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Big Black Chuck
Star
- Joined
- Jul 14, 2016
- Location
- Coxville County
Hey, my name's Chuck, as you can see, and I really like interracial scenes and taboo kink. I had an idea for basically my dream scene, and figured a way to get us to just start things off at the fun part. And rather than warning my potential partners about how much I write and hope to see written in response, I figured I'd just write up a prompt and anyone who is interested can respond to me in a PM.
Every post doesn't have to be quite this long, but it sure would be nice. I could do longer too, if you happen to be the kind of writer I've never met but drool at the thought of such a descriptive gal. Also, I'm very patient and reasonable. I don't expect a post of this size to come out every day, nor will they come from my end necessarily. I'm cool with waiting up to a week for a response. Even longer, really, as long as you let me know.
"Uggh, can't you tell me ANYTHING about this scene to see if it's worth my time reading all this dribble?"
Uh, sure, that's a reasonable request. There's no need to be rude though.
What lies before you: Group scenes, gangbangs, DPs, girl-on-girl-incest, massive sizes and unrealistic proportions, incredible amounts of cum, unbelievable fucking-ability, rough sex, name-calling, kinky outfits, exhibitionism, debasement. FILTH.
What can be changed? The girls inside don't have to be related, if that's a turn-off for you. There could be anywhere between two girls and, I dunno, five? Whatever you're comfortable with. They could be neighbors, friends, whatever. Though my perfect scenario definitely involves a Mom and daughter. Maybe more than one daughter. And maybe a friend. ... What can I say? I'm greedy. And insatiable.
So, all that said, as if I haven't written enough already, I present to you... MASSIVE TEXT BLOCK.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“All right, nigga. You go’n finally tell us what this shit is really about? Or are you still wantin’ to be playin' games ’n shit?”
Franklin smiled and leaned contentedly against the passenger door as the big black Suburban coasted up the freshly-paved, curved roads of this tucked-away, hidden, wealthy neighborhood far away from the city. Though the ride had become considerably more comfortable with every mile they got away from the city's pothole-infested streets, the mood in the car became more and more tense as Franklin’s associates questioned the veracity of his claims.
“I already dun told you niggas what’s up, and ya’ll don’ wanna believe me. So fuck it, we’ll get there and you’ll see fo’ yourselves.”
“Uh-huh, yeah well just know I ain’t never believed a fuckin’ word you said. I just came to see the looks on dese niggas faces when dey realize you dun’ punked dey asses again.” Came another baritone voice from the backseat, followed by a fourth.
“Nigga, this better not be another one of yo’ practical jokes or I swear…”
Franklin’s smile only grew wider and more bright as the Suburban twisted and climbed up the winding hills, moving further into territory in which men like them weren’t typically seen. Nor welcomed. This added to the growing tension inside the Suburban, as each man’s eyes began darting around worriedly, knowing they were more and more likely to come upon some police cars as they delved deeper and deeper into the richest neighborhood in the state. It was a bizarre, ironic notion, that these men would be more concerned in the safer, wealthier neighborhoods, than they were in the run-down, crime-infested inner city that they came from. But, considering that more than half of these men were often responsible for that crime, it did in fact make sense.
Even Franklin, who had made this trip a few times now, found himself instinctively leaning back deeper into his seat, and pulling his bright red ball cap further downward as the big Suburban passed another cop car. With every mile they drove, the group of black men came across more and more police officers, and within the last ten minutes they had seen more in this quiet, wealthy, green suburbia than they did in an entire month in the part of the city they came from. Every person inside the SUV was becoming more worried about this trip, and more doubtful of Franklin’s claims, with each passing minute.
So much so, that the driver’s phone began to ring, which was promptly picked up by the giant Rodney with a swift move of his right hand.
Over the car speakers, a high-pitched and ghettoized voice came, “Niggas, dat’s like the tenf fuckin’ pig we seen. Let’s turn the fuck around now. Franklin, you’s gettin’ a beatin’ once we get back, muthafucka…”
Every man inside the SUV instinctively turned around and looked behind them, to the twin black SUV following them up these winding hills. Franklin had decided that just four or five of his ilk wouldn’t be enough, so they piled into a second automobile. And, as would be expected, they were even more doubtful of their companion’s promises.
“You niggas need to calm down. We almost at the top. We, like, a minute away.”
“Yeah, a minute away from gettin’ our brains bashed in by the popo…”
“Nigga, I ain’t join’ back to jail, you can believe dat.”
