Lord Long Rod
Diamond Member
- Jan 17, 2023
- 7,706
- 8,152
- 2,138
- Banned
- #1
So I was balls deep in a hot lil tamale there on my living room floor on the bear rug in front of a roaring fire. Her name is Maria. She is a waitress down at the Mexican joint where me and my sheet rock crew have lunch once or twice a week. Suddenly, in mid stroke, there came an awful loud knocking on my front door. My first inclination was to ignore it. However, the knocking became frantic. Then I heard the interloper calling my name. “ROD!!! ROD!!! YOU IN THAR?!?!”
“Shit!”, I thought to myself. It was Cletus, a friend and part of my crew. Motherfucker!! I continued pumping for a spell. But the knocking would not cease. Finally, Maria told me I had better answer the door because it was ruining the mood.
I walked to the door and threw it open. “CLETUS!! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN BY BANGING ON MY DOOR LIKE THAT?!? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!?”, I screamed. Then I noticed old Cletus looking down at my huge dinosauric wang standing at full attention. I said, “My face is up here, ya homo.”
I went ahead and invited Cletus in. Go git ya a Coors and relax while I finish off this here lil burrito. I went back to work. In a moment Cletus sat down on the couch facing us, popped open his beer, and took in the show. Frankly, his presence did not bother me, as I am a retired porn stud actor from back in the 1970s. I went by “Stone Jacker” back then.
Just as I was about to deliver my payload, Maria realized Cletus was there. She turned to him and with a smile said, “Oh, hi there, Cletus!! How was your Number 2 Combo yesterday? I hope you enjoyed it!”.
Fast forward an hour. Cletus and I were in my 370Z speeding off to our gun club, the “Cap-N-Ass Gun Range”. Clete filled me in on the journey. Apparently, a horrific tragedy had befallen our institution. Unfortunately, Cletus stutters and I could only understand about every fourth or fifth word out of him. It was about how something er other “woke” up and something called “gender fluidity”, whatever the hell that is. I just zoned old Clete out for the most of the trip while I enjoyed the CCR CD playing on my car stereo.
We got to the club and I walked straight to the clubhouse/lounge. Cletus was hot on my tail and stuttering all sort of rabid sounding jibber-jabber. I walked in and found 6 of our club members standing around looking all sort of confused and agitated. Old Buckeye, a founding member, said “Hell yeah! Long Rod is here! Now we will get to the bottom of this shit!” I nodded to him, then fixed my attention to the person standing in the center of the room. Oddly, it was a woman. But we do not have any woman members. I mean, ever now and again I may lure a stripper out here for prurient shenanigans, but we never admit them to our club. They would just fuck things up. Hell, half the current membership come out here on the weekend just to get away from their wives!
I walked up to the lil lady and asked, “Who the fuck are you?” This caused a grimace to appear on the chick’s face. I narrowed my eyes and moved closer, entering her space, to show I meant business. Her eyes widened in acknowledgment that she knew she were about to get her ass whooped. Then she held up both hands. Surrender. “OK! OK!! Don’t hurt me Rod!!”
The voice was vaguely familiar. How did she knowd my name? I squinted to try and make her out better. Did I know this stupid bitch? Finally, she spoke. “Rod, it’s me, Davenport.” I told her I didn’t know no skirt named Davenport. By this point, I was extracting the Glock 21 from my holster. This chick’s eyes got even wider. “Rod no!!! It’s me, Pete!!! I’m Pete!!!!!”, she exclaimed.
I paused my draw. “Pete?”, I asked. It took me a moment. But then it dawned on me. It was Pete “The Meat” Davenport, the club president. I was profoundly confused. Dazed, I looked at Pete, straight in the face, and asked, “Why are dressed like a fucking bitch? “ Pete (who now goes by “Peep Davenport”) explained that he recently “transitioned” into a woman.
I said, “Pete, you stupid son of a bitch! Nobody “transitions” into a woman. You is either born one or you ain’t. The rest of the club backed me up. Old Roy Evans spoke up, “What did you do with yer dick? Davenport replied that it was turned inside out and made into her new vagina. I asked, “Your what?”, to which Beauregard, our club treasure, replied, “He’s talking about his pussy Rod.” I was left scratching my head. His … PUSSY?!?
After that all hell broke loose in the clubhouse. It were an awful beatin’! Unfortunately, Davenport’s decision to go sissy did not negate the fighting abilities he gained while serving as a Navy Seal. We were all layin’ thar on the floor, writhing in pain, except for Davenport. Through a tear-soaked blubbering, he said “You will be hearing from the EEOC on account of this” as he slammed the clubhouse door behind him on the way out.
