capable. RELAX. Ten more seconds…”

Bastard.

“Three, two, one, okay…”

You sigh, leg quivering. Startled, your right leg jerked from Terry caressing your inner thigh. You lock eyes with him, face growing hot with arousal. He may not have been aware of how this was turning you on, but the throb of your clit told you so.

“One more on this side and then we’ll do the left.”

You roll your eyes, “Terry, this is hard…”

“Bet you’ll stretch more now.”

You bite your tongue. Terry gave you another minute and then he was stretching the right leg again. Shaky breaths escaped your mouth. Terry gently placed your right leg down after thirty seconds and turned towards your left. You close your eyes and turn your head to the side, staring at the mirrors. Your eyes admire the thin material of his shorts spread over his ass. It was enough to distract you from the pain. Just a little. Every major and minor muscle in his body was defined. You were in the presence of an Adonis.

“Are you still with me?”

You blink away from the mirror and nod your head with a smile.

“Okay. One more…”

After the final stretch, Terry allowed you to stand and take a break. He offered you some water and you drink a generous amount. Terry did the same, pacing back and forth with his eyes on you.

He recapped his water, “We’ll do upper body next.”

“Do I have a choice?”

Terry tucked his chin and looked at you with a sly smirk, “I think you know the answer to that question.”

After a few minutes you were on your back again. Terry dropped to his knees above your head and motioned for you to raise your arms. He instructed for you to interlace your hands and keep your legs bent comfortably. Terry leaned over your head and brought your arms upward toward him. Your eyes look up and you’re staring directly between his legs and at his crotch…

“We’ll hold until you can’t anymore. Ten reps…”

“Okay…”

Terry stares down into your eyes. You look back, aware that your cleavage is touching your chin. He blinks away and down the length of your body before bringing your arms down. The closer he gets, the more you can smell almondy tonka bean and citrus wafting from the space between his legs and it caused the hairs on your arms to stand up.

You raise your hands a little too quickly and you almost hit him in the face. Terry’s head swiveled out of the way and he laughed, although you felt embarrassed. It was his fault, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

“I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay. That’s why I lead and you follow.” He spoke evenly with a half smile, “Don’t get too carried away now…”

Your dick smells nice and I want to bury my face between your legs.

“Breathe, almost done, okay?”

“How many reps do I have left, I sort of checked out.”

Terry chuckles, “Three more, Y/N.”

——

Days stretched into weeks.

In neutral stance, she waits for further instructions.

When Y/N exercises, Terry watches her shine like a freshly washed car in the morning light. He moves forward once she’s still, fighting the urge to run his fingers down her arms just like the mirror in his bathroom after a hot shower, always slick with condensation.

The closer he gets, the more he could smell her sweat, a mixture of musk and the deodorant she wore. He grew accustomed to her scent from heavy exertion, craved it the more he’d spent time with her. Terry stopped, staring down at her with domineering eyes. She looked adorable with her serious eyes and look of determination. Her legs are shoulder-width apart and her arms hung by her sides. This position replicates how you would stand when you are unaware of an attack.

Terry circled her body, stopping directly behind her. He didn’t warn her when his large body pressed against her back and his arms pulled her into a bear hug from behind. He pinned her arms to her body, Y/N automatically fighting to break free. Her movements almost knocked both of them off balance, but she was still unable to defend herself from Terry’s tight grip.

“What did I teach you, huh?” Terry spoke between breaths, “drop your weight…drop your weight, Y/N.”

Her ass continued to collide with Terry’s groin. He clenched his jaw to stop himself from grunting. All that plushness within his embrace is exactly what he loved. His type of woman.

Keep it professional.

She dropped her weight with a fast squat. In a wide stance, Y/N shifted her hips sideways to strike his groin with her palm. Y/N lunged forward and elbowed Terry’s stomach before escaping. None of her blows were damaging, but it was enough to free her. Terry watched as Y/N cheered, throwing her arms up and hopping up and down. She was wearing an athletic halter top in hot pink with matching shorts. Her curly fro was frizzy from sweating, some strands falling into her eyes.

Terry couldn’t ignore the bounce of her breasts and the pretty smile on her round face.

“Finally! It took me forever to get that one!” Y/N spoke excitedly.

“You did good. With more practice, you’ll be able to fight me off in no time.” Terry replied.

He gave Y/N two thumbs up before giving her a high–five with both hands. Y/N bent over and braced herself on her knees, trying to steady her breath. Terry grabbed a towel and wiped sweat from his face. Y/N’s pendulous breasts teased his eyes again. The sheen on her cleavage from her sweat made his mouth water.

“What next?”

Terry sat the towel down and pulled his gaze away from her titties just in time for Y/N to look up at him.

“Look at you, so eager,” Terry arched a brow at her, “Where did this energy come from, hm?”

“I’m already on ten, I need an outlet.” Y/N admitted.

“Mind if I ask why?”

Y/N took a seat on a bench. Terry watched her face as stress lines appeared.

“Aria’s father. Just co–parenting issues.” She revealed.

Terry nodded his head in understanding. He didn’t press her to dig deeper, so he gave her some space to calm down before they continued. He’d wondered about Aria’s father and whether or not he and Y/N were still together.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“I am,” Y/N stood, “Let’s finish this.”

They fell back into training some basic Krav Maga moves. Terry grabbed a kick shield so that Y/N could practice kicks. She was getting better since incorporating more mobility stretching.

“There you go! Get that leg up higher!”

“Umph,” Y/N struck the bag with her left foot.

“That was weak,” Terry pushed back, causing Y/N to lose her footing, “what type of kick…”

“Really?” Y/N threw her leg up and with all her strength she hit the shield, “How was that?!”

Terry rocked back on his heels. He looked at Y/N with an unblinking stare as sweat rolled down her face. She tried catching her breath, chest rising and falling faster than usual.

“BETTER,” Terry taunted her by shoving her with the kick shield to provoke her, “But not IMPRESSIVE.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at Terry. Her angry face was so freaking cute. Anything she did was cute to him. Just adorable and fun-sized.

“When will you give me my props, Terry? I’ve been going hard for nearly a month!” Y/N argued.

“When you stop doubting yourself and seeking validation with every little step then maybe I’ll ease up.” Terry fired back.

“You’re insufferable!” Y/N charged him, throwing messy jabs and kicks while Terry held up the shield, “YOU. MAKE. ME. SICK.”

“I make you WHAT?” Terry said, towering over her.

Y/N planted her foot so hard into the shield that she rocked Terry’s equilibrium. He dropped the bag at the same time as Y/N went to kick again, not realizing he’d done so. Terry grabbed her ankle with a vice grip. Y/N hopped on one foot, breath hitching and eyes wide like she’d been spooked.

“Pay attention.”

Terry let go of her ankle and Y/N stood there with shock.

“That kick is what I needed from you. That’s how you do it.” Terry said.

Y/N wiped sweat from her chin and gave Terry a small smile. He returned the smile, one hand reaching out to give her shoulder a squeeze.

“I push you because I see the best in you and I know you can do it,” Terry counted off on his fingers, “Vigilance, empowerment, good instincts, freedom. You gain all those things. It’s important that you take this seriously and you take my training seriously.”

“I understand.” Y/N responded with a sigh.

“But?” Terry bowed his head to stare down at her.

