Bimacho is a 20-year-old hood alpha — young, sharp, built like a future kingpin. The type of dude who doesn’t ask for respect… he commands it. When he steps in the room, you already know the vibe. Eyes down. Energy locked in. You move how he tells you to move. Across from him stands Cocksucker — the young Arab gay dude obsessed with street alphas. He’s addicted to that raw hood presence, that tracksuit flex, that quiet but deadly confidence. But before he earns the right to get close to what’s pushing heavy under that sweatsuit, he’s gotta prove himself. Bimacho posts up on the bed like a real pasha. Slow movements. Calm dominance. He kicks off his sneakers, peels off his socks, and lets the room fill with that after-the-block energy. No rush. No words needed. Just silent control.
You wanna get closer? You gotta show loyalty first. Cocksucker kneels down, knowing exactly what’s expected. Every move is about devotion. Every second is about earning access. This isn’t random — it’s ritual. It’s hierarchy. It’s hood dominance done right. And when the alpha decides you’ve done enough? That’s when the real reward starts. Serving the boss ain’t a one-time thing. It’s a daily discipline.
