So I heard from Mule, that some of you f@gs have major crushes on me, and have been wondering what your Ebony Hero has been up to of late. I thought to myself "Well ain't that special, Mule's blog readers are all sweet on Tyrone!" But then I looked in the mirror, and thought OF COURSE THEY ARE, having to deal all this time with the pale reflection of me that is the Mule, no WONDER, they are pining for some dark meat.
So lately your Tyrone has been earning the benjies as a bouncer for some of the happening clubs around town. As you know, I have a special set of skills for smashing and bashing crackahs and take great pleasure in my work. So me 'n' the crew been beating the crap outta crackah pussies who think they all tha' but ain't shit. We explained the situation to them with our fists, giving them some lumps, bruises and contusions to remind them of jus' who runs the club scene around heh'.
Not quite enough to put them in the hospital, but enuf to put them in a world of hurt for days.
Last weekend, I'mma working the door, crowds are lovin' it, seeing me, I'm a damn celebrity in this town...
Any way, a couple of weekends ago, the usual drunk-assed preppy f@gs from the local college thought they were tough because they went to the gym and had a varsity jacket...long story short...simple choke hold, knee, punch and they are down then we throw them into a dumpster in the alleyway, we put 8 of these crackahs in it at once, squashed 'em in like tuna in a can. Typical night with the crew, dumpsters 'round back be full of these drunken crackah shit-for-brains, who thought it would be smart to tangle with us. College kids, go figah', must be letting the 'tards go to college these days!
So as is routine, when our shift was done, we had the usual Suzie Co-eds wanting to ride our dicks, and I be giving it to them LONG DICK STYLE.
So as is routine, when our shift was done, we had the usual Suzie Co-eds wanting to ride our dicks, and I be giving it to them LONG DICK STYLE.
Last weekend, I'mma working the door, crowds are lovin' it, seeing me, I'm a damn celebrity in this town...
I'm like "Chill the fuck out", but these guys and gals are pressing in close trying to get a glimpse an' cop a quick feel of my strong-assed self and bulging muscles, especially since I'm rockin' a fine Italian suit, custom made 'cuz no off the rack job going to fit over my bulging boulders! This suit really shows off my frame, to good effect. From my broad shoulders to my narrow waist. Women and men equally be looking me over, undressing me with their eyes, and imagining contingencies, with the hunger of a fat kid for cake. I be pickin' up digits like mad...
People are texting each other, soon musta been 1000 outside the club taking pictures of me and the crew, begging to get in offering financial and sexual inducements. The press of the crowd begins to be more and more resembling a stampede, guys start shoving some girlz and the crew's like "fuck this" and jump in, nailing people upside the head,
People are texting each other, soon musta been 1000 outside the club taking pictures of me and the crew, begging to get in offering financial and sexual inducements. The press of the crowd begins to be more and more resembling a stampede, guys start shoving some girlz and the crew's like "fuck this" and jump in, nailing people upside the head,
I break out the bats we keep behind the door, cracking skulls all over the fucking place.
Women love this shit, they going all wet, as the male crackahs are taking their lumps like they be Peter Puma.
I'm top dog and the honeys can't get enough of me whoopin' ass!
I'm givin' them swoonin' chicas & f@gs a show, they be catching glimpses of my strong ass face in between swings of the blood soaked bat, recording me on their phones for later spank sessions, like it's all a damn photo shoot.
Next thing I know some pussy-ass crackah draws a gun, my buddy little T makes a grab and gets hit, good thing the crew wear vests, I don't, I ain't got time for that pussy shit, so I go for the guido mafiaso wannabe with a 'Son, somebody about to get their shit messed up' look on my face. I see a flash but don't feel shit since I'm jacked up with adrenaline, and 10' tall and bullet-proof black muscle stud...so I tackle this guy and the crew goes to work on his skull while I kick his gun down a drain. That guy wasn't going to the dumpster, he was going to INTENSIVE CARE. Meanwhile the crowds gone fucking wild!
Crew locks down the club and callin' the 911, girls are all over me crying an' shit and , I'm all Venturing like "I ain't got time to bleed" and sip some $1000 champange with a shit-eating grin upon my face, sloots kissing me all over to make me feel bettah!
When the ambulances arrive for me and the pulverized crackah,
The guido is gurneyed away on the wheeled stretchah hollerin' like a bitch in labor, and the medics tending to me couldn't believe their fucking eyes, turns out my jacked up muscle fibras stopped that 9 in its tracks, like organic body armor or some shit, hardly penetrated and was deformed like it hit a brick wall.
A normal pussied-ass guy would've hit the bricks and died, a bullet ain't shit to 260 lbs. of coiled up fibras, you don't gotta be a rock scientist to know that. The medics were tenting their uniforms in appreciation of sinewy anatomy the likes of which they'd never seen before!
So I was stitched up and bandaged, and discharged forty minutes later into the home custody of a trio of hot nurses who got it long-dick style. Now I know some of y'all will be a tad skeptical, but don't y'all forget...
Next thing I know some pussy-ass crackah draws a gun, my buddy little T makes a grab and gets hit, good thing the crew wear vests, I don't, I ain't got time for that pussy shit, so I go for the guido mafiaso wannabe with a 'Son, somebody about to get their shit messed up' look on my face. I see a flash but don't feel shit since I'm jacked up with adrenaline, and 10' tall and bullet-proof black muscle stud...so I tackle this guy and the crew goes to work on his skull while I kick his gun down a drain. That guy wasn't going to the dumpster, he was going to INTENSIVE CARE. Meanwhile the crowds gone fucking wild!
Crew locks down the club and callin' the 911, girls are all over me crying an' shit and , I'm all Venturing like "I ain't got time to bleed" and sip some $1000 champange with a shit-eating grin upon my face, sloots kissing me all over to make me feel bettah!
When the ambulances arrive for me and the pulverized crackah,
The guido is gurneyed away on the wheeled stretchah hollerin' like a bitch in labor, and the medics tending to me couldn't believe their fucking eyes, turns out my jacked up muscle fibras stopped that 9 in its tracks, like organic body armor or some shit, hardly penetrated and was deformed like it hit a brick wall.
A normal pussied-ass guy would've hit the bricks and died, a bullet ain't shit to 260 lbs. of coiled up fibras, you don't gotta be a rock scientist to know that. The medics were tenting their uniforms in appreciation of sinewy anatomy the likes of which they'd never seen before!
So I was stitched up and bandaged, and discharged forty minutes later into the home custody of a trio of hot nurses who got it long-dick style. Now I know some of y'all will be a tad skeptical, but don't y'all forget...
I'M TYRONE!
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