Y/N fidgeted with her short, acrylic french tips. Terry waited for her to find the words to say whatever was on her mind. His fingers itched to tilt her chin up and look him in the eye. When she finally stared up at him through her lashes, Terry held her gaze.

“I want to impress you. I seek validation because I want to make you proud, Terry.” Y/N admitted with a small voice.

Her thoughtful words warmed his heart and his eyes. His gaze softened as he watched her pretty brown eyes drop to his chest then down to her hands again. Terry’s hands grasp her shoulders. He leaned in and tilted his head to meet her gaze.

“I am proud of you, Y/N. You’ve impressed me with how easily you learn and grow. I just want you to embrace the challenges with a confidence boost.”

“Thank you,” Y/N replied with a bashful laugh, “I’m sorry I kirked out on you.”

“No need to apologize,” Terry straightened his back, “Just don’t let it happen again.”

Y/N parted her lips to speak but no words came out.

——

You pull up to your brother’s rancher, parking behind his pick–up truck. The sound of children playing filtered from behind the home, carrying you there and past the iron gate. You catch a glimpse of your daughter and her multi–colored braids swaying as she ran to kick a soccer ball. Her cousin who’s slightly older than her, Madison, ran behind her with a big smile and pig tails falling into her eyes.

You stop to watch with a smirk as your daughter kicks the ball, missing the goal as it rolled in the grass. Madison took the lead and sped past Aria, aiming for the opposite goal. Aria started having a temper tantrum, stomping her little feet and scrunching her face. Madison kicked the soccer ball into the goal and it collided with the net.

“I did it! I did it!” Madison cheered.

Aria glowered at her older cousin. You make your way over to her, Aria noticing you and her frown turned into a big, toothy grin. She ran the rest of the way towards you, wrapping her tiny arms around your neck. You squeeze her, pressing your nose into her hair that smelled of argan oil.

“Mommy! Mommy!”

“Hi my baby,” you kiss her temple, “How’s my little princess?”

“Good,” Aria kissed your cheek, “We painted in school today! I have a picture for you!”

“Ahhh! Really?! Oh my goodness. I bet it’s a masterpiece.” You spoke excitedly with bright eyes.

“It can go on the fridge next to the flowers I colored.” Aria babbled as she formed words.

You grab Aria’s hand, “It can. We have plenty of room.”

Madison walks over with her soccer ball in hand and you pull her into a hug before kissing the top of her hair.

“How’s my niece? Did you win your game today?”

“Yes! You should have seen me out there!”

Madison showed you a move that won them the game.

“I already knew you were gonna win!” You replied boisterously.

The sound of a glass door sliding open caught your ear. Out walked your older brother; James. He wore a pair of faded dark blue jeans and a black T-shirt. The glasses over his eyes made him look articulate. He’d shaved his head completely bald since his hairline started receding, but it suited him. James could pull off any hairstyle.

“Hey, hey!”

“ ‘Sup sis?”

James gives you a one arm hug and a kiss to your hairline.

“Thanks for picking up Aria. My session ran a little late today.”

“All good. You know I got you.”

You follow your brother into the house. Aria ran off to grab her things and Madison followed behind. You open the fridge and grab yourself some homemade iced tea. James was in the middle of thawing out some steaks for dinner. You glance at the family photos on his fridge before walking away.

“Where’s Jr?” You question.

“In that room playing the game.”

“Tonya’s at work today?”

James nods his head while reaching inside of his pantry for some potatoes, “She’s been working longer shifts at the hospital lately. She finally got a weekend off. Been planning it for Madison’s birthday for months now. I have everything taken care of so she can ease her mind.”

“That’s good to hear. You know I’m here to help if you need me, bro,” You take a sip of your tea, “I’m still making my potato salad and seafood salad.”

“Damn right you are! shid, before momma passed she put you in charge of that!” James replied with a laugh following.

“Like you can’t do it.”

“I’m on grill duty! You want my famous ribs don’t you?!”

“Shut up,” You sit your cup down on the kitchen island and stretch your arms above your head, wincing in pain, “I can’t wait to go home and take a hot bath in epsom salt.”

“Terry been workin’ you hard, huh?”

“Too hard. Treating me like I’m one of his cadets.” You complain.

“Stop it, Aria! It’s mine!”

“Hey! What I tell ya’ll about that bickering? Pipe it down!” James chastised.

“Aria! Behave!” You say, “These little girls…”

“Terry knows his shit, baby sis. He’ll get you right in no time.” James replied.

“I know he does.”

James started peeling potatoes.

“I see a change in you for sure.”

“I feel it too…feel like I’m getting back to myself.” You reveal.

Aria came dashing out from Madison’s room with her back pack and tablet in one hand. You check to make sure she had everything before saying farewell to your brother and niece.

“Drive safely, sis. Love you Ari,” James gives Aria and you a goodbye hug, “I’ll see ya’ll this Saturday. Shoot me a text when you make it in.”

“Will do! Love ya’ll.”

You hug Madison and make your way outside, locking the door behind you.

——

Terry handed you a jump rope and you gave him a bizzare look. His serious face with steadfast eyes was enough for you to take the rope from his hand. He watched you turn your back towards him and toss the rope over your head while holding both sides.

“Forty–five seconds.” Terry set a timer, “Go.”

He was soaked with sweat from his earlier workout. He figured he’d take a shower after his session with you. The front of his olive green tank top held a large stain of sweat. His face glistened beneath the lights and the tattoos on his arms popped from the perspiration leaking from his pours.

Terry watched you jump, short, plump legs pushing off of the gym mat. You wore a teal blue workout set. A skort with a matching bralette. The bralette had a keyhole style in the front, giving a peek of cleavage. Your feet in white sneakers tripped over the rope causing you to stumble. Terry paused the timer.

“I suck at jump rope, Terry.” She admitted with a tired exhale.

“You were doing well. Give me a full forty–five seconds and I’ll let you rest.”

You perked up at the mention of rest, big brown eyes that reminded him of hot cocoa on a winter night twinkling.

“Still gotta do glutes and hamstrings, Y/N.”

The brightness of your gaze dimmed.

“Let’s go.” Terry commanded.

You take a deep breath before positioning yourself again. Terry set the timer and you went back to jumping, face scrunched in discomfort and sweat flickering from your body with each move. Terry licked his lips as he paced, taking his arms and folding them over his sturdy chest. You catch his eye in the mirror for a second before squeezing them shut from the intense burn.

“Terry—”

“Ten more seconds. Hold on.” Terry reassured.

His deep voice and the sternness of it motivated you. The timer beeped and you stopped, tossing the jump rope to the floor and resting your hands on your hips while you attempt to calm your racing heart and uneven breaths.

“GOOD JOB.” Terry encouraged with a thunderous clap of his hands.

You nod your head. Terry walked up towards you and placed a hand on your back, rubbing it. He could feel the tension in your muscles loosening beneath his callused hands. Terry took that moment to embrace the sensation of your skin. Silky smooth. Blemish free. Soft. His eyes did a quick sweep of the tattoo teasing him on your lower back. It looked like a butterfly.

“Rest time…”

Terry dropped his hand. He hadn’t realized he was rubbing your back the entire time. Lost in the sensation of your delicate skin.