“Would ya’ll just calm dow-“
“No, muthafucka! I ain’t fuckin’ playin’ dis game no’ mo. Turn dis shit around, Rodney.”
“Yeah, we wasted enough of our time.”
The three other people inside Franklin’s SUV began yelling at him, while another group were screaming at him simultaneously over the phone, creating a cyclone of indistinguishable noise that made Franklin fume.
“AllrightAllrightAllrightALLRIGHT…” bellowed Rodney as he continued to drive, with a stern, contemplative look upon his face. “Fuckin’ shut up fo’ a second. Franklin say we almost dere anyway, so let’s just keep drivin’” The SUV became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Rodney was easily the most intimidating of the bunch, with a rap sheet almost as tall as he was. 6’7’’ last he measured, with enough muscle to make one question how he wasn’t a starting lineman in the NFL.
“In the meantime…” he continued, “It’s been, what, two hours since you tol’ us why we comin’ up here, nigga? Why don’t you tell us again. See if your story matches up with the first tale you tol’.”
Franklin’s smile grew wide, an innate response to the memories swimming about in his head. The SUV remained eerily quiet. As doubtful as they were, they did like hearing this story.
“It’s like I fuckin’ told ya’ll niggas. ‘Bout two weeks back, I fuckin’ saw the finest fuckin’ bitch I ever seen in my life. Fuckin’ thick like you never seen, like some cartoonish hood bitch, or Latina. But sh white. And I mean, like white like some fuckin’ country club cracka wife or some shit. She was dressed all classy, had a valet pull up a top-a-da-line Bentley, more jewelry on her neck den any of us, hair all done up and shit…” Franklin couldn’t help but shift in his seat, and grab his crotch a bit as he thought about it again. Somehow, the car became even more quiet, even as the phone stayed connected to the other line.
“Fffuck, I’m telling’ you niggas, she’s unlike anything you ever seen befo’. Her fuckin’ dress probably cost more dan both dese fuckin’ cars. And it shoulda cost a fuckin’ mint too, since she was stretchin’ dat fuckin’ thing out fo’ all it was worth.” Franklin couldn’t help himself as he bounced in his seat a little, biting into his thick lower lip as he thought about it. “Niggas, hers tits were like… fuckin’ obscene n shit. Bigger den DD. Dey bounced around her fuckin' neck wit' every step she took … And dat ass? Ooooh shit… niggas, you could see dat thing from da front. Mo’ ass dan you ever seen on a white bitch, and as smooth and perky as could possibly be. Dis bitch must spend all day at da fuckin’ gym. Her waist fuckin’ disappeared between dem cheeks and dem tits, niggas. And I could bounce a brick off her muthafuckin’ donk.”
“Sounds like I’d like to bounce my fuckin’ dick off it,” Rodney contributed. There was laughter both form the backseats, and over the speakers. The mood was lightening up as Franklin’s story was so captivating. As expected. It involved all the things black men dreamed of.
“Yeah, dat’s what I’m fuckin’ talkin’ bout, nigga.” Franklin and Rodney clapped hands as they continued to drive, before Franklin went on with the story.
“So, I fuckin’ followed da bitch. I just… I just couldn’t fuckin’ not take a shot. So I followed downtown, into some hotel. Pretended to be staff, still had my suit on from the restaurant, and asked her if she wanted help with her bags. Beat dat bellboy to the punch. She said yes, I followed her up to the penthouse, and I made my move.
“… and dat’s when the bitch kneed me in the balls.”
The SUV erupted in laughter, and even Franklin smiled. It was water under the bridge at this point for him. Actually a fond memory, considering what came of it in the end.
“Haha, bitch really does hit the gym. She dropped me like fuckin’ Mike Tyson in her knee or some shit. … Niggas, I thought I was done. I sat there on the floor for a good minute, just expectin’ security to come up, or da cops, or for dis rich white bitch to shoot me. We all know she could get away with it…
“But when I finally looked up, she was just strain’ at me. Or, strain’ at my shit…”
“Haha, nigga! You were so thirsty for dat white booty meat you had already pulled yo' dick out?”
Everyone laughed, including Franklin, even as he nodded. “Nigga, trust. All ya’ll will be. Dis bitch is unreal…” The SUV became awkwardly silent. And anxious.
“Nigga… she was just starin’ at it. And you niggas know I’m packin’. And den finally, after not movin' for like a minute, she bent over, and helped me up, and dis sexy bitch apologized… before she reached out and started strokin’ me, asking if I was ok. And… dat was it… she was hooked. We fucked all night. And den the next day. And da next. And da next... Niggas, dat's why ya'll ain't seen me in like two weeks. Bitch can't get enough."
