David Crane: She licked the landlord

"Oh, shit," Crystal Norris muttered. She knew damned well that it was the landlord who had just knocked on her apartment door.

And she knew what he wanted, too. The girl had sneaked out early to get the morning newspaper and now she was back in bed, scanning the classified section. She was looking for another apartment but first she had to find a job, since she had no money at all to pay the rent or even make a deposit.

She couldn't have paid the rent in this dump, either – if she hadn't came to an arrangement with the landlord.

And she knew he had come to collect.

Al Gunderson, the landlord – or slumlord, as Crystal thought of him – stopped by every single day. And it seemed to the girl that, although no dollars were involved, she was paying a very steep rent, indeed.

It was a good thing she liked sucking cocks. Otherwise, her tenancy would have been unbearable.

Crystal was a very lovely young lady, eighteen years old, with honey-blonde hair and big, bouncy tits and the sort of ass that made men – or lesbians – drool.

She was a small-town girl who had recently moved to the city and hadn't found employment yet. All of her savings were gone, and she was getting desperate.

She hated the studio apartment she was in, a shabby place with peeling wallpaper and bare water pipes along the ceiling and a stained sink that leaked and dripped onto a rotten carpet.

Still, it was a roof over her head.

And her head was paying for it, too.

She held her breath, keeping quiet, hoping that Gunderson would think she had gone out.

It wasn't that she was cheap or dishonest or a deadbeat. Crystal didn't really mind paying the rent the way she had been doing, ever since she had spent her last few bucks.

But it was getting excessive.

Gunderson had her over a barrel and he expected a blow-job every morning. And it seemed to Crystal – although, being an innocent small-town girl, she couldn't be sure – that she ought to have at least a two-bedroom place, or even a penthouse, in return for swallowing a load of cum every morning.

Then, too, Gunderson was not an attractive man.

His prick was okay, though. It was big and tasty, and he never took very long to get his rocks off. So if she closed her eyes, or kept her gaze on his balls, while she made believe he was a movie star, it wasn't so bad.

If only he were a bit more polite and gentlemanly about it, she thought. But, being a slumlord, Gunderson knew nothing of civility. He demonstrated that now.

He rapped more demandingly on the door. "C'mon, you deadbeat bitch! I know you're in there!"

She sighed and saw no way out of it. "Come on in, Al," she called. The door flew open and Gunderson stepped in, an evil grin on his ugly face.

He was a big brawny fellow, wearing his customary outfit of baggy tweed trousers – his shooting britches, Crystal wryly called them – and a stained undershirt under the suspenders that held the pants up.

The top of his head was bald and he had a fringe of hair, like a slipped halo, circling the dome just above his jutting ears. His eyebrows were bushy, as if to compensate for his slick skull, and he had bristles of hair sticking from his nostrils.

Still, it could have been worse.

Suppose she had had to fuck him in the missionary position, face to face?

Even when she was down on his prick, the garlic on his breath was overwhelming. Crystal, a delicate young lady, would never, ever have kissed him on the lips.

It was bad enough to kiss his cock.

Gunderson strode up to the bed, where she was sitting cross-legged, the newspaper spread out on her lap like a paper chastity belt.

"Rent time, cock-sucker," he hissed, in his usual rude bedside manner.

Crystal looked resigned. She really had no choice – and she had the solace of pretense, fantasizing about someone else as she gulped away on the creep's cock.

"Yeah – okay," she said softly.

He began to open his pants as he stood beside the bed, his loins thrust out. His baggy trousers had a button fly and he undid them one by one, leering down as if he thought that he was teasing Crystal by the delay – as if the girl was eager to suck him off.

Crystal twisted around to face him, still sitting in the cross-legged position, which was as comfortable as any when the cock-sucking lacked enthusiasm.

She stared straight ahead at his groin, which was a preferable sight to his ugly face. It was a shame that his prick wasn't attached to a nicer guy, she thought, wondering whimsically if cocks could be transplanted.

But that was a moot point.

Gunderson was much too mean to be an organ donor and would take his cock to the grave.

His fly opened wide and his baggy trousers hung suspended by the elastic straps. He wore boxer shorts with polka dots and arrows as a design. Reaching into the opening, he dragged his cock and balls out.

He had a thick, blunt cock, soft of stubby but not at all unsightly or malformed – quite attractive, really, with the big, bulging knob and heavily veined stalk. The cock-head was a dusty beige hue, the cock-shaft a pale tan.

His prick was only semi-stiff and he pulled his hand up and down a few times, panting as he stroked, making it firmer.

Crystal waited in resigned patience, her lips slightly parted, her warm breath wafting onto his prick as she exhaled and the gamy aroma of his prick filling her nostrils as she breathed in.

"Ought to charge you double," he grunted.

"Huh?" she asked.

"Room and board – all the jizz I been feedin' you." He chuckled, thinking that hilarious. "Meat ain't cheap these days, you know."

His laugh was a sort of bray, slobber spraying from his curled-back lips like a blowing horse.

He pumped away, cranking his cock up slowly. It got harder and thicker and began to angle up. He gazed down at his cock, as if he had to look in order to decide if it was stiff enough to be sucked.

His prick wasn't rock-hard yet, sort of rubbery, but he judged it was tense enough. He slid his hand back and cupped his swollen balls, shoving his fucker into her face with a lurch of his hips.

Crystal didn't hesitate.

She figured that she might as well get it over with. And, too, the actual cock-sucking wasn't unpleasant – as long as the coarse man kept his mouth shut while he was stuffing hers.

Her honey-blonde head ducked forward and she slipped his bulging cock-head into her mouth.

When Crystal gave head through choice, she liked to linger over the preliminaries, licking for a while on a guy's balls before she mouthed his prick. But with Gunderson, she started right in sucking his prick.

She breathed in and panted out.

His fat cock-knob lay on her tongue, flaring and swelling, the rubbery texture turning firmer, then getting hard. Her lips collared his fat cock just below the blunt cock-head, peeling outward as she sucked.

Gunderson held her pretty face between his rough palms and began to hump, fucking deeper into her maw. She switched her tongue back and forth against the underside of his cock-knob and her lips pulled steadily.

"Yeah! Suck, baby – suck my cock!" he grunted.

His ass corkscrewed as he face-fucked in and out, stabbing back into her throat. His prickknob clogged her gullet and she gagged. He moved his hand off his hairy balls, and they swung up and slapped her under the chin.

"Yuh love it, don't yuh, cock-sucker?" he rasped, no doubt being romantic.

"Umpghhh!" she muttered around his prick. "Milk my meat, you slime-drinkin' slut!" His cock-head fucked into her throat. She sucked on the cock-stalk as he drew back, her lips rubbing up and down, working with the steady friction that would bring him off quickly.