Danny Starr
Go Down Payments

Chapter 1

"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.

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.

Florrie gasped with terror as she felt Walter's hands slide between her thighs, moving slowly between the satin columns of her closed legs. She could feel his fingers relentlessly moving higher, forcing her thighs wider apart, climbing aggressively beneath the elastic band of her panties so they could titillate the softly curling wisps of black moss covering her quaking cunt.

"Please," Florrie begged. "Oh Walter, please don't hurt me!"

She was quailing with undisguised horror, backing away from him as if his fingers had fangs and were about to bite. She rubbed her satin buttocks into the softness of the bed in hopeless retreat from the roughness of his moving hand. "You just stop moving around, cousin," he whispered, but when she continued shivering and backing away, he reached out and smacked her face. Tears flooded from her reddened eyes.

She lay back, numb, terrified, unable to fight him, tears streaking down her stained cheeks, trying to blank her mind out. But she was painfully aware of Walter's hands forcefully on the sensitive inner area of her upper thighs. But there was no way she could fight him off. Her fear of this man's brutality and the way he would hurt her if she disobeyed him, terrified her. To remain still was to be raped. To fight, was to be beaten, then raped. She was terrified of making Walter any angrier, now realizing how much of the beast he still had inside him. She had thought the years might mellow him, but her cousin had become even more brutal. She could sense his animal anger, and she knew it was directed at her. She stared, unseeing, at the swollen, mottled cock which he now rested on her right thigh. He was daring her to shut her legs as he slowly began moving it up toward her twitching cunt. God! How Florrie wished she could black out, wanting to lose any feeling before he began his wicked assault.

A trembling blast of terror shot through Florrie as Walter's hand pressed lightly against her nylon-encased pubis, trying to tickle its way through her pelvic fleece. Trembling spasms moved through her frightened body as she felt him bunch the nylon material in a fist, and then an overpowering blanket of uncontrollable terror flooded her body as her cousin, with a quick, single, powerful tug, tore the sheer veil of protective fabric from between her shivering thighs. His movement was swift and brutal, breaking down that final barrier of possible defense against his uncontrolled, eager hunger.

"Walter… " her dry throat gasped, her voice suddenly cracking as she felt hysteria overtake her.

She began screaming uncontrollably, thrashing her arms around, not trying to hit, not caring if she did hit. And then she abruptly stopped, her breath catching achingly in her throat. Walter, ignoring her movements, had pushed his hard cock forward, and now she felt the first fearful sensations of his hard, rubbery, yielding glans as it lightly pressed against the quivering lips of her hair-fringed cunt. An icy shudder of additional terror ran through her. This simply could not be happening to her. It couldn't.

Her eyes opened wide, focusing on his body, and she was able to clearly see what was happening. The thick, throbbing hardness of his palpitating, swollen prick was poised at the soft entrance to her tender, helpless vaginal interior. It was so rigid, so burningly hard, it looked terrifyingly obscene.

The dresser mirror, across the room, threw back an erotic image of what was happening, letting her see how she looked to him. Naked, almost flat on her back, her thighs wide apart under this man's anxious, purple-headed, flexing cock, she could see him staring into the depths of her, as if seeing all the way inside her.

The blood in her arteries felt cold as she watched him guide the swollen, thick, red-shafted, desire-stiffened, bulky length of heavy cock toward the small, quaking center between her inner scalloped labia. And then, without a word, or any kind of hesitation, he lunged forward, first cocking his hips, then driving forward into the tight, dry depths of her unprepared vagina. The pressure was too much, stretching her while no moistness washed her interior, and then the lunging cock was moving into her with unbelievable speed, burying itself in her depths as far as it was able to go.

"Yaaaaaaaggggghhhh!" she screamed, as the pain washed over her.

Helpless to fight him, she screeched as her long, slender thighs kicked out futilely on either side of his body. For one trembling instant, Florrie was certain his knifing cock was going to cut her in half. Even if she had been wet and ready, her cunt had been totally unprepared for his length and breadth. Her dead husband had possessed a relatively small cock, and she had believed all men were built equally small. The massive truncheon Walter had forced into her had stretched her interior as never before. He held the thick baton locked inside her soft, enfolding membranes, thrilling to the fact that he was inside Cousin Florrie, at last, after all these years. He thrilled to the wild sensation of feeling his heavy, virile prick buried in the lovely woman's heated temple, feeling the way her cunt walls twitched, as if attempting to resist him. Little by little his hard cock began backsliding until only the swollen knob remained locked inside. His hands slid under the cheeks of her egg-shaped asscheeks, and he dug his fingers into the firm, resilient flesh, took a deep breath, and crammed his cock forward, gasping and groaning wickedly, forcing his long, swollen dork into the dark, teeming pinkness of Florrie's tender pussy, thrilling to the way it continued gripping him and preventing him from going any deeper.

