The big slapper pulls him in. The strength of his waist doing most of the job, while his penis doesn’t seem the least deranged by the tension the red cloth creates around it. Two dick slaps to each side, as the tension of the cloth is being released once the dignified man starts flying towards the big slapper. The dignified man doesn’t let himself be surprised, and manages to clap his cheeks three times. As he goes face forward to the big slapper’s belly, he spreads his arms and straightens his legs, leaning his head backwards and clenching his cheeks. Once they make contact, the big slapper is the one who finds himself touching the floor with his back. The dignified man manages two more cheek claps, standing proudly over him.
The sound of the penis is nowhere to be heard, as the score is drawn on the asses of those leading, showing a 5-4 in favour of the dignified man. “Oh my, please don’t tell me this is all you, repulsive, genitalia clappers have to offer, oh ho,” the dignified man says, feeling his raw cheeks at the back. He smiles over the collapsed mass of meat and penis on the floor. The dignified man doesn’t clap his cheeks. He bends over to show some degree of class for the fallen enemy.
The big slapper seems to struggle getting up, the dignified man puts his ass to offer as a way to help him. The big slapper clasps hard at his cheeks, yet they remain firm in place. “I wonder what he does to maintain those cheeks,” I say under my breath.
“I hear they train by holding weights between their cheeks,” a guy dressed in street clothes responds to my right. I wonder how he heard me amidst the loud noises. He has a certain look about him, indicating great power and if I look at him more carefully, he seems better dressed in some portions than his pals. “I hope Francesco’s scoundrels didn’t skip on training,” he looks at me, probably expecting me to tell of my routine.
“Definitely not, I do-” erm, what sounds good in this context. “I do pushups, fifty of them each morning.”. His eyes widen, and he starts scratching his shaved chin. “I, uh, also do side steps, three hundred,” what is wrong with me? Those sounds like average exercises at best, and definitely not something they would do for dick slapping.
“Impressive, Francesco must have really high expectations of you,” he looks with a sense of pride towards me. He gets down and-jesus holy christ. “I can do ten at best, you should show me how you do it, maybe there’s something more to it,” he’s doing dick pushups. I’m not sure what I’m seeing, but that looks wrong from all the angles. The way it bends forward, then coming back as the veins bulge with pressure.
“A-anyway, let’s watch what happens next,” the big slapper gets up, and so does the guy to my right, pushing hard with his penis against the ground and getting up with seemingly no issue. The dignified man bends over once more as he stands in front of the big slapper, extending his right hand outwards, while putting his left one on his chest.
“You may retreat while having the least amount of dignity, large gentleman,” the dignified man says to the big slapper. “I’ll throw just one more clap of the cheek to en-” *SMACK* the big slapper slaps the dignified man with his dick! His face is coloured an odd shape of red, as the big slapper moves his hips and slaps his dick from side to side two times. The dignified man is thrown back by the force. His cheeks clapping just as the red cloth strangles his waist and forces the penis of the big slapper to extend to some degree.
“I ain’t taking no defeat,” he spits to his left, unsightly and unnecessary, “now come and play little man. We’re ending this mano a mano.”. The fight continues with the score even. I break out of the trance looking at this, finally starting to get a better grasp at how I’m supposed to bait Nataelo.
They like competition, and that doesn’t seem to have sprawled out of these people’s own volition. Seems more likely that Nataelo, or at least some of the gang leaders started this. Thus it carried on and became something larger. Boss would’ve told me if I could simply tell Nataelo that he challenges him, if Nataelo were to bite into that. So either it’s hard to bring Nataelo outside his comfort zone, or there is something more between the two that Nataelo would rather not confront boss about. Whichever it is, it will impede me from directly baiting him into it. The other issue is in regards to his lack of ca-”Seven to nine!” the guy in the middle announces, the big slapper taking the lead. Anyway, he doesn’t care about the other gang leaders, much less for the foot soldiers I figure. Boss also probably wants him out of here due to the sheer amount of acolytes. The last thing I can figure, is taking him on a crosswalk, and force him to come to boss, or else. Something along- “The booty clappers win!”.
The victory for the booty clappers is welcomed on one side, for the dignified man, with money thrown around. While the big slapper is welcomed by slow, sad dick slap. His eyes are watery, not from the defeat, but something I didn’t notice while thinking. “Next up, we have a game of endurance!” here comes another. “Can we spice things up a bit though? How about it, Amarinio?” I suppose I can watch a bit more. Maybe something will come up, I’ll just keep the lube in my hand. Don’t want it to slip out of my pocket.
“That’s what I love to see!” a-a kid shows up?! Not only that, but what does he carry in those jeans? No, now that I look better, he’s an adult, he’s just really small. It was his large hat, a matte black hiding his face, a goatee on it and a large cigar protruding from underneath. His shoes are also too large, black and shiny, while his brown leather jacket combined with the white, probably silk shirt make him seem like the small gangster that he is. “And who challenges Amarinio?” so that’s the last gang leader I had to know about. From the booty clappers group, someone who doesn’t seem to belong there. I haven’t spent a whole lot of time amongst these fiends, but there is a certain air about them that gives away what kind of people they are. And the woman that steps up, certainly doesn’t look part of the whole assembly. Her cheek to body ratio also doesn’t match the body type these fine specimens have developed, in regards to clapping cheeks. She’s slim and fit, her diet seems to be mainly vegetables, while her clothes look like they can fall apart if she stands in the sun for too long, and stepping towards Amarinio, you can see her bare feet. There is gum and some dirt, probably from walking on foot all the way here.
