Nick and Tawnya

By T. H. Barker

Adults Only! Nick was a player. He could smell a slut for black cock at fifty feet across a crowded dance floor! Chicks lined up to try out his monster meat in every hole... And Nick fed his buddies the hangers-on and sloppy seconds, which kept him in sycophants.

Now, the problem with this was that Nick was married -- to Tawnya. For a long time, she buried her head in the sand -- as long as she didn't KNOW what he was doing, she could look the other way. But one day, Nick slipped up -- very visibly. Tawnya couldn't pretend anymore -- not when she possessed a video of some blonde trying to swallow Nick's cock whole! It was time to do something -- and Fate provided not only the 'what,' but the 'who'!

• Language: English
• Publisher: T. H. Barker
• Release date: May 2, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476487625

T. H. Barker

T. H. Barker has been publishing erotica on the web since 2003 under the pseudonym Thinking Horndog and has a following on several sites of readers delighted and entertained by the quality of his works. "I tend not to write pure stroke, but rather put my characters -- who are NOT perfect people or Barbie dolls -- in real situations and wrap a real story around the sex scenes. I'm known for my humor, which is a little twisted..."

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Nick and Tawnya

T. H. Barker

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 T. H. Barker

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Chapter 1

Nick was a hell-raiser. We'd go out every Friday or Saturday night, the three of us -- me, Nick, and Ed -- and Nick would generally manage to collect a woman. There was something about him that made it easy; it wasn't visible to me, but it smelled like catnip to women -- especially women of a certain type...

You see, Nick was black. He didn't attract black women, as a rule, however -- no, he mostly attracted white women and had a preference for blondes, natural or bleached. I don't know how he managed to do it, but he could smell a slut for black cock at fifty feet across a crowded dance floor -- and it was mutual! He had to be converting them, too, but I don't know how, exactly. He just did it, somehow. It was very seldom that we hit the end of the evening and he didn't turn to Ed and me and say, Cover me -- I got to take care of business! while squeezing some bitch against him. And we would nod and wave and cover his big, muddy footprints if anything came up. Our payment tended to be Nick's bitch's girlfriends, if he could convince them -- or maybe sloppy seconds after he'd bored the bitch out with his ten-incher. Some of them were real party animals once they got going. I was always amazed -- he'd call them 'bitch' to their face -- but it was all apparently part of his gangsta rap, which was just as apparently part of the draw...

'So why did Nick need coverage?' you ask? Simple. Nick was married -- to Tawnya. Tawnya was the only black woman I ever saw Nick with that wasn't a relative -- and I don't know how she tied him down and got him to the altar, but she did it. Maybe it was her moxie -- something she had plenty of. She could be downright belligerent and had an attitude for everything -- but it wasn't abrasive, it was cute. We would be sitting on the couch at Nick's on Sunday, nursing our hangovers and watching football or basketball and Tawnya would come in and put her fists on her hips and cock her head and declaim, You'd better GET your big feet OFF my coffee table... or Jesus, Ed! Can't you hit that big mouth of yours with popcorn? or Jack, if you spill another drop of that beer on my couch, you're gonna wash it! We would pretend to be properly chastised while Tawnya rubbed Nick's shoulders, and I would spend the time with my eyeballs stuck in the deep valley between her tits. I KNOW she caught me -- regularly -- because she would wave a finger at me -- but she never seemed mad.

Tawnya went everywhere with her head high and those titties of hers pushed out in front of her. The rest of her wasn't bad at all, either -- just padded enough to be curvy and hot-looking in just about anything. But the jugs were imposing -- just big enough to be out of proportion, but not big enough to be a joke. They were, I dunno, bigger than a grapefruit, but smaller than a cantaloupe, whatever cup size that is, fat, but pointy -- and if they sagged, I never noticed it. When she bent over, though... WOW! I don't really do black chicks as a rule, but I made an exception for Tawnya -- she was on my top ten list.

We never talked about Nick's latest conquest on Sunday -- that waited until Monday at work. Then Nick told EVERYBODY -- and we were his witnesses. He could get a blowjob from any of the half-dozen female employees and could get about half of them to kneel up and take his meat -- even the ones that pretended they were as pure as the driven snow. Being married meant nothing -- the married ones fucked, too -- in fact, they were the ones most likely! Nick would chuckle and say, Too much exposure, and wink if someone brought it up. The ones who pretended to be untouchable came and went, because Nick wouldn't let them get away with it -- he would hook one and get Ed to catch them going at it with a camera and she would be everybody's gang-bang bitch until she found a new job. At least one never bothered to try; Donna took a dick a day from somebody, and went looking if nobody booked an appointment over lunch -- apparently her old man wasn't much good in the sack. Customers thought she was an ice maiden, however, and that worked for everybody.

* * * *

Everything went just fine until the day of Pete's birthday party. It was a Tuesday, and we'd agreed the previous Saturday that I would pick Nick up at his place, so I went home and changed clothes and headed up to Nick's.

I pulled up into the driveway and sat waiting for him to come out,