SKODEN The chronicles of Native Men

braids and bear grease lube

braids and bear grease lube

I, like my daddio, went to AA meetings every night, every morning, dreaming of racing through the steps. I succeeded. One step a month. It was easy at first, but then the real work started and fuck, it was brutal. But you wanna know what helped? I learned to let my inner chief child run loose and wild. He deserved it. I figure I was about eight when I took a couple knocks on the head. Like a hockey player, I have a little lisp. Like a retired football player, I get these dang headaches. So how I see it.... the little guy gets to play. Sounds about right to me... not here to be alive but to be living. I love paintball. I love titty bars. And base ball. Ah... it hits me in the feels. Going to powwows digs me deep inside. Still trying to figure out the hoop thing.

After my spiel in the AA circuit... the revelation hit me. The gym. The women. The tights. The stretching. I died and went to heaven. But not one chick checked me out. So, I gave up the soda drinks and late-night trips to Micky's and found my salvation: Q U I N O A. I was now a GQ kind of man. And during this time of healing... I decided to grow my hair out.

I was feeling pretty good about myself. Yeah. It got to a point where I started to mature up, a little. I felt good inside. It didn't bother me when I stood in line at Walmart and the woman at the till was all smiles until I stood in front of her. The slamming of my goods over the skewer didn't drive me nuts. The teller telling me to bag my own stuff... didn't bother me. I didn't care. It was my shit. I worked hard for it. I paid it. I took it home. It wasn't me standing behind that till and hangry and resting bitch faced and racist. I actually felt a twinge of sad for her/them. Must be a shitty bag of skin to be in, I'm thinking. I got along with most people. Especially at the gym. I loved it. I put my skull buds in and jammed out to my play list and worked my body out taking care of what Creator gave me. Maybe... a few times, I sat and m e d i t a t e d!!!! Holy shit that always felt good.

I was thinking life couldn't get any better... that is until she came along. Oh yeah. I seen her coming, her big breasts covered by a t-shirt with a big, orange F R Y B R E A D pasted front and center calling out my name...... God!

I found my muster point of safety. You know... that moment when you get enough courage to make eye contact and flick those eye brows up and down waiting for a response? And she responded all right!

I'll never forget it.

"Hey mister! You look mighty fine. But hey... how about the calve muscles."

I looked down at my new Nike N-7's.

Huh?

My legs look way better than they used to.

"Well... what do you mean?" I asked that fine lil sister.

"Looks like you need to work those calves out." Her eyebrows flicked down and up. Her eyes oh her eyes.

"Oh... I guess I'll find a workout on YouTube, eh?"

"Nah... I know just what you need."

That afternoon was crazy AF!

"Hey Fifty shades of braids, get over here." Oh, she practically purred. She sat at the edge of my bed and my bad? I fell in love... with her legs and kissed and licked her thighs. That fry bread shirt held her in place so lifted it up released her and I bounced her around and propped her up on my lap. She was dripping like warm bear grease ladled in a fry pan. Fuck. Just as I couldn't take it any more she whispered, "don't forget them calves." Oh, she naughty. She flipped onto the bed and spread her long black hair out all over my bed biting her bottom lip. I crawled up on her like a mountain lion then fucked her plank style up and down slowly in and out until they burned in pain making me collapse after one big deep lunge.

I put a ring on her finger. The rest is history. My calves are fucking epic and so is she. Oh, Laronda owns my tipi and my Nissan Titan truck. Really, she does. I bus it now. Dat okay boys! She braids my hair... don't be jelly!