"Stop!" she screamed. "Oh God… God… Walter, it hurts so much. God!"

She wailed and yelled, but he seemed not to hear her as she writhed piteously beneath him in a vain attempt to escape his skewer. But the lancing member remained firmly entrenched inside her.

Florrie, looking in the tilted dresser mirror, felt the full shock of the humiliating, licentious position in which he now had her. Her delicate, intimate depths were filled beyond belief by the massive thickness of her wicked cousin's swollen cock. To think he might have shoved this monstrosity into her fifteen years earlier, had she given in to him, instead of her now-deceased husband. God! To have to take this huge log inside her for fifteen years… The bizarre thought of her cunt having to be filled with his massive truncheon all this time seemed to inflame her already tortured brain, and she realized she was totally helpless, completely pinned by this evil man.

Rape was a humiliating experience. Why couldn't he have been a little less overpowering. She would have given into him with only token resistance had he been a bit more understanding. This attack of his was something she felt she would never be able to live down. It was an obscene assault on her flesh, robbing her of any respect she might have had for him, but worse, removing her own self-respect, as well. After all, she had come here with the idea of seducing him. The end result seemed to be the same, even if she wasn't as willing as she thought she might have been. To think she had leaped from the so-called frying pan into the fire by coming to this man for help. Yes, she had stumbled into this horrible den of sexual iniquity all by herself, with no help from anyone else. And now, as she felt his thick cock pump in and out of her, she felt more depressed and alone than ever. More and more self-loathing seemed to push its way into her body each time his marble-solid cock pumped into her. She could feel the way it flexed inside her, pressing against her dry, resisting interior, ravishing her pussy all the more. There was no way to stop him, nor was there any way to assuage him. All she could do was look in the mirror, and watch the coarse attack on her body continue.

Walter felt tingling thrills surge through him as never before. He wanted to humiliate and hurt Florrie for having made him wait this long, and yet the hate he felt was because he was so obsessed with possessing her. Now it had finally come to pass, and he was determined to enjoy it to the fullest. And the thought of using her daughters added impetus to his driving force each time he ploughed his thrusting cock into her. He enjoyed the slow, tingling withdrawals of his phallus from her inner tunnel, feeling the wicked resistance because the interior was bone-dry.

Florrie cried out again and again. Each time, she hoped he would pull all the way out and let her dress and leave, but each time her hope was a futile one. She stared up into his red-rimmed eyes, seeing the lust blazing in them, and then braced herself as he slammed the full length of his pulsing penis all the way into her. It ran all the way up into her body, filling every tender crevice, butting its blunt nose against her narrow cervix. Each forward stroke was a brutal one, filling her vaginal tract with a single lunge as his dangling balls slapped against the tender, smooth buttocks trying to close around her anal pucker.

Now he began stroking back and forth, tugging his swollen dork out with an evil abruptness, only to crash it all the way back into Florrie, maintaining a powerful, unbroken, powering rhythm. In and out he drove his thrusting pylon, rubbing her raw membranes until she thought they would tear and bleed, ramming his cock into her helplessly struggling cunt, enjoying the fact that she was unable to resist. With increasing thrills he pounded into her, whipping her tender, bruised vaginal lips with the harsh impact of his slamming groin, finally causing her inner glands to emit the first few drops of vaginal lubrication. Little by little, more drops came out, smearing themselves along the battered channel of her pain-filled vagina.

"Ohhhh… Jesus… " he gasped, his bulging eyes looking down, following the progress of the long, red length of his shining cock, first starting to shine with the moisture finally prompted from inside her cunt. He stared at the way it pistoned in and out of the pear-shaped vaginal mouth, gaping at the ragged pink flanges of her soft, labial folds, tugging out each time he pulled back, folding in each time he thrust forward. He continued pounding into her helpless body, thrilling to the way his hard cock filled and re-filled her seething interior.

His driving masculinity seemed to plunder every sensitive inner nerve of her anguished vagina. The lust-bloated prong appeared to expand and become even broader as he continued knifing his prong into her again and again, stretching the clutching membranes of her vaginal scabbard, massaging her inner genital tract into a massive conglomeration of throbbing nerve-endings.

His hands pressed against her shoulders, keeping her pinned to the bed as he continued to mercilessly plough into the trench between her widespread thighs, slamming in with deep, crushing strokes, shoving his thick, lengthy, pulsating cock right in to the balls on every in-stroke, then backing out until only the purple, bulbous head remained locked between her inner lips. What had been a dry channel was now a flowing canal as her own ointment continued to pour into her, causing loud. sucking sounds to be heard each time his cock moved back and forth.

