MEN, MUSCLE, and MAYHEM (2 page)

“And, I have kept kosher for you, Mother,” Mordecai said as he kissed her on the cheek.

Just a few months later, his mother presented him with his first getup as Mordecai referred to his tights. And ever since, he has been Kosher Man.

# # # # #

The sun was baking Mordecai, but he did not care as the heat energized him. He thought about moving to Boca or Palm Springs but figured he’d wait until retirement when perhaps another crime fighter would emerge to take his place.

Mordecai was starting to doze when he heard the yell of a man in fear. He sat up on the chaise and tried to hone in the location of the scream.

“Five blocks northwest,” he said out loud. Then, Mordecai jumped from the chaise and headed for the door to the roof, opened it and disappeared down the flight of stairs to his apartment on the fourth floor. Within seconds, the window to his apartment opened, and a flash of dark blue and white flew out the window toward the northwest corner of Greenberg. Mordecai often wondered why no one ever noticed him flying out his window. But, city people were so oblivious to their own surroundings.

Once airborne, Kosher Man scanned the city, and his cape again flew in front of his face. “
Vaysmir
with this
feshtungina
cape,” he cursed out loud. He swept the fabric from his face then he located the man in trouble. In an alley next to The Lost Tribe Bar, a blond man was surrounded by four men dressed in jeans and black T-shirts, which was unusual for broad daylight, even in Greenburg.

Kosher Man slowed down and slowly descended upon the scene in the alley landing almost quietly behind the four assailants, except for the metal trash can lid he knocked over with the cape. The four men turned around.

“Oh look it’s the caped kike,” one of them said as he pointed to Kosher Man, laughing.

“Whom are you calling a kike?” Kosher Man said as he lurched forward, grabbed the insulter by the collar and slammed him against the wall, instantly knocking him out cold.

Within seconds, like a streak of light, Kosher Man had rounded up the other three men and wrapped them up in a water hose before they realized what hit them.

“Do you have a cell phone,” Kosher Man asked the blond man.

“Ye … yes,” he stammered. “Who are you?”

Over twenty years in Greenburg flying around fighting crime, and Kosher Man was surprised someone didn’t know who he was. “I’m Kosher Man,” he answered. It was then that Kosher Man got a good look at the man. He was in his early thirties if that old with a thick blond buzz cut, blue eyes, pale skin, but strong features. He was wearing a tight red shirt that displayed a fine physique, and he stood about five-foot ten. Kosher Man rarely went for the WASPy type, but he thought a romp with this one would be worth a few minutes of his time.

“What are you, some kind of superhero?” the man asked.

“You could say that. Now call the police before these hoodlums get loose. I have a city to patrol,” Kosher Man said as he prepared for takeoff, dramatically sweeping the bane of his existence – the dreaded cape – behind him.

“Wait!” the man yelled.

Kosher Man turned back to the man and looked at his pleading gentile eyes. “What? Call the police now,” the superhero asked then ordered.

“Don’t you want to know my name?” the man asked.

The Hebrew hunk thought for a moment, then answered, “That’s OK, kid, something tells me I’ll run into you again.” And with that, Kosher Man took flight.

He figured the
shegatz
(male
shicksa
) with the
goyshka
cup (gentile brain) would forget to call the police, so he swooped down on the first police car he saw, told the familiar officers what happened and where to find the criminals, and with that, he disappeared into the sky in search of more damsels – or dam-boys – in distress.

At around 4:00 am, Kosher Man zipped back into the open window of his apartment, closed the window, and with a flash, stripped off his costume, hiding it in the secret compartment in the back of his closet. He then brushed and flossed his teeth and showered in a manner of seconds and climbed into bed hoping for a good three hours of sleep.

However, Mordecai awoke two hours later with a raging boner. Spending his evenings fighting crime, with the exception of
Shabbat
, which he spent with his mother, and his days at the museum, stuck in the basement cataloguing, he rarely had a chance to go out and troll for sex.