You settle on a bench and grab your water jug. Terry turned the music down and joined you with his own water. You both sat in silence for a moment until Terry turned his body at an angle to get a better look at you. Your curly hair had that freshly fucked look to it. Wild coils tightly wound from shrinkage. He could smell the shea butter. You glance up at him bashfully before your eyes focused on the bottle in your hand.

He made you nervous. More so during moments like this. When everything was still. He wanted to pick your brain, learn more about you.

“Any plans this weekend?”

She looked at him again, “Saturday. My niece has a birthday party.”

“Ah, James told me about that.” Terry revealed with a smirk.

“…you’re coming?”

Terry caught the thrill in her question. She wanted him there. He scratched the side of his face with his thumb to fight the urge to smile at that revelation.

“I planned to,” Terry licked his lips, “Support a friend and eat some good food, ya know?”

She laughed, “That’s sweet of you,” she nudged him with her elbow, “I’m making potato and seafood salad. The best in town.”

“Seafood salad is a favorite of mine. I gotta see that for myself.” Terry replied with playful banter.

She picked up a towel to dab sweat away from her face and chest. Terry’s eyes did a slow descent to her chest, his mouth watering and tongue aching to taste. He looked away and shut his eyes for a moment.

“I can’t wait to make you eat your words, Terry Richmond.”

“Not the whole government.” Terry chuckled.

“Because I don’t play about my seafood salad. When I say it’s the best, I mean it!”

You swatted his arm with your towel. Terry caught it with his hand and with a slight tug he pulled you closer. You gasp, the sound shooting straight to his semi–hard dick. Terry brought his face closer to yours, eyes locked on to your dilated pupils.

“Aht, aht…play nice. Save that energy for sparring, baby girl.”

He released the towel and it dropped to the floor. You quickly avert your gaze before bending over to grab it. At that moment, Terry’s hazel eyes studied that lower back tattoo. It was a butterfly indeed. Cute.

And is that…back dimples?

“Do we really have to lift today?”

The pout on your lip made him smile.

“YES. Better get on it now so we both can relax, right?”

You groan and take your time standing from the bench. Terry set up the squat rack while you drink a little bit more water. You make your way over and he instructs for you to get into position. Back facing him, he guided the safely squat bar over your shoulders.

“Alight, three sets of twenty.”

Still behind you, Terry counts as you squat. Your stance is perfect and so was that big ass poking out at him. Bending over like that made that ass bigger. Terry tried to focus on anything else, but no matter how many times he counted, you were distracting him. He looked down at the bulge beneath his grey shorts and how noticeable it is.

I’m in trouble, he thought.

“Last one.” Terry said.

You struggle to lift so Terry grabbed a hold of your waist to ease you back up. The moment your ass grazed his print you created space between you both. A look of embarrassment crossed your face and Terry was too stunned to speak.

“That was my fault—”

“No I was too close—”

“I was only trying to help—”

“I should have stepped away—”

Both of you pause. Neither of you could let the other speak first. Terry blinked slowly at you. You stared up at him with your lips parted. An unspoken glance at his crotch made it acutely aware of his stiffness. There was no denying it. Not when his dick sat fat and twisted to the side. It almost poked out the leg opening of his shorts.

“Uhm…”

Terry just stared at you.

“What’s happening right now?” She spoke.

Terry glanced sideways and then back into your eyes. At this point, might as well come out with it.

“No reason to skirt around the obvious…”

You fidget with your hands and shift your weight. Terry cocked his head and his gaze remained locked on you. Unyielding.

There goes your scent again. That musk. He was losing control. The silence was killing him. If you weren’t going to speak he sure was.

“Aight, Y/N. If you haven’t already guessed by now, I like you. A LOT.”

Terry cut to the quick.

You nod your head slowly. Unsure if what was happening was real.

“What happened,” Terry’s hands raised as he tried to explain himself, “I didn’t mean to…to get close…but I’ve wanted to…for weeks now. No sense in boiling it down to excuses.”

Terry got closer. You blink up at him like you were stuck in a trance.

“Can I get some feedback here?” Terry cracked a smile as he studied your face, “I don’t know what you’re feelin’.”

He could see that you were struggling to find the words to speak. Terry’s hands touched your arms and he stroked your tacky skin with his thumbs. A shaky exhale escaped your mouth. Pretty brown eyes filled with uncertainty met his gaze.

“I…I’m feeling the same…” She spoke softly.

“Do you?” Terry asked.

“I do. I just didn’t expect…”

Terry’s hands fell to his sides. You reach up and touch the spot where his hands once were.

“Didn’t expect me to be interested?”

“Yeah.”

Terry smirked, “Now, what would make you think that? Because you’re beyond beautiful.”

Your mouth dropped open.

“I’m James’ sister.” Y/N replied with a small voice.

Terry furrowed his brows.

“Uh…what that mean, Y/N?”

“It means I’m off limits! Right?”

“Who the fuck made that rule?” Terry replied with a slight curl of his upper lip.

“Nobody—”

“Y/N, you feel the same, right?”

“Yes,” her eyes flickered with confusion.

“So fuck it.” Terry spoke confidently with a slight hint of mischief.

You laugh nervously.

“For real.” Terry said.

——

What had just occurred?

You stand before your trainer, eyes wide and mouth open. Your fine ass trainer just admitted to having feelings for you and all you could do is stand there like a deer in headlights?

His dick is hard because of you. His beautiful eyes admired you with romantic intensity. He didn’t care what your brother thought. He wanted you. Something straight out of a book. This was a chance encounter with a man that checked off all your boxes, even though he worked your last nerve in the gym.

“For real.” He said.

This was a grown man talking. Apparently he’d been silent long enough. It took for your ass to tap his dick for the truth to emerge. Funny how that happens. Your stomach fluttered with excitement. Terry titled your head up to look at him. Your eyes danced between each other. He stroked your chin with his thumb.

“You’re so pretty.”

“Thank you,” you replied, “so are you—I mean—what I was trying to say—what I meant to say was—”

Terry chuckled, “Y/N, shut up.”

“Huh? Excuse me—”

His thick lips graced yours. He shut you up alright. Stunned, you rock back on unsteady feet. Terry’s hands circle your plush waist and he took control, walking you backwards towards the mirrored wall. Your back against it, immediately his tongue slipped into your mouth and you mold your hands against his chest, falling onto the kiss with your own tongue.

You could taste his sweat. His tongue glided over yours like a wet tentacle. It made your breath hitch and your fingernails drag down his chest. The hands on your hips planted against the mirror, trapping you while he devoured your mouth with his skillful tongue and pliant lips. Sandalwood, tarragon, and spearmint. That’s what you could smell. Woody, earthy, and with an animalistic undertone.

His tongue swiped your lower lip with a hungry growl and his large hands cupped your round face to keep you in place. He guided your movements how he wanted, your fingers trembling as they smoothed over his shoulders and down to his hips. Broad upper body gracefully narrowing down to a tapered waist much like the letter ‘V’. The coveted shape that symbolized the pinnacle of physical attractiveness. You’d never seen him shirtless, and you desperately needed to.

Lips puffy from kissing, Terry gave you a moment to breathe properly while his mouth explored your neck. He pressed kisses against your sweaty skin and the tip of his tongue stroked upward until he was latching onto your earlobe decorated with a diamond Tiffany stud. Terry’s hands were everywhere. He kneaded your curves desperately, palming your ass and hips. He did it so forcefully that you were almost lifted from the floor.

