Birthday Rapping

"You ready, baby?"

I looked myself over in the mirror and was happy with what I saw.

For my birthday, my husband, Davonte, had gotten us tickets for a concert featuring an up and coming rap artist who simply went by the name Isaac. I had heard two songs of his that I really liked before deciding to download the rest of his debut album. It wasn't until after making the purchase that I did a search for more information about him and finally saw photos of the young, pale, red haired man. The discovery annoyed me. While I had nothing against white people, I did take issue with the number of white boys that essentially dressed themselves up in black face in order to become hip-hop and rap artists. They almost always ended up coming from privileged backgrounds with no firsthand knowledge of the ghetto lifestyle they spoke about and tried to relate to. I was even more annoyed with myself because I hadn't done my research ahead of time to prevent giving money to him. However, the more I read about Isaac and his background, I began to see that he actually had the credibility to back up his lyrics and had most likely had the experiences he rapped about. If any of these fake white rappers could claim to be a white brother, Isaac could.

As I listened through the album, I looked through various pictures of him on his website. I actually found him to be somewhat attractive. Despite being twenty-three he looked to be still in high school with his round face, pug nose and green eyes. Even the thin strip of red hair that traced his jaw line and framed his mouth did little to make him appear his age. In all of his photos, his kinky red hair grew out of his head in a large afro that would have made any black person from the seventies jealous. Completing his look were the customary oversized clothes, loosely laced hiking boots or sneakers, and gold around his neck and wrists. He even had coke nails at the ends of his pinkies that were easily an inch long. In one of the shots, there was what appeared to be a bump in one waiting to be snorted. By the time I finished my first listen through the album, I had changed my mind about Isaac and was well on my way to becoming a serious fan. And a few months later when it was announced that he was coming to town on tour, my husband purchased a pair of tickets for us.

I gave a final glance in the mirror and nodded at way the loose, low-cut blouse and short, booty hugging shorts looked on me. Despite being thirty-one, I looked like I was a decade younger. My body was still fit and shapely though I still carried some of the weight that I had gained after having our daughter who was now two. The extra pounds filled out my face, turned my tits into large, firm drops of chocolate, and gave me a phat ass that my girlfriends were jealous of. I had a decent career as an up and coming corporate lawyer but still liked to indulge my ghetto roots whenever I had the increasingly rare opportunity to go out like this. "I am. I'm so excited."

After accepting my hug and kiss of gratitude, Davonte looked me over then said, "Damn, girl. Don't make me get arrested for having to kick some nigga's ass for stepping up on you tonight."

"You know there ain't no other nigga that I'm gonna be looking at tonight or ever." Davonte wasn't the jealous type but like any proud black man, he wasn't going to let another man hit on me without making himself known.

"Good. And when we get home, maybe I'll give you a little something else for your birthday." He finished the statement by running a hand along the front of my shorts and pressing against my covered pussy.

I smiled seductively and said, "You so nasty."

After dropping our daughter off with Davonte's mother, we drove into the city to the club where Isaac was going to be performing. It was an inner city place we'd been to before. In addition to the dance floors, they had a separate, large room with a stage where they hosted up and coming artists like Isaac who couldn't necessarily fill a regular concert venue and often weren't given a chance at the suburban locations. Once we arrived, we got some drinks then took up a position near the stage. We were quickly thankful we had gotten there early to get a good spot as the club begin to fill for the performance.

When the concert started, there was no warmup act. Isaac came out onto the stage accompanied by a small band and two dancers. After a brief line of gratitude to the audience for coming, he began his first song.

I was surprised by Isaac's appearance in person. I had read he was six feet four inches tall but seeing his height on stage flanked by the dancers and musicians who were noticeably shorter than him made him appear taller with an almost lanky body. Instead of the afro he sported in all of the promo shots I had seen, his hair was done in thick cornrows with the ends of the braids hanging below his shoulders. I couldn't remember seeing his freckles before, but even in the dim light of the club, I could see that his exposed skin was covered with a sparse coating of the golden dots. And across the distance that separated us, I could see that his pimp nails were easily twice as long than in the photos I had seen. As he rapped his first song then sang a second, I was impressed by his ability to perform live which was something many so-called artists nowadays lack.

