The King of Rap

D-Train's ambition was to be a rapper. There was a competition that night, at a local club. And he'd persuaded Elizabeth, formerly so proper and demure, into being a dancer for him that night.

The club was dark, and stank of weed and cigarettes and booze. D-Train kept his hand on Elizabeth's ass, guiding her through the club, onto the stage. They were the next act.

Elizabeth tried to dance at least somewhat modestly, listening to D-Train's hard-to-follow lyrics. But at his constant urging, she started dancing more provocatively, until she was twerking on stage. D-Train lined up behind her, grinding his enormous black appendage into her, making her weak in the knees, as they simulated intercourse on stage. She could feel how hard he was in his boxers, his pants halfway down his legs now, as the crowd cheered her on lustily. She noticed D-Train's crew, watching her with equal hunger, and shivered as the rap ended and the crowd applauded, for her more than him.