“I…need…you…” he spoke with a hushed tone.

Your breath hitches, “Take me…” you replied barely above a whisper.

Terry unlatched his head from the crease of your neck to lock eyes with you. His eyes were low and sleepy–like. As if he were intoxicated from you.

“Take you? Oh…don’t say that if you ain’t ready. I’ll take that ass to the moon. Have you seeing the fuckin’ galaxy.”

“Terry…”

His brows snapped together and his tongue sat in the corner of his mouth. He hooked his fingers beneath the straps to your bralette and with a tug he made your breasts bounce. Repeatedly.

“Big ass titties…fat titties…just how I like it…”

You couldn’t believe how he was talking to you. Terry let go of your straps and they snapped in place with a slight sting. He cupped your breasts from the sides and mushed them up. You watch with a weak gaze as he fondled like he was kneading dough.

“I want my…”

He paused.

“Your what, Terry?”

“Intrusive thoughts…you just make me weak, girl…”

This big, strong man?

“Tell me…”

Terry looked at you.

“I want my dick sandwiched between these.”

You knew that’s what he was going to say but you wanted to hear him say it. And you loved the way he said it so desperately. Like he was begging you.

“Can I see you?”

He bent down and pecked your cleavage through the keyhole of your bralette. You moan from the tickle of his lips. Glancing down you couldn’t believe your eyes. Terry was past the point of hard. You didn’t know what to categorize his dick at that moment. That long dick pitched a tent in his shorts. You’d never seen it like that before.

“Yes, yes,” you touch his tip with your fingers, “Terry, oh my god…”

Terry fit his long fingers beneath your bralette and with a hard tug he released your hanging breasts. They bounced free and Terry didn’t waste time grabbing both and pointing your hard nipples straight at his mouth. You couldn’t look away if you tried. He suckled your breasts and looked you in the eyes. Large body hunched forward to feast.

“Oh my gosh,” you had no choice but to look at him, “Terry, please don’t stop.”

This can’t be happening right now. He’s sucking and licking your nipples. Terry pressed his face between and his tongue wiggled while he used your breasts like earmuffs. You whimpered, overwhelmed with how much he enjoyed your breasts. His tongue licked all over your areolas, cleaning the sweat from your skin.

“FUCK.”

Terry resurfaced and twirled your nipples. He sought out your lips again while he tugged and pinched and rolled your nipples between his fingers.

“You gon’ make me unleash this beast and fuck the shit outta you girl.”

He was talking his shit. You didn’t have the capacity to do so at the moment. He was thumbing your nipples and it made your clit jump. Wet and tingly between your legs, you SO FUCKING NEEDED him to do that with your pussy but wait—

“C’mere…”

Terry turned you around abruptly and with a hand on your spine he pushed you forward. Your hands connected with the mirror and he locked eyes with your reflection.

“Move that ass up and down on this tip. Three sets of twenty.” Terry ordered, “COUNT.”

Hand in your hair, one on your waist, you start to move your hips up and down. Your ass brushed his tip and you could feel it poke your pussy lips from behind each time you went up.

“Six…seven…eight…”

“Feel that burn?”

“Yesss…eleven…twelve…”

“Get used to that…”

His hand on your waist reached around to squeeze your stomach.

“Keep going, I ain’t tell you to stop.”

“Nineteen…twenty…”

You were clenching around nothing. Pussy flutters out of control.

“Two more. If you keep it up I’ll stick my tongue in it just like this before I feed you this dick…”

His deep baritone sent chills throughout your body. You feel sweat dripping from every inch of your skin the more you moved with a slow motion. Your glutes burned and your thighs quaked. Terry released your hair and right before your eyes he lifted his shirt to rest under his chin.

Good GOD.

Thick ridges of muscle. Shining like he’d been oiled down. This man had eleven percent body fat. Disciplined. Sculpted. Holy SHIT.

“T–ten…eleven…”

“Good girl…not too much longer…”

He’s the epitome of sexy. Whatever control this man had he definitely didn’t give a damn now. With one more slow whine, Terry was on you like white on rice. He had a wet spot over his tip and his breaths came out uneven and rushed as he led you over to a pair of UFC pull up rings.

“Grab each one and bend over…”

“Terry, wait…”

You knew what he wanted but you were musty from working out. He popped you on the ass for moving too slow.

“NOW.” He spoke evenly and firmly.

You grab onto the rings and without warning Terry was tugging on your skort until it fell around your ankles. You stood there in a pair of panties and they were soaked with sweat and your arousal. Your frantic eyes sought out his. Terry gave you a smirk before using one hand to remove your panties. You step out of them and watch with shock as he admired the creamy essence on the crotch of your panties. Terry thumbed it and spread it over his fingers like he was inspecting it before sucking it off.

Those panties found a new home in his pocket. You watch stunned as he takes off his sweaty T-shirt and it joined your bottoms on the floor. Terry stood behind you with a bare chest and a gold chain. He used a single finger to trace down your back and between your ass cheeks. You nibble on your bottom lip to control the quivering.

“Bend that ass over for me, love.”

——

A wide ass and a back with rolls of delicious flesh.

Pendulums known as your breasts swaying from your postiton.

The way you looked back at him like you couldn’t find the words to describe how much you NEED his tongue in you.

And Terry was going to put his tongue so far up that fat pussy to the point of dislocating his jaw.

His tastebuds sizzled with gluttony to taste more. Creamy pussy with that twang that had him primal.

He got down on his knees behind your short frame and spread your cheeks. Two holes met his piercing eyes. Pink flesh with a creamy center beckoned him and without pause his tongue wiggled between hungrily.

“UNH!”

You hang your head and stand on your tip toes. Swaying forward, Terry followed your movements. When it got out of control, he’d pop your ass to keep you still.

“Fuck this shit,” He locked your thighs with his biceps.

He sucked and slurped so cruelly. Like he was punishing you for moving. Vanquished, you slump forward and from your blurry vision you could see a stream of spit drip to the floor. He was slobbering all over your folds.

“Oh, fuck,” your arms began to shake and burn, “I can’t hold it.”

Terry released your clit with a deep exhale that fanned your pussy with hot air, “Fuck my face.”

With a weak whimper, you pop your juicy pussy on his mouth. Terry’s wild tongue and thick lips had you experiencing an out of body sensation.

“Fuck, you’re eating the fuck outta my pussy!”

He got closer with one hand on the floor and he angled his head to eat it from a different direction. He was all up in your pussy and at this point you didn’t care if you weren’t showered he wanted it he could have it.

“You taste…exactly how…I pictured you would…”

He spoke between licks and sucks.

“Sweet and strong…the best thing next to my momma’s cooking…good pussy…”

You moan in response.

“So tasty…feed me…”

You fight back a groan and rock back on his fine ass face. Your back muscles burned deliciously. In the mirror you could see your ass moving like a tidal wave.

“Right there…oh, yes,” you moan.

“Mhm…mhmmmm…hmm…mhmm?” he hummed into your pussy.

There it was, sneaking up on you.

“I’m cummin’ I’M CUMMIN’!” You squeal with broken moans.

