Danny Starr - Go Down Payments

"You got your period?" Walter asked.

Marge knew better than to lie about that. All he'd have to do is take one look, and he'd know she was lying.

"No," she answered, shaking her head.

"What you're telling me is, you're going to give me a hard time. Is that it?"

He was already starting to get angry. Since when did a little snot-nose tell him what to do and what not to do. She was here for his pleasure. It was the one thing keeping him from sending his strong-arm boys to her mother. It was no longer a question of how much he liked Florrie. If it got out he was letting her get away without paying him, others might try the same thing, and he would soon be out of business. Cousin or not, one way or another the debt she owed him had to be paid. He was making it easy for his cousin, not increasing the interest any more as long as she and the girls did what he wanted. But now the snotty little blonde was trying to renege, and Walter didn't like that at all. The blood was pounding furiously through his body, making his raging prick even harder.

"I… don't want to make things hard for you," Marge told him, her voice a mere whimper. "But you wouldn't want me this way. I mean, I might throw up or something."

"You might, but then you might not," he replied, his voice quivering with contained rage.

"Please don't make me," Marge begged.

"Don't make you?" he screamed in mounting wrath. "You little bitch, who the hell do you think you're talking to? I'm not some scuzzy boy friend who took you out on a date, hoping to cop a feel. It isn't as if I were a John off the street or something. Marge-baby, this is Walter, your loving cousin, the guy whose house you're gonna be living in for the next two years… at least. I'm the guy who is as close to being able to legally fuck you as a guy can get without a license."

His hands reached down and he suddenly jerked the covers off her. Her white, wraithlike beauty was exposed to his staring eyes. He didn't need his glasses to appreciate her. His glasses were for close-up work, and then, only if what he was looking at was small. And there was nothing small about Marge.

Marge had never thought the man could be this angry. She rolled herself into a ball, shrinking away from him, apprehensive of being hurt. The cool air washed over her body, making her shudder as she felt his eyes wash over her naked, silken flesh. He stalked around to her side of the bed, gripping his thick cock in his right hand. He started stoking it back and forth, and the foreskin seemed to slide up and down, first hiding it, then backing away and letting the head stand out in all its glory. The salacious sight should have repelled her, but instead, it fascinated her.

What snapped her out of her erotic reverie was his saying, "You're gonna look great at the other end of this, Marge."

"Golly, you're like a spoiled little kid," Marge snapped defensively. "If you can't have what you want, you start saying nasty things. Well, gee, you seem to look kind of natural standing there, pulling on that handle of yours. In my school, I hear the boys do that all the time. I hear it's called jerking off. Well go on ahead and start pulling on it. Go on, jerk off, because I don't think I want that frankfurter inside me."

Walter was stunned. For a young girl she certainly seemed to know a lot. Her words seemed to slash through him like a sharp-edged knife. The blade seemed to bite into his very soul, and for a moment he hardly knew what he was doing. His mind became a blur, and when he finally understood what was happening, he realized he was sitting on her chest, his cock in the valley between her tits, and his knees were pressing on her forearms, keeping them from moving. His hand was clamped tightly in her hair, tugging her head upright, and he was leaning forward as he now gripped his cock with his free hand and was slowly forcing the shuddering violet point toward her clamped mouth.

"No! No! No!" she cried out from between clenched lips. "I won't, I won't, I won't. This is perverted and disgusting."

Marge felt horrified, feeling his weight on her body, seeing the way he was thrusting his cock toward her face. Not that she wasn't fascinated by the sight of it. But the idea of putting it into her mouth was repulsive.

"You goddamn blonde cunt," he snapped. "You're gonna do just what I tell you to do. You're gonna take my hot cock into that big mouth of yours and you're going to suck on it until I shoot my whole wad down that bitchy little throat of yours. What's more, you're going to swallow every drop of it. And if you bite, or if you hurt me in any way, I'll split that blonde head of yours open like a rotten piece of fruit."

He released his cock at that moment and began slapping her face, not hard, but with enough force to sting and degrade her. There was a certain amount of self-control in the smacks as they resounded through the room. His instincts told him to wallop the shit out of her.

Marge began struggling under his weighty body, fighting and writhing to the best of her ability as tears of shame poured down her cheeks. But even as she struggled she knew this was useless. He was determined to fuck her mouth, and there was no way she could avoid this.

"Suck it, you cunt," he snapped, his voice sounding gravelly and hoarse with lust.

His hand jerked her head higher, pulling her face closer to his stolid, unbending cock, while his other hand slapped her pretty face each time she refused to comply. The pressure was becoming too much for Marge. She finally went limp under him.

His breathing had become heavier, and the pressure of his knees, digging into her forearms, had made them feel numb. Now his large buttocks pressed hard against her cushioned breasts, flattening them into her body, and she almost jumped when she felt him rest the head of his throbbing cock on her chin.

"Come on," he urged, no longer slapping her. "It isn't bad, Marge. You'll see. You'll come to love it, you really will."

Slowly, her tear-filled eyes tightly closed, she allowed him to raise her head the rest of the way. Reluctantly, she began parting her lips, opening her mouth.

"Now," Walter breathed, gripping the headboard above her with both hands after he'd propped pillows behind her head, taking his knees off her arms. "You take a good grip on my cock with both hands, honey. While you're holding it, you start licking it, up and down the underside, then all around. Then you lick my balls, too. And don't stop licking them until I say so. Got it?"

Walter Morola's handsome, evil face was a grotesque mask of sadistic lust. He had been willing to do this the easy way with the girl, if only she had been willing to go along. But she had proven bitchy, and now it was going down hard. He watched the subservient beauty of his awestricken, golden-haired first cousin-once removed, as she slowly extended her hands to surround his pulsating prick. Slowly, fearfully, her slender fingers surrounded it, then took a firm grip on it. This sent heated blisters of thrills to jolt through the solid rod, and he gasped a throaty grunt. He stared down at her face, watching her tear-shiny eyes enlarge in a combination of debased subjugation and inner desire. He could see the tiny flames of lust kindling in their brown depths.

Goddamn kid, he thought to himself, his mind almost furious that she should have given him such a hard time when it was obvious she wanted it as much as he. He'd teach the little twat a lesson once and for all. She'd know better than to keep herself back in the future when he told her to do something.

The thrilling sensation of his swollen, heated cock, hard in her unwilling hands caused bolts of electrical lust to burst through him, blinding him to everything but the lesson he had to teach this young, snotty girl. God! She had such a thrilling touch. God!