John was the new leader of the Indians and was already seeing the benefits of that acquisition. New prostitution money was rolling in and his team was getting more and more powerful. He had taken on the Giant, which was the new nickname John had given him, as his right hand man and had even forgiven him for his transgressions against Dakota. He made him promise never to beat another prostitute again or he would meet the same fate as Chief Baseball Cock.
The Backstreet Thugs had learned of the change in power and Tyrone Biggums was planning a preemptive strike against John. Luckily for John his new Indian women hooking on the street forewarned him about this and he was well prepared. He had quite the surprise in store for Tyrone and his gang of black thugs.
It was midnight and Tyrone had put his plan into motion. His men approached the Indian stronghold where John had setup his new headquarters. They were armed with guns, knives, bats, swords and everything else they could get their hands on. The did a frontal assault and kicked the door in, ready to start shooting the place up. As the dust settled and the lights turned on, all they could see waiting for them was about 50 squaws all lying facedown on the ground on their hands and knees with their bare asses up in the air, glistening pussies exposed and already wet with anticipation. John had decided to fight them with a new type of warfare. Sexual warfare.
The black thugs could feel their cocks getting hard as the Indian whores all began to do the booty clap in unison, like a well-trained precision swimming team. Clap, clap, clap, clap. Their ample butt cheeks were slapping together and the room filled with the smell of wet pussy. As the booty clapping intensified the thugs dropped their weapons, and began taking off their pants, exposing their hard, black cocks. They all seemed to have 10 inch or bigger dicks. As John watched from the safety of his office security cameras, he thought to himself “I guess what they say about black men is true.”
The black gang, now so horny with lust, approached the native hookers ready to plunge their throbbing black dicks into their inviting, wet pussies. As the men began fucking the women, the moans of pleasure grew louder and louder. Black cock was entering red-skinned pussy and the room filled with the stench of sex and ass. Suddenly, there was a blood-curdling scream. One of the thugs fell over in agony, clutching his crotch. Blood spilled out onto the floor. The native American whores were booby-trapped. Traditional 19th century Indian metal wolf traps had been strategically placed into their pussies. One of the women stood up and pulled a severed penis out of her pussy. “Get ‘em, girls!” She shouted. Suddenly the room filled with the sound of metal clamping shut and the yells of anguish of the black thug gang.
The floor filled with pools of blood and severed penises lay everywhere. The entire army of the Backstreet Thugs bled out on the floor of the Indian stronghold. John’s plan had worked perfectly, with the help of the Giant and his handcrafted wolf traps.
Now there was only one more hooker territory for John to take over. The Yankees.