Terry sucked you up and you caught a slight cramp in your calf muscle from how drastically your body convulses. A total body vibration. He gave you soft kisses all over your pussy and that only increased the overstimulation. Terry finally came up for air and you locked eyes with him. His face was glossy and stained with cum. He helped you stand and with his hands he massaged your stiff shoulders and arms. You could smell the pungent pheromones on his lips. Leaning in, Terry caught your tongue between his lips and sucked. While kissing, you stroked his impressive length through his shorts.

“I ain’t scared you off yet, did I?” Terry asked.

“No.” You respond with a dazed look.

“You sure? Because,” Terry gripped your wrist firm and slipped it past the waist band of his shorts and compression briefs, “This what you gettin’.”

You were too late with masking your gasp. It just slipped past your lips. Your chubby fingers couldn’t form a complete ring around his girth.

“Still ain’t scared?”

Terry guided you to stroke him. The veins beneath the palm of your hand rendered you speechless. Big? No this was a behemoth. And you weren’t exaggerating about never having a dick this big. It was completely true.

“You can be honest with me.” Terry said with a grin.

“…definitely bigger than what I’m used to.”

“I think we can both agree you’ve proven that you can take whatever I dish out…”

Terry kept his eyes on you but the hand on yours in his shorts tightened. He wanted you to feel how stiff he is. Like he could withstand anything. All of this was for you. He was like this because of you.

“It’s time to take care of this.”

You drop to your knees and stare up at him. The visual before your eyes…

Shorts past his hips and resting around his thighs, you come face to face with a monster. The body matched the dick. You could pat yourself on the back for your skills but this was another hurdle to overcome. But, you had to remind yourself that you gave birth which is a challenge indeed, so sucking a big dick should be a breeze, right?

It’s a pretty dick. Darker in contrast to the rest of his body. Terry gave your hair a slight tug to focus you on the task. You hold that big motherfucker at the base and with hungry lips you wrap them around his tip and start sucking.

““Dasssit, suck that mothafucka,” Terry grabbed a fistful of tight coils, “I get to play with your mouth. Good. Eyes up here.”

You look up at him while sucking half and jerking the rest. Sunken in cheeks and a bob of your head was his visual. Terry extended his neck and started moving his hips to meet your mouth as you came down over him. He’s so thick in your mouth. You shut your eyes and suck and slurp, loud noises a reminder of how sloppy it’s supposed to be. Spit clung to your chin and made its way to your breasts in such a short time.

“Suck it like that,” Terry’s hips would jerk a little to pump into your mouth while his hand pet the back of your head, “Good girls like you get a dick in the mouth. You see this dick?” Terry pulled your mouth off of him by gripping your hair, “It’s your Daddy dick, right?”

“Y-yes,” You were horny, pussy soaked, reaching out to stroke him. 

“Cute ass. Stick your tongue out.”

You do as your told and Terry slapped his dick on it a few times before forcing more of him down your throat.

“Hold it. Just like that…been daydreaming of fillin’ these jaws with this dick…”

You gag and pinch your thumb to help control the urge to gag again. Terry wanted you messy and he did just that with the way his dick going in and out of your mouth produced more spit.

“Hands behind your back, mhm…big titty, pretty lady…”

His pubic hair tickled your nose and it smelled powdery and fresh despite the amount of sweat on his body. The taste of his pre-cum was enough for you to tongue his slit. Terry tilted his head down at you with a look akin to defeat.

“Uuuuuhhhhnnnnn, FFFFUCCCKIIIIN SLUT—”

You weren’t prepared for that brazen performance and the vulgar tone. Terry’s free hand made a fist that pumped the veins in his arm. You could see his balls jump with his release down your throat and it was magical. His cum tasted delicious and you savored every drop. After wiping away as much as you could, Terry helped you to your feet and thanked you with a sloppy kiss. He pressed his forehead against yours before his lips attacked your jaw.

——

You’re in his bedroom. A master bedroom with a king size bed, walk–in closet, a lounge area, and a large bathroom. Terry carried you all the way to his room with his tongue in your mouth and his hands cuffing your ass. He picked you up like you were feather weight.

Now, strong hands gripped your hips tightly. You can’t run from the pain and pleasure. Too much to handle at once. Nonsense spewing from your lips, you squeeze your eyes shut but the tears disobeyed you. You’ve never been this filled and fucked at the same time. He put you in position and fit that dig in despite your cries. The mantra of being stretched just fueled him. With the little strength you could muster, you try to ease off of his big dick but his hands smoothed up to your waist and with a shove your right cheek planted hard against the comforter.

“what I say ‘bout all that runnin’?” Terry barked out.

“I’m sorry!” You cry.

Without another word, he went back to fucking the shit out of you. while your spine is curling to shy away from him, his big hips clapped against your ass while you’re crawling closer easing closer to the headboard. Your trembling fingers fisted the sheets, trying your best to ease some of that pressure, that stretch, that split. His big hands smooth over the rippling flesh of your backside, squeezing on it like two handles, yanking you back where he wants you. The feeling of his tip hitting the bottom of your pussy caused hot tears to prick the corners of your eyes.

“Can’t run from me baby, remember? I train you to do. what. I. say…”

His thrusts were punctuated.

“When I tell you to do something you fuckin’ do it,” he murmurs, tongue deviously tracing his bottom lip because that pussy is his meal.

“Terrrryyyyyyyy….”

Terry allowed his hips to do all the work while he grabbed one of your ankles. Your pussy recoiled back onto raw dick. Your pathetic squeaks get shoved out of you with every plunge, riding through the burn as your pussy responded to the harsh treatment with a flood of more cream, wetting his entry just like he wants.

“That’s it, baby girl, cream like that, good girl,” Terry observes in awe, mouth dropping open and brows pinched together tightly, “Fffuck…mmm.”

You were making a creamy ring at the base of his dick, stringing in his dark pubic hair. So much slick and so much more pleasure. So intense it surged a heat so powerful all over your skin. Sweat poured from both of your bodies.

“Mmm, damn girl,” Terry hums, teeth marking the space past his lower lip as he bites down on it hard.

That clamp on your ass cheeks constricts and you know from his grip alone it’ll leave bruises, whimpering brokenly into the mattress.

“Ter–Terry…” You release an airy sigh of defeat.

“Tell me what you want, use that mouth of yours, you do any other time, right?!” He teases through a husky exhale, tipping his head back as he looks down at that pussy slurping him up making the nastiest sounds.

“I want to cum! Please–Please D–Daddy!”

You were so close. And you were afraid how intense it would be. The knot in your belly tightened and your body seized up out of your control.

“Cum on this dick!”

His deep voice through clenched teeth caused you to erupt liked you’d never done before. And Terry didn’t stop. He fucked you through your orgasm. And now, you were squirting.

“Open up, nah, wet this dick up.”

He continued to fuck you long dick style. Your titties smacked together from the force and once again another orgasm was on the horizon.

“Fuckin’ this pussy up just like you deserve.”

This man was plowing you.

“Ohmigooooddddddd—”

Clapclapclapclap

“OH!”

Terry’s hips slowed to a stop but that dick remained deep as he kissed along your spine.

“I’m so open,” you couldn’t believe it.

Terry eased himself out and the sensation made your back arch. He palmed a hefty, cellulite–filled cheek and jiggled it.

“Yeah, she open alright,” Terry admired his work while fisting his messy dick, “Time to climb on top though. I want that weight on my dick.”