“Tsk” she clicks her tongue for no reason, or maybe for being disappointed in the man before her. “I wanted the other one, who tsk makes fun of our ecosystem. Oh, my, gosh,” her tone seems bothered to exist in her body, her gestures telling of the many managers she confronted in her life.
“Lisena, what are you doing here?” Amarinio’s voice is deep and coarse, the cigars having their effect on his voice. “I thought I told you not to ever come near me!” his high pitched voice resounds all around. Making him seem more in the baby phase his body seems to be stuck at.
“Can you, like, get over it. I’m so over it, are you not over it?” she’s definitely not over it.
“Tell me that after you stop sending me those mails,” his manly voice returns.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“But the planeet,” her answer makes Amarinio stomp his little feet on the ground. “Okyy, let’s get over it, here and now. How ‘but it?” her words are annoying to listen to, and the tone only amplifies it. Amarinio stops his stomp and throws the cigar on the ground, smoked almost to the very end.
“Do you really want to end it here?” his voice is grave, sounding almost as if he’s not over it either. “Is this planet worth more to you bee-daisy?!” the high screech he makes only puts him higher up the cuck ladder. “Fine!!” damn it, my ears are almost bleeding. “We end it here,” and back to its depth.
“Very well! Although the tongue flippers weren’t supposed to be here, we can make an exception, isn’t that right?”. So these are the tongue flippers, and that’s either their leader or one of the elites. The whole places makes sounds of approval, either from dick slaps or butt smacks, now some other sounds joining in. “The purpose of the game is to use what you’re best at, in order to inflict as much damage on the other as possible!” that’s what he meant by endurance, quite sinister. “Five seconds each, and if the one manages to convert the other, that’s an obvious instant victory,” I wonder if that’s possible amongst these experienced ones. I would assume that can’t be the case, but then again, the mention of it suggests there could be the case of it happening. I also have to wonder how comes the dick slappers have the most people and leaders. If these leaders have previously been bosses of their own gangs, then how strong must Nataelo be to have gathered them? If all of them are as strong as Francesco-wait. Why was Francesco able to fight on the crosswalk?! Shit, what’s wrong with me? It all escaped my mind for no reason, there should only be so many able to fight on the crosswalk. I suppose, never asked Lady Guardian. Still, did I get too immersed into this, forgetting what’s normal? Whatever, the larger issue is Nataelo. If he beat Francesco into submission, then he must be stronger. And while I managed to defeat him, I have a feeling things might’ve been different if Francesco knew of my powers. He also mentioned I’m really valuable to Nataelo, so he might value those with abilities on the crosswalk. But why?
“Begin!” the game starts, can’t think while seeing this is going. Amarinio begins. It’s subtle and almost unheard, but his dick slapping is happening inside his pants. That’s the same skill as boss, except he seems to not wear underwear, as there is more movement in there. Which makes me wonder again, what’s that inside his pants, it moves with-don’t tell me.
“With a length of sixty nine centimetres and a girth of thirty, Amarinio continues to show why he’s the leading force in the penile department!” that’s more than his height! I think. The crowd on this side grows loud as Lisena is entranced by the sound, snapping out of it at the last second. “Oh ho, Lisena looking a bit tight in here. Can we get some noise for her? Let’s not forget her ‘technique’,” I wonder what that is.
5 seconds later
Forget it, I don’t need to know more. “Amarinio trembles!” her tongue, the way she moves it around her mouth, the length and thickness of it are just obscene. “How will Amarinio resp-oh my! He finally reveals it!” and now this shit. His penis stretches in front of him and hits the ground, his body seems to have been trained to comfort the weight. *Swoosh* the movement of his hips to slap his dick, makes his dick almost hit a few booty clappers bystanders. They don’t like it, but can’t do anything to him, that ‘thing’ defies human understanding and basic anatomy. *Swoosh* he slaps his dick around his small body, making a double slap. It’s an effective way to do it, even though it carries the risk of getting ‘it’ injured.
Lisena falls to her knees on the count of three, her eyes fixated on the magnificence of the ‘thing’ as it’s being swung above her head. “How do you like it babe? Wanna come back, kick it easy for a little while?”. His proposition sounds convincing, if it means stopping ‘that’. She thinks in the last two seconds he has to spare. The announcer guy approaches her, checking if she’s out or not.