“Hooked on dat BBC.”
Franklin nodded. “Yeah, nigga. I could tell just by the way dis bitch was built dat she liked dick, but I didn’t know she never had it befo’. Apparently she only been with her husband and a couple of white boys in college. She a fuckin’ pristine, educated, fuckin’ high-class, fuckin’… uh… uh… sophisticated, classy fuckin’ bitch, y’know? She don’t even cuss… except when she fuckin’…”
“Yeah, you said she had a filthy mouth?”
“Nigga, she have a filthy everything. She do everything the nastiest, kinkiest pornstar do, only better. She, like, a born-natural BBC-addicted slut. It’s in her fuckin’ genes.”
The car burst out laughing again. Followed by the most important observation.
“Yeah, well, it must be, nigga, if what you tol' us about her daughter is true.” There were a couple of nods inside the SUV, and Franklin explained why.
“Yeah, nigga, dat fuckin’ daughter walked in on us once… then the second time, she crawled in on us. Fuckin’ bitch takes after her mom, dat’s fo sho’. … She ain’t built exactly like her mama doe. While mom be, like, the black man’s dream of what a woman should look like, the daughter be like… a trust fund white boy’s dream woman. She like mom without the sex steroids, y’hear?”
“Yeah, and you said they wild and kinky too, nigga?”
“Nigga, as hot as dey be? Dey even kinkier. Nastier. Dey don't jus' say everything you wanna hear, but dey fuckin' scream it. Whisper it in yo' ear to wake you up for Round 4, y'heard? Fuckin’ put porno bitches to shame. … Dat’s why you niggas comin’ along. Dese bitches fuckin’ insaaatiable n’ shit.”
One of Franklin’s companions suddenly smacked his lips, plucked out of the trance everyone was in, for whatever reason, “Nigga, if dey the fuckin’ freaks you say dey are, why the fuck you bringing us along? Why not just keep dem for yo’self?”
“I just told you, nigga. Dey insatiable. I fucked them bitches for like… a full work day and shit. Until I collapsed across dey couch, house a mess, until I could barely stand… and dey both still crawling all over me, kissing me and stroking my shit, trying to get one more round in. So I told dem… next time dey see me, I’m gonna make sure dey get used and abused just the way dey like, until dey pass out. With dem big pretty white girl smiles on dey faces… oh shit, we here nigga. Here, right here. See dat big gate? Yeah, it’s open. … Told ya, nigga. Go on in… nigga, turn in right here, fuckin’ don’t bitch out now.”
The SUV slowly turned into a driveway, protected by a huge black gate that was, as Franklin said it would be, open. As both SUVs passed through the gate, Franklin turned around inside the car and pointed his phone at the gate, and a second later the thing closed, locking a police car out that had been trailing them for nearly a minute.
“Oh shit… is this nigga really telling us the truth?”
“Nah, nigga. Too good to be true. Brother here be talkin’ ‘bout Nigga Paradise. Whatchu tryin’ to get us to do, Franklin? Rob dis place with you?”
The place in question still wasn’t quite in view, as there was so much long, winding driveway to climb up. But a few seconds later, the men in the SUVs gasped in awe at the ridiculous mansion that slowly appeared over the horizon. Sitting comfortably at the very top of the hill, looking like it was balanced there precariously, with a circular driveway swinging right across the front entrance, and half a incredibly expensive cars parked outside the twelve car garage. The placed seemed to glitter with gold and diamonds even from the outside, the entire world around the house looking to dim in contrast with the manor’s splendor.
The cars came to a stop outside the front door, and Franklin nearly jumped out. “All right, niggas. We finally here. Now just remember what you niggas said to me earlier; if I wasn’t lying, you all owe me a hundred.”
The men chuckled as they piled out, each hulking black stud seemingly bigger and more muscular than the last, until out of the two SUVs nine of them were gathering around the front entrance. “Nigga, if this is what you say it is, den why so little? You could be hoein’ dese bitches out for like a G easy.”
Franklin started climbing the steps to the front door, and waited until he rang the bell, which sent a series of lovely bells echoing throughout every floor of the massive house. Then, Franklin responded, as he looked over his shoulder at his eight partners.
“Because, nigga. Dis rich bitch said she’d give me 10 grand for each one of you.”