Terry crawled onto the bed and you sat up on your knees, watching him settle on his back. Terry motioned for you to swing a thigh over and when you did he pointed his tip at you pussy and with both hands on your ass and his biceps curled beneath your knees, Terry entered you with an upward thrust.

“Look at me…”

You look down past your breasts and belly and the man beneath you smiled at you like he didn’t just fuck your brains out. What he did next shocked you. This man used you like a barbell and did arm curls over that dick. Two hundred plus pounds being handled on the dick.

And it was loud. Skin slapping bouncing off the walls while he bounced you in his lap. His arms circled your waist and it forced your breast to rest on his forehead. He fucked up into your pussy so good you could only pout your lip and give in. But he was talking. Terry was talking.

“Tell daddy where he’s at…you know I like it when you do that baby…uh-huh…all up in this pussy, huh? Been wanting me to fuck you? Now you get to feel this dick in your stomach…that’s it, my big girl…fuck back like a big girl…”

He had that ass gyrating. Your mouth unhinged and at the same time his balls clapped your ass you nutted on that dick again.

His stamina is out of this world. You were seeing shooting stars and the milky way behind your lids. Terry was drenched from head to toe and now he had you folded like origami with his hands on the back of your thighs to keep you locked in place and his toes digging into the mattress. Like a piston he fed your pussy more dick with his chain hanging over your face. Your feet were on his shoulders and your breasts sat up and out for him to suck on. He had a hand on your belly now and all you could do was watch him fuck you.

“You know this my puss, right?”

“It is!” You shout.

He withdrew his hips and put his lips on your pussy again.

“Terry SHIT!”

This man was too much. You could hardly see him past your big titties but he latched onto your clit and sucked. Your toes curled in opposite directions while your hands tangled in the sheets. Speaking of the sheets, they were soaked through.

He kissed your clit and sat up to look at you. You stare down at him before falling back against the pillow. Terry crawled up next to you and settled behind you. He lifted your leg and entered you from the side.

“This is probably the best session you’ve had so far, Y/N,” Terry thumbed your clit while staring down at you, “I’m not your average nigga. If you wanna keep fuckin’ on this dick you gotta keep up with me…”

You stare down between your legs at his big dick.

“Terry,” you lock eyes with him as best you could, “Terry, I’m your slut, I’m your fat pussy slut, this your wet pussy!”

He turned you out.

“That’s right, baby, know that shit!”

The amount of clapping your ass was doing could amplify a stadium. This Carolina boy had you dumbstruck. Terry reached around and cupped your fupa and put his leg up to dig deeper.

“Ohhh, ooooo, you finna’ have me paint your walls…you thick, pretty bitch…”

He cupped your chin, turned your head, and smashed his lips into yours. All while fucking you. Your sweat mingled and the smell of sex permeated the air. Him calling you a bitch had your walls gripping him up. Terry buried his face into your neck, one hand on your titty, the other on your stomach.

“I’m fuckin’ nutting in you DEEP—”

“Yes!” You cry out.

One thick leg in the air Terry gave you a finale that knocked the wind out of you. He pumped to the point of headboard banging and then hot, jizz filled you up to the brim. He would give you quick pumps while he was still buried deep. He released a huff when his dick slipped out. You push his cum out and Terry watched with lustful eyes while fingering your mixture of fluids.

“My kinda woman,” Terry smiled at you with his hand cupping your pussy.

You giggle, “Oh, Terry Richmond. You’re full of surprises.

“And you’re full of my cum.” Terry whispered.

[cleolinda]

“Shaking off the stink of … ‘when they go low, we go high,’” is how one Democratic operative put it, as they celebrated the sudden vibe-shift and re-energized messaging strategy within their party in the days since President Joe Biden bowed out of the 2024 race.

According to an Democratic lawmaker on Capitol Hill who is regularly in contact with Biden-Harris (now just Harris) officials, one idea fueling this push is to hammer home an easily memorable point to swing voters about how Trump, Vance, and the GOP and MAGA elite are a bunch of “weird, sick freaks who everyone hates, and who want to take basic rights away.”

The lawmaker adds: “Put it on a bumper sticker.”

Meanwhile: Trump tells Christians they won’t have to vote after this election.

WASHINGTON, July 27 (Reuters) - Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump told Christians on Friday that if they vote for him this November, "in four years, you don't have to vote again. We'll have it fixed so good, you're not gonna have to vote."

It was not clear what the former president meant by his remarks, in an election campaign where his Democratic opponents accuse him of being a threat to democracy, and after his attempt to overturn his 2020 defeat to President Joe Biden, an effort that led to the deadly insurrection at the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021.

[lizardsfromspace]

There was lots of concern about AI and deepfakes spreading misinformation this election cycle, so let's check in on that!

A lot of right-wing accounts are trying to prove that Kamala Harris' crowds are fake - that all the photos of them are generated with AI. We'll get to that, but let's look at the most...amusing example first.

There's lots of people pointing at an image of a crowd that's obviously been generated with AI, due to extra arms and gibberish writing.

So obviously someone generated this image with AI. Who was it and why? Well, we can actually find the origin pretty easily. It was...

A right-wing satire account. Who put "unexcited Kamala Harris crowd" into a AI image generator to make a "wow, crowds are electric!" joke.

An image their own side generated as satire is now being spread by the right as something Harris/Walz created as proof they're doing the thing they're doing. Incredible. Just a masterclass

Now let's look at the dark stuff.

By and large, AI isn't being used for hoaxes. AI is being used as a excuse: people aren't being tricked by AI images, they're being tricked by accusations real images are AI.

So this hoax went around recently...

This image is old. It spread in 2017, it spread in 2020, and now it's spread in 2024. The Harris/Walz rally wasn't even in the Phoenix Convention Center, or in Phoenix. But it's now a core part of the "no one's attending their rallies!" campaign going on now

This may seem strange if you experience the news by non-conservative media, where you can't escape stories of Kamala Harris filling up massive stadiums & of Trump rallies full of empty seats. All evidence in reality points to Kamala Harris being extremely popular and to Trump's campaign faltering.

But in MAGA land, Kamala Harris' crowds were generated with AI.

Their claims: the crowd isn't in the reflection, and uh, the arms look weird. But also that there "aren't any other images".

But? There are? There was a livestream of that very plane landing (starting at 25)!

They're subjecting what they think is The Only Image of this rally in long Youtube videos and on Twitter and TikTok, and just...don't realize there's full, uncut, commentary-free video of it that was broadcast live. So why don't they realize that?

Well, I did a search for this rally on Fox News' website and guess what? They reported it exactly twice: once a interview with her while leaving that slammed her for "not taking press questions" enough, and a few clips of the Palestinian protestors at it, but not many, bc if you don't follow the far right they're trying to frame Kamala Harris as, like, a radical pro-Palestinian (or, as they say, "pro-Hamas") activist who wants to destroy Israel which, uhhhhhhhh

But another thread I found debunking this, by a former Trump-voting evangelical conservative turned critic of the same, gets at the heart of it

People who said AI and deepfakes would be used to mislead the right were missing how misinformation actually works. Fox News et al don't suppress information by confusing the audience with misinformation; they suppress information by never letting them see it in the first place. They know that they have a captive audience who doesn't watch non-right-wing news (unlike the left, who are constantly aware of what's going on over at Fox).