In the days that followed we all kind of just blocked this out of our heads. I been told that this is yer brain’s way of protecting us from trauma. We never did hear from no “EEOC”, whatever the hell that is. We all figured it had to do with vagina bleeding and such. We quickly installed old Buckshot Lee as the new president of the gun club, as he is now the only member without a rap sheet. Pretty soon all was forgotten and everthang returned back to normal.
“Shit!”, I thought to myself. It was Cletus, a friend and part of my crew. Motherfucker!! I continued pumping for a spell. But the knocking would not cease. Finally, Maria told me I had better answer the door because it was ruining the mood.
I walked to the door and threw it open. “CLETUS!! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN BY BANGING ON MY DOOR LIKE THAT?!? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!?”, I screamed. Then I noticed old Cletus looking down at my huge dinosauric wang standing at full attention. I said, “My face is up here, ya homo.”
I went ahead and invited Cletus in. Go git ya a Coors and relax while I finish off this here lil burrito. I went back to work. In a moment Cletus sat down on the couch facing us, popped open his beer, and took in the show. Frankly, his presence did not bother me, as I am a retired porn stud actor from back in the 1970s. I went by “Stone Jacker” back then.
Just as I was about to deliver my payload, Maria realized Cletus was there. She turned to him and with a smile said, “Oh, hi there, Cletus!! How was your Number 2 Combo yesterday? I hope you enjoyed it!”.
Fast forward an hour. Cletus and I were in my 370Z speeding off to our gun club, the “Cap-N-Ass Gun Range”. Clete filled me in on the journey. Apparently, a horrific tragedy had befallen our institution. Unfortunately, Cletus stutters and I could only understand about every fourth or fifth word out of him. It was about how something er other “woke” up and something called “gender fluidity”, whatever the hell that is. I just zoned old Clete out for the most of the trip while I enjoyed the CCR CD playing on my car stereo.
We got to the club and I walked straight to the clubhouse/lounge. Cletus was hot on my tail and stuttering all sort of rabid sounding jibber-jabber. I walked in and found 6 of our club members standing around looking all sort of confused and agitated. Old Buckeye, a founding member, said “Hell yeah! Long Rod is here! Now we will get to the bottom of this shit!” I nodded to him, then fixed my attention to the person standing in the center of the room. Oddly, it was a woman. But we do not have any woman members. I mean, ever now and again I may lure a stripper out here for prurient shenanigans, but we never admit them to our club. They would just fuck things up. Hell, half the current membership come out here on the weekend just to get away from their wives!
I walked up to the lil lady and asked, “Who the fuck are you?” This caused a grimace to appear on the chick’s face. I narrowed my eyes and moved closer, entering her space, to show I meant business. Her eyes widened in acknowledgment that she knew she were about to get her ass whooped. Then she held up both hands. Surrender. “OK! OK!! Don’t hurt me Rod!!”
The voice was vaguely familiar. How did she knowd my name? I squinted to try and make her out better. Did I know this stupid bitch? Finally, she spoke. “Rod, it’s me, Davenport.” I told her I didn’t know no skirt named Davenport. By this point, I was extracting the Glock 21 from my holster. This chick’s eyes got even wider. “Rod no!!! It’s me, Pete!!! I’m Pete!!!!!”, she exclaimed.
I paused my draw. “Pete?”, I asked. It took me a moment. But then it dawned on me. It was Pete “The Meat” Davenport, the club president. I was profoundly confused. Dazed, I looked at Pete, straight in the face, and asked, “Why are dressed like a fucking bitch? “ Pete (who now goes by “Peep Davenport”) explained that he recently “transitioned” into a woman.
I said, “Pete, you stupid son of a bitch! Nobody “transitions” into a woman. You is either born one or you ain’t. The rest of the club backed me up. Old Roy Evans spoke up, “What did you do with yer dick? Davenport replied that it was turned inside out and made into her new vagina. I asked, “Your what?”, to which Beauregard, our club treasure, replied, “He’s talking about his pussy Rod.” I was left scratching my head. His … PUSSY?!?
After that all hell broke loose in the clubhouse. It were an awful beatin’! Unfortunately, Davenport’s decision to go sissy did not negate the fighting abilities he gained while serving as a Navy Seal. We were all layin’ thar on the floor, writhing in pain, except for Davenport. Through a tear-soaked blubbering, he said “You will be hearing from the EEOC on account of this” as he slammed the clubhouse door behind him on the way out.
In the days that followed we all kind of just blocked this out of our heads. I been told that this is yer brain’s way of protecting us from trauma. We never did hear from no “EEOC”, whatever the hell that is. We all figured it had to do with vagina bleeding and such. We quickly installed old Buckshot Lee as the new president of the gun club, as he is now the only member without a rap sheet. Pretty soon all was forgotten and everthang returned back to normal.