Before any of the others could laugh, a small commotion could be heard on the other side of the giant, imposing door, before it slowly opened. From inside, all that would be seen were two SUVs parked over the shoulders of nine black men, eight of which had their jaws slowly dropping to the floor at what they saw, while Franklin stood in the middle of them all, smiling brightly.
Every post doesn't have to be quite this long, but it sure would be nice. I could do longer too, if you happen to be the kind of writer I've never met but drool at the thought of such a descriptive gal. Also, I'm very patient and reasonable. I don't expect a post of this size to come out every day, nor will they come from my end necessarily. I'm cool with waiting up to a week for a response. Even longer, really, as long as you let me know.
"Uggh, can't you tell me ANYTHING about this scene to see if it's worth my time reading all this dribble?"
Uh, sure, that's a reasonable request. There's no need to be rude though.
What lies before you: Group scenes, gangbangs, DPs, girl-on-girl-incest, massive sizes and unrealistic proportions, incredible amounts of cum, unbelievable fucking-ability, rough sex, name-calling, kinky outfits, exhibitionism, debasement. FILTH.
What can be changed? The girls inside don't have to be related, if that's a turn-off for you. There could be anywhere between two girls and, I dunno, five? Whatever you're comfortable with. They could be neighbors, friends, whatever. Though my perfect scenario definitely involves a Mom and daughter. Maybe more than one daughter. And maybe a friend. ... What can I say? I'm greedy. And insatiable.
So, all that said, as if I haven't written enough already, I present to you... MASSIVE TEXT BLOCK.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“All right, nigga. You go’n finally tell us what this shit is really about? Or are you still wantin’ to be playin' games ’n shit?”
Franklin smiled and leaned contentedly against the passenger door as the big black Suburban coasted up the freshly-paved, curved roads of this tucked-away, hidden, wealthy neighborhood far away from the city. Though the ride had become considerably more comfortable with every mile they got away from the city's pothole-infested streets, the mood in the car became more and more tense as Franklin’s associates questioned the veracity of his claims.
“I already dun told you niggas what’s up, and ya’ll don’ wanna believe me. So fuck it, we’ll get there and you’ll see fo’ yourselves.”
“Uh-huh, yeah well just know I ain’t never believed a fuckin’ word you said. I just came to see the looks on dese niggas faces when dey realize you dun’ punked dey asses again.” Came another baritone voice from the backseat, followed by a fourth.
“Nigga, this better not be another one of yo’ practical jokes or I swear…”
Franklin’s smile only grew wider and more bright as the Suburban twisted and climbed up the winding hills, moving further into territory in which men like them weren’t typically seen. Nor welcomed. This added to the growing tension inside the Suburban, as each man’s eyes began darting around worriedly, knowing they were more and more likely to come upon some police cars as they delved deeper and deeper into the richest neighborhood in the state. It was a bizarre, ironic notion, that these men would be more concerned in the safer, wealthier neighborhoods, than they were in the run-down, crime-infested inner city that they came from. But, considering that more than half of these men were often responsible for that crime, it did in fact make sense.
Even Franklin, who had made this trip a few times now, found himself instinctively leaning back deeper into his seat, and pulling his bright red ball cap further downward as the big Suburban passed another cop car. With every mile they drove, the group of black men came across more and more police officers, and within the last ten minutes they had seen more in this quiet, wealthy, green suburbia than they did in an entire month in the part of the city they came from. Every person inside the SUV was becoming more worried about this trip, and more doubtful of Franklin’s claims, with each passing minute.
So much so, that the driver’s phone began to ring, which was promptly picked up by the giant Rodney with a swift move of his right hand.
Over the car speakers, a high-pitched and ghettoized voice came, “Niggas, dat’s like the tenf fuckin’ pig we seen. Let’s turn the fuck around now. Franklin, you’s gettin’ a beatin’ once we get back, muthafucka…”
Every man inside the SUV instinctively turned around and looked behind them, to the twin black SUV following them up these winding hills. Franklin had decided that just four or five of his ilk wouldn’t be enough, so they piled into a second automobile. And, as would be expected, they were even more doubtful of their companion’s promises.
“You niggas need to calm down. We almost at the top. We, like, a minute away.”
“Yeah, a minute away from gettin’ our brains bashed in by the popo…”
“Nigga, I ain’t join’ back to jail, you can believe dat.”
“Would ya’ll just calm dow-“
“No, muthafucka! I ain’t fuckin’ playin’ dis game no’ mo. Turn dis shit around, Rodney.”
“Yeah, we wasted enough of our time.”