During the next song, Isaac left the stage and made his way through the front of the crowd as he sang another of his hip-hop tunes.

Like a teenager, I—as well as a number of other women—screamed and sang along as he came closer. He stopped to dance with some of the women along the way and I was surprised when he eyed me then selected me as one of his partners. Despite knowing Davonte would not be pleased with me dancing with someone else, when Isaac pulled me close with the hand not holding his microphone and humped against me, I went with it, going so far as to grab his ass back and writhing against him. Pressed against him, I found that my eyes only came up to his shoulders. I could feel the sweat already appearing on his body from his performance and could smell his musky, slightly funky body odor beginning to grow strong over the spicy smell of his cologne and deodorant. A slight smile took up residence on his face as he continued spouting words and I was surprised that he stayed with me until the end of the song.

I figured once he finished, he would leave me and make his way back to the stage. Instead, Isaac remained with me as he started his next up-tempo song and continued to dance with me. About halfway through, he pulled away from me slightly and draped an arm over my shoulders then led me up to the stage. Once there, he pulled me close again and I willingly let his leg move between mine to rub my covered crotch with his lean thigh.

As we danced together on stage, I began to feel his dick hardening against me. It wasn't exactly surprising considering the raunchy gyrating we were doing but it did make me give him a look that he responded to with a wink as he continued to spit out fast lyrics. When his length continued to extend against me, I did find myself becoming distracted by how large he was. Davonte did his part to support and further the stereotype of black men and dick sizes—and did it well—but it seemed that Isaac was putting him to shame. Amazingly when the song ended, I could tell that he still wasn't yet completely hard despite the amount of growth that he'd already had.

Still not letting me go, Isaac held onto me as the band started a slow song. He rolled his hips against me and led me through some slow, sensual moves. They were moves that I had only ever felt and seen accomplished successfully from black men and no one other than my husband had done with me in years. When he began singing, I looked up into his eyes and it felt like his words were only for me. There might have been a flirtatious connection between us before but now he was openly seducing me there on stage in front of the audience.

And it was working.

Not only did I move with him, I surrendered myself to him. With only his words and hips, he controlled me and had me feeling things that no man other than my husband had made me feel for more than six years. While taking a breath to sing, I heard him let out a deep moan and realized that one of my hands had moved between us and was rubbing his hard length.

"Not yet, baby," he said into the microphone, ignoring the lines he was supposed to be singing while he used his other hand to move my hand off him.

Feeling frisky and getting into the spirit of the sexy song, I reached out and began to open the buttons on his shirt. Isaac laughed then resumed his song without stopping me. Once finished, I pulled the sides open and he helped me remove the shirt to expose his lean torso that was covered by a ribbed tank top. The white fabric was translucent from his sweat and allowed me to see the definition of his pecs and ripples of his abs. His body was tight but not in a way that spoke of athleticism or regular workouts. Because of the slight softness on his arms, it appeared to be more from a combination of genetics and youth. With the outer shirt out of the way, it also revealed that his jeans were slung low around his ass displaying more than a little of his colorful boxer briefs. In the narrow space between his shorts and undershirt, there was a line of red running along the middle of his abs connecting the two garments. Moving close to him again, I ran my hands over his body for a moment before teasingly grabbing the bottom of his t-shirt. I was slightly surprised when he winked and gave me a nod, giving me permission to remove it. Figuring I had gone that far, I immediately pulled it off and heard the crowd go wild.

