Date: Wed, 10 Feb 2010 20:49:28 -0500 From: Evan Williams <classic14rider@gmail.com> Subject: Hip Hop Hoes Part 3 This story is a work of erotic fiction. It is intended for entertainment purposes only. It may contain racial slurs and sexual acts which some readers may find offensive. This story is not intended to be read by minors or by anyone who might be unduly influenced by its contents, or where community standards prohibit this type of literature. If any of these prohibitions apply to you, please find something else to read for your entertainment. ***************** Thomas of Atlanta put an ad in the newspaper Indianapolis to discover new talent for the hip hop videos he was famous for producing and directing. The talented young white man had a lot of power; all the black boys knew it. The ad said that he was looking for young men to appear in his videos, but everyone in the entertainment industry knew that this could lead to an opportunity for budding young rappers to appear on concert tours and to eventually audition to be featured in their own shows. Thomas loved to see what hopeful young men, with dreams of stardom in their minds, were willing to do for a shot at living their dreams. Thomas heard the muffled sounds of a crowd of black youth outside of the door of the audition room. He looked over his shoulder at his assistant, "call in the first ten boys for the audition." The large doors swung open and ten teenage black boys swaggered into the room. The studio's assistants blocked off the other boys who were eager for a chance to audition. They shut the doors and Thomas eyed the first ten boys up and down. They were all shades of black and brown. "Mmmm, nice." Thomas stood in front of the boys with his hands on his hips, thoroughly in control of the situation. "Okay boys, if you want to be famous and make a lot of money then you're going to have to strip down to your boxer shorts and line up with your hands behind your backs so I can see if you have the physiques I'm looking for." The black boys looked at each other and then at Thomas. They grumbled and snarled to each other that Thomas was obviously a "Queer mutherfucka," but they dutifully stripped down to their boxer shorts so the white man could inspect their nearly naked black bodies. Thomas grew impatient with grudging movement of the boys as they pulled off their clothes, "Strip down to your boxers now -- don't give me any of your lip -- unless, of course, you've got those nigga lips wrapped around my cock." Thomas shot the boys an intimidating glance and added, "I just looooove feeling nigga lips wrapped around my cock." They snarled but they got the message. Grumbling oaths of their cherished pride and manhood the black boys stripped down to their boxer shorts. Their thick, pendulous cocks swung beneath their cotton shorts. Thomas' eyes grew wide as the outline of big, long nigger cocks became plainly visible. He tried to maintain his facade of aloofness but he couldn't prevent himself from gasping, "Oh my." The boys lined up in front of Thomas, hands behind their backs, military style. Thomas got close enough to smell each one of the boys' unique scent. He inspected the "talent," slowly walking up and down the row of nearly naked colored boys. "The performers in this video," Thomas said, "have to be maaaaanly." He paused in front of one particularly handsome young smooth-faced Mandingo warrior. "Do you know how to be maaaaaaanly?" The boy looked simultaneously annoyed, embarrassed and confused. Thomas leaned close to the boy and pretended he was answering an unspoken question, "What? You don't know what I mean when I say `maaaaaanly'?" The boy shrugged his shoulders as if he were afraid to say anything that might offend the powerful the music director. "When I say `maaaaaanly,'" Thomas continued, "I mean someone who glares into the camera when it's in his face." The boy nodded, indicating that he was following what Thomas was saying. "And," Thomas continued, suddenly grabbing the boy's crotch, "who reaches down and holds a big handful of nigga cock for his audience." The boy jumped at the touch of the director's hand on his nigga sex meat. Thomas didn't let go; he continued to feel the boy up. He fondled the boy's cock through his cotton boxer shorts, staring the boy dead in the face. The boy shifted with nervous embarrassment as his thick nigga cock got stiffer and stiffer in the director's hand. Thomas grinned with contempt. When he let go of the boy's cock it was fully erect. All the other Negro boys attempted to stifle their laugher at their homeboy's discomfort. "That," Thomas continued, walking away from the embarrassed boy, "is what I am looking for in future performers for my hip hop videos. Do you boys think you have what it takes?" The boys all nodded in agreement; they were sure they had what it takes to become famous hip hop stars. But Thomas wasn't through laying out his criteria. "It's important for my performers to have big nigga cocks because that is what sells, but do you know what else sells?" The boys looked at each other as if they were stumped by the director's question. "I'll tell you what sells." Thomas turned to a tall, light-skinned boy. "Bend over. Grab your ankles." The nigga did as he was told. Thomas yanked down the back of the boy's boxer shorts, exposing his naked high-yellow ass. Thomas wrapped his arms around the boy's hips as if he were introducing the boy's buttocks to the whole world. "Big nigga ass," he said proudly, slowly turning the boy's ass like a spot light sweeping across a stage. "Audiences love to see big, bulbous nigga ass shaking on their TV screens." He let go of the boy's butt cheeks and walked away, leaving the boy bent over, not quite sure what to do, still helplessly exposed to the rest of the guys in the room. "If you don't have a big nigga booty to shake you can forget about ever being a star." Thomas looked at the row of lean, smooth, shiny brown and black chests and abs. He sighed. "My boys need to be willing to show their bodies when they perform in my videos." He reached out and ran his hand over a chocolate brown boy's smooth body. The boy quivered. "People like to see lanky black boys, who are in good athletic shape," Thomas said, as he moved his hand down to the boy's thighs and felt between his legs. "People like watching black boys with attitude," he cupped the boy's testicles in his palm and fondled them. "People like black boys who are obviously filled with testosterone." Thomas gave the boy a swift slap on his ass and walked away from him. "So if you play your cards right you might get a chance to appear in my next video." Thomas disappeared into the director's office, leaving the row of hopeful young niggas horny, embarrassed and unsure of whether or not they had sufficiently impressed the eccentric white director, who was the gateway to their dreams. Thomas plopped down on a black leather couch in his office and whipped out his cock, frantically stroking it with the images of nearly naked young black boys still fresh in his memory. He could still remember the feel of their thick nigga fuck meat in his hands and the smell of their groins and ass in his nostrils. He stroked violently, imagining several of the boys on top of him in an orgy, their firm, sweaty dark bodies covering him as their hard nigga cocks pushed between his thighs, in his ass and in his mouth. He imagined licking their hairy nigga balls. He stroked harder as he dreamt of grabbing one of the boy's bubble butt as the boy pumped his black cock inside Thomas' ass. "Oh yeah, fuck me nigger -- fuck me. Fuck me with that big black monster cock," Thomas gasped out loud, egging on his dream. The black boy Thomas' daydream slammed wildly into his ass and filled him with a hot thick load of potent nigga jungle cum. Thomas shot a stream of jism all over his masturbating hand and his black leather couch. "If those boys want a crack at stardom," he muttered to himself as he cleaned off his couch, "they better be able to perform at least as good in real life as they do in my dreams." Thomas returned to the audition room. The nearly naked black boys were still standing there. Thomas wanted a new batch of nigga boys to inspect. "Send in the next ten boys," he called out. His assistants ushered the next group of ambitious black boys into the room to try to win Thomas' approval.