Danny Starr: Go Down Payments

"You dumb cunt, do you think I'm in business for kicks? This is a business like any other. When you borrow, you pay back. The fact that you're my first cousin doesn't mean shit to me."

He was six feet one inch tall, and for the first time, his eyes didn't show Florrie the kindness she had always gotten from him. He wore glasses most of the time, and his brown hair was always slickly combed, straight back. His suits were always beige or some other light color, making him look heavier than he really was.

Walter Morola had been Florrie's last hope, two months before. She had been out of work for three months, and both the electric company and the phone company were going to turn off their services because she hadn't been able to pay her bills. She had gone to Walt, her first cousin on her mother's side, hoping he would loan her the money simply because she was family. She intended paying it back as soon as she got a job. But Walt was a loan shark, and when he loaned her the money, it wasn't as a cousin, but as a businessman, expecting seven dollars back for every five he'd loaned her at the end of the first week. And he'd loaned her five hundred dollars.

It took a month for Florrie to get a job, and by the time she had some money for him, she owed him thirteen hundred dollars. Because she was a cousin, Walt was doing her a favor and charging simple interest instead of compound interest.

Walt knew there was no way she could pay back the money. She was a widow with two kids and the reason he had loaned her the cash was those two kids. One was fourteen, blond, and with a real erotic shape. Her breasts were full melons, just like her mother's, trying to burst out of the tight blouse holding them back. And the blouse Marge wore was always cut low, so one could see the luscious cleft between her full tits looking like a tight, narrow chasm between two huge mountains.

Walter dreamed about those mountains. And he also dreamed about Eva, the brown-haired girl. But it was Eva's twelve-year-old ass he dreamed of. He had to fuck that ass, and when Florrie had come to him, telling him her troubles, Walter had finally found the opportunity he'd sought. At last, he'd be able to get those two luscious little cunts.

Florrie was not quite thirty years old. She had jet black hair and didn't look the least little bit like her two daughters, except for her tits. Hell! Even Eva, at twelve, had big tits. Both girls took after their mother in that respect. Florrie's tits were bigger than either of her two daughters, though both girls were already taller than their mother. Florrie was all of five feet one inch in height, and the knockers she sported put the Rockies to shame. When she walked, they wiggled so that anyone approaching her thought she might be ready to fall forward because of the weight. She was the one who wore low-cut blouses to begin with, and her daughters merely followed her example. Her white, ample bosoms looked like two large snowcaps as they swelled out from the yellow blouse containing them. She had purposely not worn a bra that day, so her shaking tits would hold her cousin's attention. She knew Walter had always been hot for her. What she hadn't known was how hot he was for her daughters.

It was Sunday, and Walter usually didn't do business on Sunday, so Florrie had gone to his opulent bachelor apartment in the hope of convincing him to slow down the interest. She had a hundred dollars for him, but that would have brought her debt down to twelve hundred. By next week it would be fourteen hundred, and she wouldn't have another hundred dollars ready for him for at least two months. By then, her debt would be staggering… unless she could convince him to stop the interest from increasing. And all she had with which to do that was her body.

Florrie married at sixteen. Marge, her first child, was already a year old, and Marge's father had finally taken on a small, steady job. He had consented to marry her because there wasn't a better lay available in the neighborhood. And Florrie had remained married to him right up to when he had died of pneumonia. In the interim, he had given her one more daughter, Eva. After Eva, Florrie had her tubes tied, and her husband had been able to fuck her lovely body to his heart's content without her conceiving. And during all this time, Walter had envied Florrie's husband because he'd had an overpowering urge to fuck his cousin. That she had become pregnant by her now-deceased husband and had given him two daughters, had made Walter angry, thinking Florrie had purposely spurned his cock for that of the small timer she had eventually married. And when Florrie came to him, Walter saw the chance for which he had been waiting. He would be able to fuck his cousin for as long as it pleased him, but more important, he would be able to fuck each of those daughters. There was no question in his mind of Florrie's refusal.

But first things first. He knew why Florrie had come to see him on Sunday after church. She thought he would be softer and might be willing to go easier on her, once she showed him her willingness to at long-last fuck for him. And Walter was smart enough to pretend to go along with that idea… for the moment.

"Please, Walter;" she pleaded, handing him the hundred dollars, "this is all the money I have at the moment. But if you continue charging interest at this rate, I'll never be able to pay you back."

He stared at the thrust of her full breasts against that yellow blouse, noting every pulling crease, seeing how solidly the tits had stood up over the years. He knew she was depending on those tits to make him go easier on her.

"We might be able to come to some kind of agreement," Walter nodded.

"Whatever you wish," Florrie told him, her head humbly tilted down, making Walter smirk. He knew it was an act.

Florrie knew her cousin well enough to think it would be foolish to throw herself at him. She had to appear reticent at first, and shrink at the suggestion he was about to make. Then he would attempt to rape her; and she would make him believe he had succeeded. It was this wild, violent streak in Walter that had kept her away from him to begin with. Now, she realized it was kismet. Her body was meant to be mauled and manhandled by her cousin.

Picking up a decanter on the bar in his large living room, Walter poured two glasses of wine and handed one to Florrie. The two of them drank, then they put their glasses down, and Walter began approaching her. Florrie automatically backed away, seeing the menace behind the lenses covering his eyes.

"Please… " she whispered. "Walter, what's wrong? Why are you behaving this way?"

"Stop the crap, Florrie. You know why. You came here trying to con me into cutting down on the interest so you could eventually pay me off. And the only way you can do that is to offer me the one thing you know I've wanted… your cunt."

"No," Florrie pretended. "No, of course not. I didn't mean that at all. I felt, perhaps I could keep your apartment clean, and do your shopping for you, and even your laundry."

"All that I can get done for less than fifty a week. But suppose I was willing," he asked, moving closer, pushing her back until her legs touched the sofa behind her. "Let's say it's worth fifty a week to me. That still leaves a hundred and fifty a week in increasing interest. How do you expect to pay that off?"

Florrie tried to back away from him, feeling a chill race through her as she stared at him. Walter was building up to using her body, all right, but he was doing it in such a frightening manner. She stumbled against the sofa and fell back, sprawling onto the heavy cushions.