With his torso exposed, it glistened with sweat in the stage lights. Aside from the trail of hair that started just above his navel and led into his shorts, there was only a light dusting of copper colored hair on his chest. Honestly, I think I saw it only because I was so close to him. I gasped when he used his free hand to pull me close again to resume our slow dance. My head rested briefly on his sweaty chest before I began to pepper it with light kisses. Though I knew I shouldn't be doing it, I enjoyed the his salty taste, and taking things even further, I took a moment to lick and nibble at each of his nipples.

"Damn, girl," he said into the mic, interrupting his song again. "Don't get us into trouble."

Despite his words, I winked at him and returned to suck on each of his small, pointed nubs while he sang and moved his hips against me.

When the song ended, it led into another slow one. While the intro played, he turned me around and pushed on my back. Up until this point everything he did had only been suggestive. It might have crossed the line of decency but it still was only suggestive. I had been the one pushing the boundary and encouraging him to go further. Now, however, it was his turn to move the line. Bent over in front of him, facing the side of the stage and putting our profiles to the audience, he held onto my hips and began to thrust against me openly simulating sex and I went along with it. He ran his free hand slowly over my back soothing me as a lover would while he humped his covered cock against my ass. Just before he began singing, he even reached his hands beneath me and squeezed my tits and let out an appreciative curse that only I could hear.

I tossed my head back with my eyes closed and moaned at the contact, but no one except Isaac could hear it. When I opened my eyes, I shook my head to clear it of the haze of arousal that was taking over and caught sight of my husband staring at me with an unreadable expression from his place in the audience. He didn't appear pleased but neither was he angry. I couldn't tell what he was thinking but, I hate to admit, I also didn't care. I was having fun in a way that I hadn't in years. Unlike when I was younger, nothing was going to come of me messing around with Isaac on stage in front of the crowd. Before Davonte, I might have ended up going home with a guy like Isaac, but I was married now with a kid and a career and couldn't risk the damage to my reputation. Admittedly, I could accept that I was taking things further than a married woman should, going further than I knew Davonte would like, but I was enjoying myself. To that end, I pressed back against Isaac and let out another moan when he slapped my ass.

Isaac pulled away from me briefly and I heard a roar run through the crowd before he pressed back against me. I turned my head to see what he had done and stopped breathing. His jeans were now around his ankles as he continued to grind against me. Not only that, but the end of his hard cock was sticking out the leg of his shorts—the leg that was closest to the audience. It was a large, red bullet and I could see there was a bead of moisture already shining in the piss slit. For all the fun that I'd been having, things were suddenly getting more real than I had expected but at the same time I didn't want to stop even after considering all the reasons I should. I was suddenly filled with an acute arousal that came from the sight of his cock and the knowledge that a man other than my husband was interested in me. Yet, I still didn't think things would go too far. If anything, I would maybe get a request to join him backstage or in his hotel room after the show that I could decline. I pressed back and rolled my ass against him until I felt the heat of his crown and the stickiness of his precum against my thigh just below the edge of my shorts.

"Fuck, yeah, girl," he said interrupting his singing. "Work that ass."

I moved my ass up and down against his cock, rubbing it and feeling it twitch appreciatively. As Isaac tried to continue singing, his lyrics increasingly became peppered with curses and sighs of arousal. As more of his precum leaked onto my thigh, I began to surrender to my own arousal. I had never done anything like this before, never thought about it, but I was now turning into a bitch in heat. This white boy, someone I never would have looked at twice otherwise, had me hot and bothered far beyond anything my own husband had made me feel in ages. I knew I should have left the stage but near the end of the song I gave up any pretense of respectability and gave in to the heat of the moment. I turned around, dropped to my knees then pressed my face into Isaac's crotch. Opening my mouth wide, I gently chewed on the root of his cock and balls for a bit before slowly working my way down his shaft. When I got to his head, I took it into my mouth using only my lips and began to suck it.

"Oh, shit."