The three other people inside Franklin’s SUV began yelling at him, while another group were screaming at him simultaneously over the phone, creating a cyclone of indistinguishable noise that made Franklin fume.
“AllrightAllrightAllrightALLRIGHT…” bellowed Rodney as he continued to drive, with a stern, contemplative look upon his face. “Fuckin’ shut up fo’ a second. Franklin say we almost dere anyway, so let’s just keep drivin’” The SUV became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Rodney was easily the most intimidating of the bunch, with a rap sheet almost as tall as he was. 6’7’’ last he measured, with enough muscle to make one question how he wasn’t a starting lineman in the NFL.
“In the meantime…” he continued, “It’s been, what, two hours since you tol’ us why we comin’ up here, nigga? Why don’t you tell us again. See if your story matches up with the first tale you tol’.”
Franklin’s smile grew wide, an innate response to the memories swimming about in his head. The SUV remained eerily quiet. As doubtful as they were, they did like hearing this story.
“It’s like I fuckin’ told ya’ll niggas. ‘Bout two weeks back, I fuckin’ saw the finest fuckin’ bitch I ever seen in my life. Fuckin’ thick like you never seen, like some cartoonish hood bitch, or Latina. But sh white. And I mean, like white like some fuckin’ country club cracka wife or some shit. She was dressed all classy, had a valet pull up a top-a-da-line Bentley, more jewelry on her neck den any of us, hair all done up and shit…” Franklin couldn’t help but shift in his seat, and grab his crotch a bit as he thought about it again. Somehow, the car became even more quiet, even as the phone stayed connected to the other line.
“Fffuck, I’m telling’ you niggas, she’s unlike anything you ever seen befo’. Her fuckin’ dress probably cost more dan both dese fuckin’ cars. And it shoulda cost a fuckin’ mint too, since she was stretchin’ dat fuckin’ thing out fo’ all it was worth.” Franklin couldn’t help himself as he bounced in his seat a little, biting into his thick lower lip as he thought about it. “Niggas, hers tits were like… fuckin’ obscene n shit. Bigger den DD. Dey bounced around her fuckin' neck wit' every step she took … And dat ass? Ooooh shit… niggas, you could see dat thing from da front. Mo’ ass dan you ever seen on a white bitch, and as smooth and perky as could possibly be. Dis bitch must spend all day at da fuckin’ gym. Her waist fuckin’ disappeared between dem cheeks and dem tits, niggas. And I could bounce a brick off her muthafuckin’ donk.”
“Sounds like I’d like to bounce my fuckin’ dick off it,” Rodney contributed. There was laughter both form the backseats, and over the speakers. The mood was lightening up as Franklin’s story was so captivating. As expected. It involved all the things black men dreamed of.
“Yeah, dat’s what I’m fuckin’ talkin’ bout, nigga.” Franklin and Rodney clapped hands as they continued to drive, before Franklin went on with the story.
“So, I fuckin’ followed da bitch. I just… I just couldn’t fuckin’ not take a shot. So I followed downtown, into some hotel. Pretended to be staff, still had my suit on from the restaurant, and asked her if she wanted help with her bags. Beat dat bellboy to the punch. She said yes, I followed her up to the penthouse, and I made my move.
“… and dat’s when the bitch kneed me in the balls.”
The SUV erupted in laughter, and even Franklin smiled. It was water under the bridge at this point for him. Actually a fond memory, considering what came of it in the end.
“Haha, bitch really does hit the gym. She dropped me like fuckin’ Mike Tyson in her knee or some shit. … Niggas, I thought I was done. I sat there on the floor for a good minute, just expectin’ security to come up, or da cops, or for dis rich white bitch to shoot me. We all know she could get away with it…
“But when I finally looked up, she was just strain’ at me. Or, strain’ at my shit…”
“Haha, nigga! You were so thirsty for dat white booty meat you had already pulled yo' dick out?”
Everyone laughed, including Franklin, even as he nodded. “Nigga, trust. All ya’ll will be. Dis bitch is unreal…” The SUV became awkwardly silent. And anxious.
“Nigga… she was just starin’ at it. And you niggas know I’m packin’. And den finally, after not movin' for like a minute, she bent over, and helped me up, and dis sexy bitch apologized… before she reached out and started strokin’ me, asking if I was ok. And… dat was it… she was hooked. We fucked all night. And den the next day. And da next. And da next... Niggas, dat's why ya'll ain't seen me in like two weeks. Bitch can't get enough."
“Hooked on dat BBC.”
