Originally posted here: http://relationshipgoalsxxx.com/i-put-that-dick-in-yo-face/
I’m not sure exactly how I was exposed to the “music” of Miami-based rapper Stitches, but I was immediately hooked. His style was rough and throaty, with lyrical themes almost exclusively dealing with his day job—a cocaine dealer. His raps bragged of a personal friendship with famed Mexican drug kingpin El Chapo, paying off TSA agents to help him move his wares through the sky, and his desire to impregnate Miley Cyrus. When I heard that he’d be appearing in town, I absolutely had to go.
For those unfamiliar: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XtW6HW8jO_U
While willing to join me on this excursion of the absurd, my wife Laura added the stipulation that we could go, but we were absolutely not paying for tickets (a deal we’d made earlier in the year at an equally ridiculous Insane Clown Posse concert, where even we weren’t depraved enough to fool around at). The show’s promoter had owed me a favor, so I was able to score a couple of spots on the guest list, and off we went.
Author’s Note: For some reason at this point in my life, I was neither drinking or doing any sorts of drugs. I’m not entirely sure why that’s relevant, but I’ve admitted to attending both a Stitches and ICP concert while sober. Maybe drinking is a good idea sometimes.
Arriving at the venue, a church turned concert hall that we’d both attended dozens of times over the years, we were somewhat surprised by how many people shared our curiosity. Stitches seemed to be meme-ing his way into a music career.
We scoped out a good spot on the floor, as the final support act—a duo wearing latex Halloween masks rapping poorly about their affinity for chainsaws and large breasts—announced that they mercifully had only a few songs remaining before Stitches took the stage. While the music was atrocious, it did give Laura an opportunity to grind her ass on my cock, which was rapidly growing hard against my jeans. As the group finished their final song, I saw an opportunity.
I took my wife by the hand and led her up the stairs to the club’s balcony, which was sparsely populated with annoyed parents waiting for their teenagers who were downstairs. The balcony stretched the full way around the club, with the stretch above the stage curtained off—as it provided no lines of sight to the artist. Laura and I easily slipped behind the curtains, as club security had bigger problems downstairs.
The crowd had just been notified that Stitches hadn’t arrived at the venue yet and would be there in another 20 minutes, and they weren’t taking it well. Reactions ranged from concertgoers lighting up blunts to throwing bottles full of urine at the stage. I’m told that someone shit in the middle of the floor.
Meanwhile upstairs, Laura and I had found a private spot in the cordoned off portion of the balcony and my head was up her skirt, hungrily licking her pussy. As the crowd grew even more restless below us, I worked two fingers inside my wife and increased the tempo of my tongue on her clit.
I absolutely adore going down on my wife for days, but the show was due to start at any time—this had to be quick. I curled my fingers inside of her and soon she began to tense up and came on my face, moaning loudly… which was extraordinarily sexy considering the near-public setting.
By this point the concert was of secondary concern. Laura, ever the resourceful one, had found a table nearby, and had bent over it, her skirt falling just below her ass. She looked back at me and said, “come fuck me.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. I hiked my wife’s skirt over her large ass and worked my cock into her from behind. I started pumping into her slowly at first, though wouldn’t last long.
The crowd below us had begun chanting for Stitches; The rapper had apparently just arrived. Knowing I wouldn’t last long and wanting to catch most of the show, I began pumping my wife furiously.
Laura kept telling me, “right there, right there” as I fucked her. She was close, and I was getting closer. The crowd below us began cheering… Stitches’ crew, the TMI Gang took the stage as the sounds of police sirens blared over the speakers. I slowly slid my index finger into my wife’s ass as I fucked her, which pushed her over the edge. She began to cum again, which sent me over the edge.
I shot rope after rope of cum deep inside my wife before collapsing on top of her, spent. We laid there for a moment in a post-sex fog. The police sirens being pumped over the PA had grown louder and louder before stopping. From beneath us we hear the familiar sound of Stitches:
“FUCK A JOB”
We looked at each other and absolutely lost our shit laughing. I grew up on the sage wisdom of hip hop artists like Public Enemy, NWA, and Tribe and it led me to fucking on a table at a Stitches concert.
We composed ourselves and walked downstairs to the floor to watch the show, which amounted to a coke-bloated 19 year old, half-yelling-half-lip synching over some low quality YouTube beats.
Laura and I left after about half a dozen songs when Stitches invited any ladies onstage for a wet t-shirt contest and one of the women was a friend’s 16-year-old sister. Noped right the fuck out of there.
Fuck a job, indeed.
Follow up: To commemorate this event, we ended up naming a cat we adopted Julio, after a the Stitches fictitious mentor in the cocaine trade.
He’s the black & white guy on the left: http://relationshipgoalsxxx.com/julio/
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/6fy01q/i_put_that_dick_in_yo_face_or_fucking_my_wife_at
That was hilarious