“LoL, you really think this is enough?” she gets back up, even straightens her back?! This is about to get serious. “Lemme show you what dis is all about, Amario” oh no. Here it comes again *SFLURP* her tongue. She flips it around her mouth, making these orgasmic noises. Amarinio falls to his little knees, a small thud with it, while his penis seems to contract to the sound. Not in a sexual way, but in a sort of manner that helps Amarinio stay out of her charms. “There is no point to this, come to me baby man,” she extends her arms as she makes those sounds, Amarinio extending his small hand. But, because his hand is too short, Lisena has to bend closer to him, which means the time ran off! “Tsk”.
“You were close, but” the monster awakens, from the ground it goes up once more and over her head, “not close enough!”. The power of his swing causes those in front and behind to brace for it, as the wind pressure gets higher. With impeccable form and speed, the slapping resonates three times on each side, the six beats leaving Lisena on the ground.
“Incredible!! Amarinio wins!” the dick slapping is getting wild all around me. People start hugging each other naked, gross. Amarinio is dangerous, he could’ve ended this bout in the first round. I can tell since the slapping became more accurate and clean once he went with, probably, all his force into it. That being said, I can also see what makes him week, not going in with all he has. Well, he has a lot, but that doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be used.
Amarinio grabs Lisena with his small hand, trying to get her up on his shoulder. While his body can sustain a second, perhaps, larger one, it certainly can’t support a third. Some of his guys come and help him carry her, no one seems to stop her. “Why is he carrying her off?” I wonder aloud.
“The winner claims the prize,” so that’s how it goes. The same guy as before answers me, and-shit, he looks at me suspicious. “Now say, what’s your name and who got you here? I can’t recall seeing you using your juan?”. I’m guessing he means my penis.
“I-I can’t right now, it’s personal,” I don’t know what to say. He doesn't like my response it seems, and he app-*grab* “Aghh!” my balls!
“Seems to be working fine, trembles a little at my touch, but filled with vigour,” this is getting into sexual harassment territory. I figure they don’t care, still, I feel violated. “So can you give me something more than ‘it’s personal’?”. My whole body is shaking, and there seem to be more people watching us now, him grabbing my balls and me trembling in fear. I try to pull away *tighten* ouch, shit. But he doesn’t let go. “C’mon pretty boy, tell us what’s the deal here, we all want to know,” he’s using the attention to impose himself further on me, how cruel. The grip grows tighter, it reminds me of lady Cecillia. God dammit, I don’t like it but I’ll have to admit to something. Maybe me confessing to beating Francesco will make them back away. *Tighten* then again, there’s the sheer numbers and herd mentality.
“Fine! Fine… I will confe-” before I had time to finish, they all change their attention from me towards the front. *SKAPSHT* like the sound of a whip, aggressive yet elegant, powerful yet gentle, the sound of a dick slapping against raw skin. There, where my eyes go along with everyone else’s, is the man I’m after, Nataelo. Dressed opposite to how I saw him before, he wears an expensive looking black suit. He has no hat, leaving his light brown hair come down in straight waves down his neck, almost to his shoulder. There is a style to it, licked by expensive product, no hair is falling on his face. While looking almost natural, only a slight shine reveals the use of something I probably have no idea of. His shoes have a golden outline at the bottom, then black material, similar to his suit. What surprised me was the fact that he wears his pants, keeping in mind the slap he produced, and judging by the little movement, he did that while wearing underwear. No wonder boss didn’t want me to fight him, he’s a true monster. *Clap, clap, clap* he goes to the middle, clapping his large hands adorned by rings with dark jewels. The presenter makes way, losing himself in the crowd of booty clappers and tongue flippers.
“I thank everyone for showing tonight,” his voice is deep and strong, but a sense of weariness comes from it, probably from being a boss. “Both friend and enemy, tonight we meet to establish, let’s say, new ways.”. Both sides look a bit confused by his words, only Donatello and Amarinio seem to know what’s all about. “Before that though, I would like to acknowledge the absence of my two most needed men tonight, Francesco and Heprane,” he noticed, of course, he wouldn’t be able to stand there if he wasn’t that kind of boss. “Thus,” he points at the booty clappers, “we can’t proceed to absolutely terminate this plague that contaminates our belief,” Nataelo’s words evoke a sense of tension from the booty clappers, while this side seems to prepare for a word of command. Nataelo smirks, turning his head and looking for the reactions.
“Let’s not be hasty,” a calm, soothing voice comes from within this crowd, again. *BOOM* wha-the hell just happened?! My head feels dizzy, and I see some of the men dropping to the ground, while others cover their ears. My balls are free at least, as the man to my right also can’t take the sound. “We have yet to decide who’s the better of us, we can leave the killing afterwards,” a man about Nataelo’s height, perhaps shorter, but definitely more muscular shows up. He’s dressed in a white suit, similar in fashion to that of Nataelo, but the buttons are open at the top, revealing a hairy chest and a gold necklace with the letters ‘TTUB’ made of diamonds coming from the sides to the middle. Hmm. His shoes also differ, as they’re a leather brown. Some of Francesco’s men try to attack him, undressing of their expensive looking pants, but it’s only met with another *BOOM* as the man claps his cheeks through the pants, all those attacking falling numb to the ground. “Wouldn’t you agree?” the man steps up to Nataelo, meeting his gaze, the leader of the booty clappers I figure.