Franklin nodded. “Yeah, nigga. I could tell just by the way dis bitch was built dat she liked dick, but I didn’t know she never had it befo’. Apparently she only been with her husband and a couple of white boys in college. She a fuckin’ pristine, educated, fuckin’ high-class, fuckin’… uh… uh… sophisticated, classy fuckin’ bitch, y’know? She don’t even cuss… except when she fuckin’…”
“Yeah, you said she had a filthy mouth?”
“Nigga, she have a filthy everything. She do everything the nastiest, kinkiest pornstar do, only better. She, like, a born-natural BBC-addicted slut. It’s in her fuckin’ genes.”
The car burst out laughing again. Followed by the most important observation.
“Yeah, well, it must be, nigga, if what you tol' us about her daughter is true.” There were a couple of nods inside the SUV, and Franklin explained why.
“Yeah, nigga, dat fuckin’ daughter walked in on us once… then the second time, she crawled in on us. Fuckin’ bitch takes after her mom, dat’s fo sho’. … She ain’t built exactly like her mama doe. While mom be, like, the black man’s dream of what a woman should look like, the daughter be like… a trust fund white boy’s dream woman. She like mom without the sex steroids, y’hear?”
“Yeah, and you said they wild and kinky too, nigga?”
“Nigga, as hot as dey be? Dey even kinkier. Nastier. Dey don't jus' say everything you wanna hear, but dey fuckin' scream it. Whisper it in yo' ear to wake you up for Round 4, y'heard? Fuckin’ put porno bitches to shame. … Dat’s why you niggas comin’ along. Dese bitches fuckin’ insaaatiable n’ shit.”
One of Franklin’s companions suddenly smacked his lips, plucked out of the trance everyone was in, for whatever reason, “Nigga, if dey the fuckin’ freaks you say dey are, why the fuck you bringing us along? Why not just keep dem for yo’self?”
“I just told you, nigga. Dey insatiable. I fucked them bitches for like… a full work day and shit. Until I collapsed across dey couch, house a mess, until I could barely stand… and dey both still crawling all over me, kissing me and stroking my shit, trying to get one more round in. So I told dem… next time dey see me, I’m gonna make sure dey get used and abused just the way dey like, until dey pass out. With dem big pretty white girl smiles on dey faces… oh shit, we here nigga. Here, right here. See dat big gate? Yeah, it’s open. … Told ya, nigga. Go on in… nigga, turn in right here, fuckin’ don’t bitch out now.”
The SUV slowly turned into a driveway, protected by a huge black gate that was, as Franklin said it would be, open. As both SUVs passed through the gate, Franklin turned around inside the car and pointed his phone at the gate, and a second later the thing closed, locking a police car out that had been trailing them for nearly a minute.
“Oh shit… is this nigga really telling us the truth?”
“Nah, nigga. Too good to be true. Brother here be talkin’ ‘bout Nigga Paradise. Whatchu tryin’ to get us to do, Franklin? Rob dis place with you?”
The place in question still wasn’t quite in view, as there was so much long, winding driveway to climb up. But a few seconds later, the men in the SUVs gasped in awe at the ridiculous mansion that slowly appeared over the horizon. Sitting comfortably at the very top of the hill, looking like it was balanced there precariously, with a circular driveway swinging right across the front entrance, and half a incredibly expensive cars parked outside the twelve car garage. The placed seemed to glitter with gold and diamonds even from the outside, the entire world around the house looking to dim in contrast with the manor’s splendor.
The cars came to a stop outside the front door, and Franklin nearly jumped out. “All right, niggas. We finally here. Now just remember what you niggas said to me earlier; if I wasn’t lying, you all owe me a hundred.”
The men chuckled as they piled out, each hulking black stud seemingly bigger and more muscular than the last, until out of the two SUVs nine of them were gathering around the front entrance. “Nigga, if this is what you say it is, den why so little? You could be hoein’ dese bitches out for like a G easy.”
Franklin started climbing the steps to the front door, and waited until he rang the bell, which sent a series of lovely bells echoing throughout every floor of the massive house. Then, Franklin responded, as he looked over his shoulder at his eight partners.
“Because, nigga. Dis rich bitch said she’d give me 10 grand for each one of you.”
Before any of the others could laugh, a small commotion could be heard on the other side of the giant, imposing door, before it slowly opened. From inside, all that would be seen were two SUVs parked over the shoulders of nine black men, eight of which had their jaws slowly dropping to the floor at what they saw, while Franklin stood in the middle of them all, smiling brightly.