I heard the heavy plastic sound of the microphone hitting the ground a split second before it echoed through the speakers. Looking up, I saw Isaac reaching for his waistband. As I pulled my head away from him, he lowered his shorts freeing his cock. I watched it spring up quickly, bouncing up and down for a moment before coming to rest just below horizontal. Though I had already seen it peeking out of his shorts, seeing it completely exposed made my eyes go wide. It was not only longer than anything I had ever seen, but it was also thicker. Straight as an arrow, it was slightly wider in the middle than it was at the ends, though the ridge of the long, blunt crown was the thickest point by far. I saw it lengthen and swell a little more as more blood rushed into it now that it was freed from the confines of his shorts. Below it hung a narrow sack that drooped seemingly halfway down his thighs. Despite the impressive sight of his genitals, my eyes focused longer than necessary on his untrimmed bush. The copper hair was lush and every bit as dense as the photos of his afro. Internally, I laughed to myself that it in fact looked like an afro for his cock. From it emanated a musky, manly smell that was a mix of sweat, old piss and his body odor. While the smell of dirty dick was something I hated on my husband, here on stage, with Isaac sweaty from performing under the lights, it was the headiest aphrodisiac I had ever experienced.

Apparently, I had taken too long looking him over because he grabbed my head with both hands and pressed his wet tip against my lips. I immediately parted them and he fed his cock into my receptive mouth. As he set up a fairly quick pace fucking my head, I was vaguely aware of cheers and whistles coming from the crowd despite the fact that I was able to cope with less than half of his hard, thick cock. As he used my mouth, precum seeped continuously from him. It wasn't a heavy stream but each time I cleaned the tip with my tongue, more of the bitter substance quickly appeared. Over the band that now played an upbeat song, I heard him curse and mutter other fuck words while I pulled on and massaged his balls trying to keep my hands busy because he wouldn't let me touch his cock. Just when I thought he was close to the end, he pulled out and sank to his knees in front of me. With no request for permission, he opened my shorts then guided me onto my back so he could remove my bottoms and I let him. After spreading my legs open and holding them wide with his hands, he leaned down and ran his tongue over my moist slit. He wasn't eating me out but I could hear him moaning with appreciation as he tasted the wetness seeping out of me. Once finished with whatever it was he had accomplished, he rose up and guided his cock into me.

My back immediately arched and I let out a whimpering moan as he penetrated me. Davonte's cock was not narrow in the least but Isaac was prying me open in a way I had never felt before. I saw stars that had nothing to do with the glare of lights in my face as he slowly fucked his way deeper into me. He would push in further than was comfortable only to pull out half the amount he had inserted then repeat the process. There was no tenderness in the act, no acknowledgement of my discomfort. Because of the angle of the lights, his face was mostly in shadow but I still had the sense that he was staring down at me dispassionately. As he progressed further inside me, I could feel the head of his cock scraping my walls like a squeegee. Behind the flared ridge, my passage collapsed onto his shaft, squeezing it tight as my pussy ineffectually tried to push him out like I should have consciously been doing. After he succeed in burying himself, he paused just long enough to adjust his weight before beginning to fuck me with an intensity and lack of concern that could be generated only by a young man intent on a long denied nut.

While the band continued to play and the dancers sang their back up lines, Isaac pumped into me. He was confident and sure with his hips, rolling them periodically to drag his pelvis and forest of pubic hair against my swollen clit. Beneath him, I moaned and writhed like the bitch in heat I had become. My husband always gave it to me good, but this was beyond that. It wasn't just the feel of the huge, white cock inside me, there was also the fact that there were hundreds of people around us watching and cheering. One of them being my husband. I had never cheated on Davonte, and other than some harmless fun with girlfriends, I had never looked at another man since meeting him. Yet here I was laying on my back on a stage being fucked by a man who was not my husband contrary to everything that I had become, everything I thought and believed a wife should be. A white man, no less. I knew I should have stopped Isaac the moment he had approached me but that white devil had worked some voodoo on me and I had been powerless against him. I still could have pulled away from him and crawled off the stage but I was enjoying him inside me too much to do it. He had me on the edge, working my body and varying his speed and angle of attack to keep my orgasm close but not letting me have it.