Danny Starr - Go Down Payments

Walter pounced, gripping her wrists, bringing them together in one hand. He pulled off his glasses and put them on the nearby coffee table, then smiled at Florrie, saying, "Yes, dear cousin. We can work it out."

"Let me go," Florrie pleaded. "Please, Walter, you're hurting me."

The ever-present fear she had felt since first coming to see him was building inside her. She would have willingly given him her body, but his single-minded intent of assaulting and possibly hurting her, was beginning to terrify Florrie. He had a strong, powerful body, and Walter's manner was one of arrogance. If her cousin did hurt her, how would she be able to go to work and support her children?

Still leering, Walter forced Florrie's arms up over her head, and back, stretching over her quietly shivering body.

"I waited so long for this," he gasped. "Now I'm going to enjoy every little bit of it."

He clamped his hungry lips over her ripe, alluring mouth, tasting the sweet fullness of her own lips. His tongue invaded her mouth, pressing against defiantly closed teeth, forcing them to slowly part. Little by little his oral digit probed into the heated cavity of her mouth, licking her own tongue, starting the prickles of lust working inside her. Flames of passion blistered through her writhing self.

But the pressure of his body against hers, bearing down on her stomach so suddenly, frightened her. She lay motionless, gasping for air, her arms up over her head, still tightly clenched in his forceful grip. Florrie realized how foolish she had been. There were dozens of other men who would have paid good money for her body. The reason for her having come to Walter in the first place was to avoid becoming a whore. She didn't even consider looking for marriage. She had two daughters, both entering into that difficult time of life between puberty and adulthood, and what man would want to bear the burden of caring for them? But now she was doing with Walter precisely what she had not wanted to do with other men.

Her brain began screaming all kinds of alarms, flooding the copious channels of her nervous system with adrenalin. She had to get away from this madman.

With a thrust of unpredictable strength, she shoved him off her and regained her feet. He lay between her and the front door. There was no way she'd be able to get to it.

Retreating around the sofa, she backed away, then saw the open door of his bedroom. If she could get in there, lock the door, maybe she could call the police to help her. It was ridiculous, but it was the only way out. In a modem building such as this, there was no outside fire escape.

Running into the bedroom, she attempted to slam and lock the door. Her numbed fingers frantically fumbled with the lock, trying to turn it as she pushed the door shut. But the lock seemed stuck. She couldn't turn it, even as she heard his heavy footsteps approaching the door. She gripped the doorknob, but he was far stronger than she, and slowly but surely the knob began turning. And then she felt the door being forced open as he pressed his shoulder against it.

"I'm… uhhhhh… through being… uhhhh… Mr. Nice Guy… " he gasped, finally getting the door open enough for him to enter the room. And when he did, he immediately slammed the door shut behind him and instantly locked it. Turning, he gripped Florrie's shoulders and dragged her over to the bed. Fear, real, honest terror, began trembling through her body.

"Don't hurt me," she whimpered. "Please, God, don't hurt me."

"This time we're going to do things my way, sweet bitchy cousin." And he flung her onto the huge, king-sized bed. "You try getting up from there, I'll wallop the shit out of you."

Walter's voice was icy with rage, angry at her cockteasing. He had been certain she had come to be fucked, and he had intended granting that request. He still intended granting it. His steely eyes bored into Florrie, making her cower, her hand clutching her blouse. He began unbuttoning the blouse. He should have torn it off, but he would have to replace the blouse if he did that, and he wasn't in the mood to shell out any more dough for this broad. From now on, Florrie was the one doing all the giving.

Florrie wanted to stop Walter's hands, but she was too frightened to move. She could see the almost-psychotic anger built up in him.

He tugged the blouse off her shoulders, exposing the wonderful mountains of her swollen breasts. They stood up and out, thrust at him with their huge, tan aureole pointed right at him, and the flat buttons of her nipples staring at him like eyes. The early afternoon sunlight bounced off her boobs, making them shimmer and radiate with alluring sensuousness.

His hands quickly found the zipper to her skirt, and he tugged it down, sliding the skirt off so he could see the rest of her lush body. A flimsy strip of pink nylon panty covered her fulcrum, but he was busy admiring the rest of her.

A low growl of throaty lust welled up inside Walter. His cousin looked more fabulous than ever. He realized now, more than ever, just how much he still lusted for Florrie. He had never seen her this naked, before. She had always been so divinely chaste in front of him, while fucking behind his back with that prick she had eventually married. And that was only after she had given birth to the daughter he had planted inside her. Christ! Just staring at the full, soft-fleshed mounds of her large wobbling breasts stoked the fires of wantonness in Walter's aching body. The firm, shining, almost glossy roundness of her full, columnar thighs, looking like pillars of alabaster, had him shivering with want for her. Staring at the sensual flare of her silky, rising hips, he felt his mouth starting to water. And then his eyes went to the juncture of her tantalizing, panty-covered pelvis, and his mouth hung open as his breath burned in his lungs, aching to get out. He was out of his mind with stampeding lust. His flaming penis was a leaping, swelling spear between his tensed thighs, straining the Italian fabric of his pants. He swiftly took off his jacket and threw it on the chair off to the side. Then he kicked off his shoes while undoing his pants, and pulled them, along with his ten-dollar briefs, down, letting them lay where they fell. His rigid cock seemed to leap out, as if spring-loaded, waving free in the cool air of the bedroom. It stood out with proud, assertive solidity, telescoping from the brown, wiry hairs covering his pelvis. And the hard, twitching cock was sending messages to his brain, impatiently urging him to hurry and answer the loud, anxious calls of his licentious body. His cousin's body was even more erotically arousing than he'd imagined. Seeing her lying there, shivering in her near-nakedness filled him with a wild sense of overpowering lust. Not that he hadn't mastered all the women he'd fucked, but Florrie was something special. Florrie was a girl he had once loved. She had spurned his love, but she was here anyway. And though she was terrified, she knew he was going to fuck her, and he gloried in the knowledge of her knowing. She still looked as young and precious as always, and he savored the wicked thrill shooting through him, thinking how he would also be doing this with her daughters. Yes, perhaps it was a good thing he hadn't been able to fuck her, before. Now he not only had her, but two who came from her, both of whom could melt the balls in any man. The golden-haired Marge, who looked like neither her father or mother, was a statuesque beauty at the age of fourteen. Every time she walked down the street, shimmying those tits, he could hear her body begging to be penetrated. And Eva, the twelve-year-old, with an ass that seemed to wink each time she walked away from a man. Shit! To think, soon he would be fucking all three.

He felt drunk with power over this voluptuous woman, and he intended exercising that power to the fullest. Now he could feel his massive erection twitch as he stared at the creamy shape of his cousin's body, outlined against the blue panorama of his bedcovers. She was so delightfully voluptuous, so beautifully naked, and so wonderfully vulnerable.