Now, his balls were swollen, and his twelve inches (seven inches around in case you were wondering) of circumcised kosher meat with its large purple mushroom head was leaking precum like a faucet, begging for release. Mordecai ran his left hand down his muscular torso and using the abundance of precum, slicked up his dick and started stroking. It only took a few minutes before he was shooting straight for his open mouth, as he caught all he could, letting the rest drip down his chin, only to scoop it up and swallow it as well. Mordecai loved the taste of his own cum almost as much as that of the few Jewish guys he was able to pick up when he had those precious moments of free time.

He enjoyed a few more minutes basking in the afterglow and marveling at how his over-forty-year-old dick remained hard for quite a while before finally going slightly soft. Mordecai then climbed out of bed and took a long hot shower – rather than his usual supersonic one – before heading to work.

He had been in the basement for only a couple of hours, tending to his duties, when Sylvia came down, calling for him.

“Mordecai,” she bellowed over row after row of books and artifacts.

“Back here,” he answered, as he was looking at a piece of parchment through a magnifying glass while sitting at his desk.

Sylvia found her way back to his desk and stared at Mordecai. He was wearing loose fitting dark blue pants and a white oxford shirt that hung on his physique, being a size too large. On his head was the familiar yarmulke, and he was wearing his gray, plastic framed bifocals. (Even superheroes need reading glasses after a certain age, so when Mordecai’s time came, he chose bifocals. This way he could continue wearing his disguise all the time.) Mordecai looked up at Sylvia.

“You know, Mordecai, sometimes you remind me of Clark Kent,” she said with a smile.

He chuckled inside, wondering if she realized how close to reality she was with that observation.

“Anyway, Moshe called in sick,” she continued. “And, I need to go to a meeting. I need you upstairs to be the guest docent for a few hours until I get back. The fresh air will do you some good.”

“Now?” Mordecai asked.

“Yes,” she said motioning him to get up.

Mordecai stood up from the desk and ducked his head as he worked his way through the cramped basement.

“It is amazing you have any color at all being in this basement all the time … what has it been? twenty years?” she asked as she followed him upstairs.

“Close,” Mordecai answered as he walked upstairs to the main lobby of the museum, “but I sun myself on my rooftop on the weekends.”

With a flourish, Sylvia left, and Mordecai stood in the lobby looking awkward as usual. He strolled around and straightened a few of the pictures, when the door opened and a blond man walked in. Mordecai turned around and immediately recognized him – the victim from yesterday.

The man walked to the reception area, and Mordecai strolled over to greet him.

“Hi, how much to tour the museum?” he asked.

“Five dollars,” Mordecai answered. The man handed him the money, and with that, Mordecai gave him a ticket and a tour.

“And that is the end of the tour,” Mordecai said as he led the man back into the lobby an hour later.

“Can I ask you something?” the man asked, turning to face and look up at Mordecai. “What is your name?”

“Mordecai,” he answered. “And what is yours?”

“Robert … Robert Madison,” the man answered as he extended his hand. They shook. “Can I ask you another question?”

“Sure.”

“Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

Mordecai thought for a moment. In all his life, he never went on a date with a gentile. He hadn’t even had sex with one. But, he figured it had been a long time since he did anything. “Sure, but we will have to eat at my mother’s restaurant as I keep kosher and cannot eat forbidden foods.”

“OK, where’s that?” Robert asked.

“On twenty-fourth and H Streets, Mother Rose’s Restaurant. I’ll see you there at eight.”

And with that, Mordecai had a date.

Mordecai arrived at his mother’s restaurant a few minutes early. Rose had opened the restaurant soon after her husband died and Mordecai had moved to Greenburg. She knew her special son would only be able to eat strictly kosher food, and this way she could watch out for his diet without appearing to dote on him by cooking for him at his place or having him over for dinner every night.

Her eyes lit up at the sight of her only son, and at eighty-four, she was still in phenomenal shape, running her restaurant as she did the day she opened it twenty years before.

“Mordecai, shall I sit with you?”

“Actually, Mother, I have a date … I think,” he answered.

Rose looked concerned as she seated him at a booth in the back, the only one that could accommodate his large frame.

“With whom?” she asked.

“His name is Robert Madison, and I met him at the museum this afternoon,” Mordecai said as the waitress placed a bowl of kosher pickles and olives on the table.