They can just never mention or show Kamala Harris' rallies, or do so only in close-up, and they can frame Trump to only show shots where a crowd has gathered & make it seem like that's the norm, and their audience just has no chance to find out the truth. They're so propagandized that they just accept that there are no other images of that Kamala Harris rally, because, well, they were told there weren't, and would the news personalities they trust really lie to them?

And if any stray bits of reality float into the bubble, well, it was just AI. You know, how they have AI these days? AI's most important role in all this isn't as a vector for misinformation, it's as a rhetorical device for claiming real images and video are misinformation. You don't have to make images full of people with weird hands if you can get people circling real people's hands in red and pointing at it to prove reality was made in a computer.

These people don't know how popular Kamala Harris is. They don't know she's polling eight points higher than Trump. They don't know Harris is leading in right-wing biased polls. They're being told she's hiring actors at rallies, that her crowd photos are generated by AI, that Trump rallies are popular and hers are desolate.

This only likely to increase as we near the election because, well, Trump '24 is a shitshow. His campaign started out less popular than '16 or even '20, he picked maybe the worst VP pick in history, and he hasn't made a single effective attack on Harris/Walz. They were banking on facing Biden, and then on a chaotic open convention, but instead everyone closed ranks around Harris, and she instantly became the most popular Democratic candidate since 2008. We are cruising towards Trump/Vance not only losing, but losing in the closest thing to a landslide that's possible in our current system.

They're already laying the groundwork for, in the likely case of defeat, playing the "she stole the election!" card. Last time it was ad-hoc, because Trump thought he'd win. This time, they're already making "all her rallies are fake, all of her supporters are AI, they've already rigged it against Trump" a key strategy, and, I have to assume, their primary strategy as it gets closer to election day and the polls get worse. They've always lived in a bubble, but now it's a bubble designed explicitly to cause another January 6th. By claiming real photos have weird hands, and must totally be AI

[angelart67]

MY ART IS ALWAYS SHARABLE... 😇🎨

[dlwritings]

November 6, 2024 | Rafe Cameron

masterlist found here

pairing - Rafe x reader word count - 1,827 warnings - political talk, anti-T*ump rhetoric A/N - Who would've thought the shit show state of our world would inspire me to write again. I know for a lot of us everything feels really broken right now, and I know it may seem silly to some, but for me, writing feels like healing, even if it's just something like this. So here you all are. Rafe probably votes red, but here's a world where he doesn't. Also, if you're a T*umper, go ahead and unfollow me. I can't have any of that in my life. I'm so serious.

summary - The results of the 2024 election hit you pretty hard, and you end up taking your rage out on Rafe. Turns out, Rafe's hopes for the future looked a lot like yours.

You and Rafe didn’t talk about politics. You knew better than to broach the topic with him, because you weren’t naive. One glance at him and anyone could guess how he voted.

But that didn’t mean you had to like it.

The two of you had been dating for about six months, and for the most part, it was smooth sailing. It was gossip fuel for most people on the island for a few weeks -you being a pogue and Rafe being … who he was- but like most drama in Kildaire, it didn’t stay at the forefront of people’s minds for long before another thing came and stole back everyone’s attention.

And the thing on everyone’s mind right now was the election. The election that had you donned in blue on your way to the polls, a huge smile on your face as you filled in the bubble that would make history. Hope filled you in a way you were sure it never had before.

Until the next day.

Waking up and opening social media to see the results had already come in was enough to break your spirit completely. How could this have happened? How could the country have failed so many people?

Then again, how had you been so naive to believe in the possibility of any other outcome?

You shut yourself off from the world for most of the day. You went to work and gave polite smiles and nods to your coworkers as needed, but you did your best to spend the majority of your time locked in your office, alone. You didn’t dare to open social media, knowing every MAGA post from the bigots of the Figure 8 would bring tears to your eyes.

It wasn’t until you were at home on your couch that you decided to brave Instagram. Before scrolling through your feed, you added a black screen with a simple blue heart to your story and wrote the words, When we fight, we win.

You thought it was harmless. A simple story that showed your feelings without being overly dramatic. The last thing you wanted to do was act irrational by doing something crazy like storming the capitol. Because that would just be insane.

Unfortunately, the people who followed you saw it as anything but harmless. They saw it as an opening to send you the most heinous, revolting messages you had ever read. Your notifications blew up within minutes, and some of them were so borderline terrifying that you locked your phone and threw it across the room, once again leaving you in a puddle of tears.

You heard your front door open, and you cursed to yourself. In all the chaos of the news, it escaped your mind that it was Wednesday, and Rafe always brought pizza to your apartment on Wednesdays. You had once mentioned in passing that you liked a pick-me-up halfway through a week, and Rafe took it upon himself to provide you with that. Normally, it was one of your favorite parts of the week. Today, Rafe was one of the last people you wanted to see.

“Babe!” he called out upon his entrance. “I got your favorite!”

You met him in the kitchen, and by one look at your face, Rafe’s own expression dropped. “What’s going on?”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat. “I think you should go.”

“What?” he said, dropping the pizza on the counter and walking over to you. With each step he took toward you, you took one step back. He stopped quickly, a frown painted on his face. “What’s wrong, baby?”

The words made something snap inside you, and your fists clenched at your sides. “What’s wrong?” you repeated. “What’s wrong? How about fucking everything, Rafe! Everything’s wrong, and you not seeing that is part of the problem! You are part of the problem!”

Rafe was, in a word, flabbergasted. He ran through the past 24 hours, trying to think of something he had done wrong, but he was coming up short. “Okay, I’m-” He let out an exasperated laugh. “I’m trying to understand, but you’ve got to give me something more here. What did I do?”

“You-” You let out a huff of a breath and ended up speaking through gritted teeth. “You and your stupid fucking MAGA Kook friends voted for a convicted felon to run our country! You voted for a man who wants to throw away my rights. You voted for a man who has raped a multitude of women and brags about it!”

Rafe’s eyes were wide as he held his hands up and shook his head. “Hang on-”

“No, Rafe!” you shouted, pushing him back as he tried to get closer to you again. “For the entire time we’ve dated, I’ve danced around the talk of politics, because I knew better. I knew a rich ass white guy from the south would vote for another rich ass white guy to run our country, but I guess I naively thought it wouldn’t matter. That the poor guys would get a win for fucking once this time. For once I thought the good guys would win and that a white man would have to face the consequences of his actions. But you-” You laughed bitterly. “You of all people know that privileged ass white men never ever have to face the consequences of their actions.”

You were hitting him where it hurt, and you knew it, but you were hurt. You and every woman like you had been holding in years of pain and hurt, and for you and many others, today was the day it was all going to come out.

“Baby, if you just let me-”

“Let you?” you laughed incredulously. “You and your fellow MAGA guys have clearly shown me I don’t have to let you do anything anymore.”

“What does that mean?” he asked.

You fished your phone out of your pocket, unlocked it, and shoved it in his face to show him all of the nasty messages you were receiving. Things like, “Your body, my choice,” “whomp whomp go make me a sandwich,” and “Guess what? Men win again” had flooded your DMs, and while you didn’t know it, Rafe was clocking every username and making a very specific list in his head.

“So maybe you can understand why I’m angry, Rafe,” you said, taking the phone back out of his hand and putting it in your pocket again. “I thought I could cancel out your vote, but I guess I forgot that meant you could cancel mine.”

