Tawanda Mills jerked her delectably round, chocolate-brown ass from side to side as she worked her too-tight panties down her legs. The pair she was wearing was more than old enough to warrant throwing out, but she had selected them for today's session for that very reason. Bobby Perkins was already wriggling his nose, trying with all his might to catch a whiff of their perfume. Tawanda smiled slightly as she stepped out of the wad of soiled cotton, taking care to nudge the underwear out of Bobby's reach with one bare foot. With luck, she could sell him the panties for an extra twenty, above and beyond what he was paying for her other favors on this hot April day.

"So what'll it be today, baby?" she asked, lifting her arms high over her head, showing off her plump boobs and wide hips. She had taken care to begin her strip-tease in the middle of a dusty shaft of late afternoon sunlight shining down from the basement's upper window, so that her twenty-year-old body would be shown to its best advantage. The basement's chill air made her nipples stand straight up. She took care not to look directly at Bobby, but she could feel his eyes roaming all over her, from her corn-rowed black hair down to her pink-polished brown toes. "What you want, huh? You wanna suck on my pussy a little?" The thought of Bobby tonguing her crisply-furred black twat made her shudder; the boy was tall and reasonably muscular, but his bullet-shaped, prematurely balding head, thick features and overbite made him look like a retard. Truth was; Bobby "The Percolator" Perkins was far from the sharpest knife in the drawer; everyone at school said as much. But he was easily the most generous of the boys Tawanda had taken on since coming to Sharpley. He worked after class at his daddy's law firm in town-just a mailroom job, by all accounts, but apparently it paid well. Once Tawanda got him good and horny, old Bobby would hand out twenties like a goddam ATM machine.

And these days, Miss Tawanda Mills needed as many twenties as she could get her hands on.

"Yeah, uh..." Bobby smiled sickly at her. "I was thinking maybe we could have some real fun today..." Tawanda's eyes flicked discreetly over the front of his jeans; yep, the boy was packing a lead pipe in there. He'd probably caught an eyeful of the campus beauties sunbathing their butts and gotten his stupid ass horny. Normally Bobby liked to start out with one of his little fetishes, but he wasn't going to be satisfied with burying his nose in her twat today. No, today Mr. Perkins was going to want to fuck her. Tawanda would make sure he paid for the privilege, but the thought made her a little nauseous. Of course, it wasn't any worse than him eating her pussy or sucking her toes or any of the other freaky shit he usually liked to do. Still, fucking was a cut above the other stuff; she could lay back and turn her mind off while he licked on her feet, but fucking forced her to interact with him.

Her girl Sharelle, up in DC, had told her there were all kinds of tricks you could play so a guy would think he was fucking a girl's pussy when in reality he was just rubbing his meat between her legs. But Tawanda had never managed to get the trick of that; she would just have to hope Bobby had brought some thick damn condoms.

"Yeah, now that's what I'm talkin' 'bout, baby! But...you got something for me first? Some candy for Mama?" After a few bad experiences early on, Tawanda now always took care to get the money up front. Fortunately, Bobby was more than willing to please in that department; he pulled a wad of bills out of the back pocket of his jeans, handing it over without hesitation. Tawanda slipped the money inside the pocket of her discarded cut-offs; she didn't count it, but there had to be two hundred in there, easy. That was good; it brought the total in the Get-Tawanda-Out-of-Sharpley kitty up to about eight hundred. The sum should have been much higher; she had done a lot of whoring since she and the Bitch had arrived in town, but Tawanda was a girl who liked to party. So much of the money slipped through her fingers before it had a chance to properly accumulate.

No matter. She had given herself all summer before she told the Bitch to go fuck herself for real and hit New York. Yeah, you just keep thinking about that, baby. Don't worry about Mr. Neanderthal Perkins pokin' you with his white drumstick.

She stretched herself out on the old beanbag chair under the basement stairs. The chair was a relic of the Bitch's youth, preserved out of sentiment but deemed too tacky to grace the spotless, exquisitely tasteful décor upstairs.

Christ, I hate that bourgy cunt. It was fitting that she spill her juices and her client's jizz on the Bitch's precious chair. Of course, beyond any such considerations, the thing did make for some good fucking, no doubt about that; the crunchy stuff it was filled with worked nicely to absorb the drilling blows of a horny cock, and the vinyl cover was reasonably cool and pleasantly smooth. Tawanda smiled as the beanbag crunched under her slight weight.

Bobby undressed slowly, carefully setting aside each item of clothing as though he expected it would immediately be stolen. At the sight of his club-like dick bobbling at his middle, Tawanda felt a slight flush of something like excitement. She wasn't like one of those bitches who sold their pussy and hated it; hell, no. She loved getting fucked, even by a freak like The Percolator.

"The Percolator"-Christ. The girls in the blow-off Creative Writing class Tawanda was taking had told her that Bobby had bestowed the nickname on himself, apparently considering it a marvelously choice display of wit. If he had been a nerd-boy instead of just a clueless jock, Tawanda thought, Bobby would have been eaten alive. But the other thick boys at the university put up with him, not being exactly Rhodes Scholars themselves. Bobby never realized what a freak everyone else considered him.

Ignorance is bliss, Tawanda thought, smiling and spreading her legs as Bobby approached. Yes, she was already starting to seep. She pinched at her nipples, relishing the little bolts of pain that shot through her body. She watched Bobby slide a condom over his cock, then shut her eyes as he clambered clumsily onto her. He wasn't much to look at, but feeling him was different-he was thick, like a man should be, and that big white cock, ugly as it was, was no joke. Bobby immediately began thrusting it at her middle, trying to force into the moist slit of her pussy. Tawanda had to reach down and help it inside, before it bruised her, but once the fat head was between her swollen lips, it knew exactly what to do.

She threw back her head, gasping as Bobby's meat pierced her and began rasping in and out of her fuck-tunnel. If Bobby were a hundred percent prettier, Tawanda would have stopped him as he pulled it out, calming him with gentle hands while she treated it to a long, lavish suck, tasting her juices on its tight, unwashed skin. As it was, she was more than content to let Bobby take her to heaven, so long as the trip didn't take too long.

"You like that, baby? You like fucking my hot black pussy?" Tawanda had always been vocal during sex, even if she was being fucked by a freak; Bobby was more given to grunts and throaty mumbles. He had become a largely silent fuck-machine, his flat ass pistoning back and forth as he pounded her pussy raw. I'm gonna hurt like hell later; I got spoiled, just letting boys sniff my twat. I gotta get me an dildo or something, get me some exercise.