Danny Starr - Go Down Payments

Finally dropping the towel, Walter stepped back to inspect her body, rosy with blood coursing through the many vessels at high speed because of the way he'd dried her.

"In your own way you're just as lovely as your mother and your sister," he told her. "I gather your sister told you about yesterday." Eva nodded. "Yes, sisters love to talk to one another about things that happen, good or bad. And did Marge think it good, or bad?"

"She… she liked it," Eva finally admitted.

"Sure," Walter nodded. "I knew that. I'm glad she told you the truth. You see," he said, unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off, "I'm going to make things as good for you, too. But in a different way."

"Oh?" Eva asked, her breath catching in her throat, feeling more embarrassed at watching him undress than she did because he was admiring her naked body.

He unbuckled his belt, then dropped his pants, kicking off his shoes so he could step out of them. Then he dropped his undershorts, and Eva knew, what she had seen in the movie the previous day was small compared to what she was staring at, now. It was a huge telephone pole of flesh, glistening as the secretions leaking from its tip covered its head and part of the red shaft, as well. The veins winding through it made it look like a columnar road map.

"Are you thirteen, Eva?" he asked, tugging off his socks.

She shook her head.

"Do you know what we're going to do?" he inquired.

"What you did with Marge?" she asked.

"No," he told her. "Oh no. If I treated you like Marge, you might think I didn't regard you as an individual. No, honey. We're going to do something else. But I don't want to rob you of your virginity, at least not yet. You are a virgin?"

She nodded her head vigorously, her big, wide, brown eyes almost begging him not to hurt her. Although he hated to admit it to himself, Walter was feeling a certain amount of sentimentality for Florrie and her daughters.

With men who owed him money, Walter felt nothing in the way of sympathy. Anyone dumb enough to need money badly enough to come to him for a loan, deserved whatever they got if they didn't come up with the viggerish.

His anger with Florrie stemmed from feeling rejected when she had become pregnant by her now-deceased husband. Hell! Even after Marge had been born, he would have married her had she been willing to come to him. But no, she went and married the prick who had fucked her, and as a result, when he'd died, she had been penniless. Dumb cunt! He had more dough socked away in secret bank accounts than he would need in ten lifetimes. Had Florrie married him, they would be living in a mansion instead of a crummy apartment. So what if the place commanded a rent of nearly a grand a month. It was still a crummy apartment.

In a way, he owed all his success to Florrie's refusal of him. He had been studying to be a bank officer in college when Florrie had gone and let herself get knocked up. Then, when she'd been dumb enough to marry the guy, Walter, feeling totally rejected, had decided to take it out on the human race. Using his life savings, he had started his private loan sharking racket, separate from organized crime. And before the big boys were fully aware of him, he had built up a big network of his own, with a big goon squad. The Mafia could have put him out of business, but it wouldn't have paid. The damage to them would not have been worth it, especially since Walter was small fry compared to all their own operations. He was a single shark, and the business he took away from them was almost nothing, especially since he was very cooperative about selling them some of his larger customers-the really tough ones with political pull who might not have paid him back, but would definitely pay them back.

Had he married Florrie, he would have been a nine to fiver, working hard at a bank, eventually becoming some kind of officer, getting his share of ulcers. This way, his only real worry was the police. And even they didn't worry him too much. He had enough money right now to retire, and eventually he was going to do just that. But if he retired while Florrie was living with him, she might not want to go on living with him. He had waited too long to get Florrie and her girls. He wasn't going to let them go, now.

"You're a very pretty girl," he said, smiling at Eva, who was almost cowering, she was so afraid of him. "All of you is pretty, including that hot little pussy of yours. I can see from here that it's wet, and not from water, either. That's lubrication making those pretty pussylips shine."

He reached out, touched her shoulder, and felt her flinch for a moment. But it was only for a moment. She straightened up again and faced him. He spun her around, facing away from him, and let his hand run up and down her spine for a moment. Then he caressed her full buttocks, salivating as he stared at them.

"You have a lovely ass," he whispered, "a really lovely ass. I'm going to use that ass, honey."

Eva trembled a little. She recalled the movie of the previous day, watching as one of the men had pushed his penis into the rectum of one of the girls. The girl had been happy to take it in, apparently thrilled to have a stiff rod in her gloryhole.

Well, Eva thought to herself. Anything another girl can do, I can do.

But even as she thought that, Eva realized her body was still small, and her orifices would naturally be smaller and tighter. She had the feeling it was going to hurt, and more than a little. But she knew any resistance on her part would only make it hurt much more.

When Walter took her arm and led her into the bedroom, she docilely followed. He made her climb onto the bed, then remain there on her elbows and knees. The covers felt warm and soft under her, and she wished she could feel them on top of her. The room's cool air, especially after a shower, was making her tremble. Or was it just the cool air?

Walter stood there, looking at the upraised ass. It gleamed whitely in the mid-afternoon sunlight streaming in through his bedroom window. The curves of her luscious flanks would even rouse an impotent cock into action.

"Put a pillow under your stomach and head," he advised, not able to understand why he should feel concern, when all he should really feel was lechery. Deep down, he had the weirdest sensation, as if Eva and Marge were his own daughters. Yet that made fucking them even more enjoyable as far as he was concerned, because the idea of incest with a beautiful daughter was something that would really appeal to his prurient mind. Christ! When he was younger, he would have fucked his own mother, had his mother lived long enough. She had died while he was still in puberty.

Eva wanted to cry, feeling so undignified with her buttocks thrust way up in the air this way. His hand was now rubbing her soft pussy, touching it lightly, caressing it, building little fires in her, but she felt so ashamed he should be staring at her while she was in this position. Her head was pressed into the pillow she had taken, and she could look straight back between her partially open thighs, seeing his thick cock and dangling balls. She could also see his hand pressing against her hairless swelling.

Walter worked his fingers up and down the narrow slit, looking at her asshole and drooling. It was a defenseless orifice, waiting to be attacked, and he intended using it. Doing so, would ease the sadistic anger he felt each time he thought of how Florrie had left him. The anus seemed to wink at him, as if urging him closer to its hairless center, and her slightly wiggling asscheeks seemed to enhance the invitation. They were so white and smooth. Christ! It wasn't the idea of fucking her asshole that really appealed to him as much as pushing his cock between those lovely white mounds of flesh. He wanted to feel them close around his member as he sawed it in and out of her tight rectum.