“Ba-”

“I want you to leave, Rafe.”

“But I didn’t-”

“Fucking, go, Rafe!” you shouted. “Let me be angry and let me be alone!”

With a clenched jaw, Rafe gave a short nod. “Okay,” he whispered. “Fine.” It looked like he wanted to say more, but he refrained, instead turning around and heading out the door, leaving you in a mess of tears.

The next day, you called off from work. Maybe it was dramatic, but you didn’t care. You knew if one person even looked at you in a way you didn’t like, you’d lose any composure you had, and you couldn’t afford to lose your job for yelling at your boss.

You had the full intention to stay in bed all day, but the relentless knock at your door around 10AM proved that to be impossible. You felt some sense of relief, knowing it at least wouldn’t be another political petitioner.

Instead, perhaps just as unfortunately, it was Rafe.

You let out a heavy sigh. “What do you want, Rafe?”

He held out his hand which had a coffee cup in it from your favorite shop. “I went to your work, but your boss said you were sick,” he said. “I bought you coffee.” You took it, but didn’t say anything -just looked at him with raised eyebrows, as if to say, Anything else? “Can we please talk?” he said.

“I don’t know what there is to say, Rafe,” you sighed. Still, you stepped aside and let him in, not wanting your neighbors to bear witness to whatever argument was about to ensue. “I know we’re different -I’ve always known that- but I don’t think I can handle being this kind of different anymore.” You plopped yourself onto the sofa, expecting Rafe to sit next to you. Instead, he crouched in front of you so he was just slightly looking up at you.

“Baby, I didn’t vote for him.”

Your lips parted slightly in shock, and you felt tears instantly pool in your eyes.

“What?” you whispered.

“Yeah, of course I didn’t vote for him,” he said. He reached up to turn around the hat he was wearing backwards to reveal a Harris-Walz cap, and you let out a noise that was a mix of a gasp and a little laugh. “I know I’ve fucked up before baby,” he said. “And in other elections, yeah, I usually vote red. But this-” He shook his head and squeezed your knees. “This is different. And I know that. And I’d be an absolute moron to think that tax cuts for me are more important than basic rights for you.”

You moved to kneel on the floor next to him and held his face in your hands before leaning forward to place a soft kiss to his lips. When you pulled back, you kept your forehead against his. “I was so mean to you yesterday,” you whispered. “I didn’t-”

“It wasn’t anything I didn’t deserve,” he said. “I know that I am living in a world that was pretty much tailor made for me. And I know I should be in fucking prison for all the shit I’ve done, and so should he. And I know that none of what I’m saying right now changes the bullshit I’ve done, but I figured I should at least use all this fucking privilege I have and try to help people who don’t have it. Because you-” He paused to press a kiss to your lips. “-have taught me so much about being a good person. And I’m not going to vote against that.”

“I wasn’t a good person yesterday,” you mumbled.

“You were reacting to an unfortunately historic event,” he said. “You had every right to lose it. And you can keep losing it, and I will be by your side for every minute of it, okay?”

You nodded and gave him a soft smile. “Okay.”

He smiled back and nodded. “Okay.”

You and Rafe decided to spend the rest of the day together, sometimes talking, sometimes just sitting in the quiet. When you suggested putting on a movie, Rafe agreed. He let you choose, no complaints, and watched as you searched for the Barbie movie. You cried at all the usual parts, sometimes a bit harder than normal, but Rafe understood.

It is literally impossible to be a woman.

----- ----- ----- -----

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[user211201]

I Was Just Being Ironic, Bro

--- Original author: realhankmccoy ---

That’s how it started, you see. With irony. With a joke. A joke Daniel made about grabbing em by the pussy. Jared said it was kinda offensive, man. Daniel doubled down, saying he was just being ironic, explaining how he’d never be that misogynist, obviously.

Jared did end up laughing, just not wanting to be rude more than anything. I mean, they were friends and obviously Daniel didn’t swing that way.

But one joke turned into another joke, days later. And another. And the ways things were spiraling, soon the two roommates – they lived in a shared house of four – were joking about it all the time. Pretending to be alt-right. Pretending because it was fun, it was funny, it was something to do, a way to make fun of guys who acted like that while simultaneously getting to feel what it was like to be that sort of guy themselves.

They were pretty regular guys. But it became funny to pretend they were jock studs, too. “I dare you to work out, bro,” Daniel goes one night. “I fucking dare you. If you can do 100 pushups consecutively, I’ll even let you grab me by the pussy,” Daniel goes, grabbing his own cock and balls through his shorts for emphasis, which wasn’t hard since he was freeballing that night.

“Oh yeah?” Jared said, “Watch this, bro.” He only made it to fifteen, laughing, but they kept up their dare. Jared was building some pipes on those arms. And months later, after a few shots of whiskey, he hit one hundred pushups for the first time in his life.

“Dude, if I’m gonna grab you by the pussy, I want to see you wearing those Old Glory shorts.” Yeah, the shorts Daniel bought to be ironic. Jared knew those.

And he did grab Daniel’s cock and balls through the shorts, holding onto them tight, laughing, squeezing. “Ouch, dude, that fuckin’ hurts,” Daniel said. It was hilarious. They were so drunk.

But then it was Jared’s turn to dare Daniel, saying he should get as pumped as he was, that is if he could ever catch up. “I’m working on 120 pushups, bro, and look at you. Fuckin’ puny. Little Daniel. I dare you, bro. You can grab me by the pussy if you ever catch up.”

Daniel wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. And soon his guns were just as big, if not bigger. Their jokes were becoming almost infamous in the house.

“Drop and give me 20, Daniel. ‘Merica!” “Come on, tiny hands, let’s see if you can beat me at arm-wrestling.” “Aww, so hot, bro. You and that MAGA cap. I bet you’ll be able to score all the pussy you want if you wear that out to the bars.” “Lock her up, lock her up!” Daniel said to Jared when he was drunk off his ass, trying to tie him to his chair with rope. The guys loved horsing around.

Jared and Daniel both had American flag shorts, now. They had flag tank tops, t-shirts, hats, even MAGA caps. They were getting to be pretty buff guys. Acting like right-wing jockbros had been ironic, but now they looked pretty convincing in the part after working out so much and buying the gear they bought. Vocal inflections, ironic at first, now sounded more and more legit as they got their impersonations down pat. Sometimes they’d go out and hit the bars, ham it up, see who they fooled, which was pretty much everybody.

They were good at this. It was fucking funny and fun as hell.

Drunk one night, Daniel found himself confessing to Jared that he thinks it’s really hot when Jared acts like a MAGA guy. “Yeah bro?” Jared said, “I think it’s hot too. Makes me feel hot. It’s like everything I secretly want to be when I’m like this.”

“Yeah bro?” Daniel said, “I think that’s so fucking hot, man. You look great as one of those guys. I almost feel like I could grab you by the pussy for real, bro.”

“Why don’t you do it then, bro,” Jared said, “When we’re home. I fucking dare you, bro. Get those tiny hands on this big cock of mine. Bet you don’t have the balls.”

But turned out Daniel did have the balls, and when he took Jared’s cock in his mouth behind that locked bedroom door, all Jared could say was, “Fuck, bro. MAGA, bro. That’s so fuckin’ hot, bro,” before he came, five minutes later, flooding Daniel’s mouth with white hot cum.