“Mordecai, you have to be careful with the
goyim
. There are plenty of nice Jewish boys out there …”

“No, there aren’t, Mother,” Mordecai said. “Sometimes, I get tired of being alone. My life sometimes feels cursed …”

“Don’t you ever say that,” Rose said as she sat opposite him. “Your life is blessed. You remember that … and you be careful. A
shegatz
cannot be trusted.”

“Mother, you’re such a bigot,” Mordecai said with a smile.

“I am not. I just think one should date his own kind,” she said as she got up.

“Then I will date no one as I am one of a kind,” Mordecai said, just as he spotted Robert entering the restaurant.

Robert saw Mordecai and worked his way to the back of the dining room.

“Now here he is …”

“The blond? He looks like an Aryan,” Rose said with shock.

“Mother!”

Robert walked over to the booth as Mordecai stood and introduced his mother. She nodded, handed him a menu and walked away.

Dinner went smoothly, considering everyone in the restaurant was staring at them, and Rose appeared to be studying rather than observing the two men.

Mordecai went to pay the bill, but his mother would have none of it, so he left the equivalent as the tip, and he and Robert left the restaurant.

“Where to now?” Robert asked.

“Well, I have an early day tomorrow …”

“Don’t be silly, come to my place for a drink …”

“I don’t drink,” Mordecai quickly answered. “My people always eat, but rarely drink.”

“Mordecai, that was my way of getting you to my apartment to have a little fun,” Robert said with a smile.

“Oh,” Mordecai said naïvely.

“You don’t get out much, do you?”

Mordecai didn’t answer as they headed to Robert’s apartment.

Once inside, Robert did not waste any time. He pounced on Mordecai practically ripping off the museum cataloguer’s clothes as he drove his tongue into his mouth, and Mordecai did not resist. Robert then stepped back to remove his shirt, and his eyes popped as he got the first full view of Mordecai in nothing but a pair of white briefs.

“Oh my God,” Robert said as he slowly undressed himself. “Who knew that under all that baggy clothing stood an Adonis?” He removed the last stitch, and completely naked, walked over to Mordecai and ran his hands all over the superhero’s body, totally unaware that he had seen that physique before, only covered in dark blue tights and wearing a white mask. As he ran his hands up the back of Mordecai’s neck, he went to remove the
yarmulke,
but Mordecai stopped him.

“That stays on,” Mordecai said as he grabbed Robert’s wrist. Mordecai then ran his hands down Robert’s furry torso and grabbed his six-inch dick, which was raging hard. Not too large, but Mordecai always marveled at smaller penises, wondering what it would be like to be normal.

Robert grabbed the waist of Mordecai’s briefs and worked them down but had trouble stretching them past the tall Hebrew’s hard-on.

“Here, let me help you,” Mordecai said as he eased his foot-long schlong out of his briefs before sliding them down his huge thighs and kicking them away.

Robert reached for Mordecai’s kosher meat with his mouth agape and his eyes wide open. “I can’t get my hand around it. This is the biggest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Mordecai eased him over to the bed, and as Robert sat on the edge of the bed facing the Hebrew sausage, he tried to get his mouth around the baseball-sized head, but it was no use.

I am cursed
, Mordecai thought. But his dick was leaking so much precum that Robert worked the entire shaft and head with his tongue and lapped up every drop of the delicious nectar, moaning and leaking himself at the same time. With one hand, he stroked the length of it, and with the other, he felt every inch of Mordecai’s smooth, powerful body.

Mordecai eased him on his back and worked his legs over Robert’s head as he faced the
shegatz’s
crotch. Six inches was fine for Mordecai, for he could get the entire length in his mouth and enjoy every drop. Robert continued doing what he could with all that cock he was given to play with – stroking and licking – and his tongue found the sweet spot between the ball sac and the asshole, marveling at how hard even that was. He reached around and ran his hands all over Mordecai’s enormous muscular butt, all the while moaning in total ecstasy as his cock was deep into the hunky Hebrew’s mouth. Mordecai worked Robert’s cock, making it leak almost as much as his own while he rolled the gentile’s pink balls in his hand. He then worked his mouth down to those balls and sucked them individually and together before working his way back to the leaking head and slurping up all that tasty non-kosher precum. Mordecai wanted to make it last, but he was so turned on by what Robert was doing to him and what he was doing to Robert that he could not hold out much longer.