"Ohhhhh Goddddd!" Florrie gasped. "It… feels… uuuuhhhhh…"

She gasped again and again, feeling totally helpless, her head whipping from side to side, her full, lissome body aching all over from the wicked thrusts being driven between her thighs. Her mind was dazed and reeling, and her eyes seemed to stare vacantly ahead. God! God! God! If only the terrible ordeal could finally come to an end.

Her body felt humiliated and shamed beyond belief. This was a horrible stigma she would carry with her the rest of her life. Even if no one else knew about it, she would feel the scars inside her. Thank God her children didn't know what she was enduring. It would have been terrible to have them find out.

But even as Florrie lay there, her mind reeling with all that had happened to her, she realized the pain was mental, not physical at this point. Deep inside herself, she felt the slow, insidious growth of lust, causing her inner nerves to ache and tingle at the same time. She was starting to really enjoy it.

The realization felt like something terrible, not because she abhorred the idea of enjoying sex, but because she felt she was sinfully enjoying what her wicked cousin was doing to her. Another one of the reasons she had avoided Walter in her youth was the fact that he was a first cousin. Even though she had been attracted to him while very young, the thought of doing anything with a first cousin seemed incestuous to her. And now, here she was, fucking with him, and worse, starting to like it.

The flickering flame of wanton desire was beginning to build higher and higher, and her grimly resisting mind began to slowly melt and yield to all that was happening. The fire inside her would not go out, but rather began increasing in size, slowly building into a burning pyre. It spread slowly at first, a combustion of smoldering desire in her own flaming pussy.

My God! she thought. I like it. God help me, but I like it. I like it very much.

A mindless growing of internal desire now seemed to obscure any pain she might have felt, moments earlier. The blast of spiraling flame within her was threatening to totally engulf her.

"Unnnnngggghhhh!" This time Walter groaned, feeling the way her body was lasciviously responding to what he was doing.

A vibrant thrill of wanton pleasure was shooting through his cock because of the anxious way her wet pussy walls now clung to it, sucking the heavy, inflated length of it deeper and deeper into her body. His loud, coarse, shuddering groan of desire seemed to trigger instant responses in Florrie's own body. The sound of his voice pealing into her ears was thrillingly obscene and arousing, flooding her confused self with new, anguished pleasures. And these were not merely new for the moment. Even with her husband, at the height of her sexual pleasure with him, she had never felt such thrilling delight.

No, she thought to herself, no, I mustn't give in. He's evil and wicked, and he hurt me. I mustn't surrender to the thrills I feel shooting through me now.

For what seemed like an endless eternity she balanced on the edge of indecision, tottering between reluctant tolerance of what he was doing, and total, irrevocable desire for more. And then the dam of sensation inside her could no longer be contained. She surrendered to an outpouring of heavy lust, feeling it well up from her blistering cuntal interior and shatter through her. She felt herself falling, falling, falling, tumbling into the mad vortex of total surrender.

"Uuuuuuuuhhhh… ahhhhhhhh… yesssssssss… yesssssssss… " she sighed to him, her voice full and heavy with distorted arousal. Passion ignited her and she clutched his driving body tightly to her own. Her torso was slowly undulating beneath his as she slammed her anxious pelvis upward to meet his down thrusting cock, thrilling to the full force of his pile-driving wedge as it continued moving through her. Her full, quivering asscheeks bounced wildly against the mattress and her mind blotted out all shame, forgetting all the self-deprecating thoughts she had been thinking. She was gasping, and her tongue came out more than once to wet her lips as she emitted anxious sighs of total enjoyment. Her brilliantly shining brown eyes filled with a rich, smoldering haze, as the sexual Tartarus inside her began unleashing itself in earnest. Her entire body seethed with the blistering fire of total eroticism and her mind thrilled to the point of insanity. She writhed and rocked, wetly slapping her steel-sprung body against Walter's stolid, pile-driving cock. Her full, heaving breasts smacked wantonly against the hairy hardness of his masculine chest, and her black hair flew back like an ebony banner. She sighed, gasped and moaned like a wild woman in the throes of epilepsy, her lovely, cushioned lips slightly parted in erotic licentiousness.

"Uhhh… Walter… Walter… yes… yesssss… more… uhhhh… more… don't stop… " she sighed as her arms wrapped themselves around his neck in a tender caress, her fingers pressing into his spine. Her hands began sliding up and down his backbone, pressing on his pumping ass, forcing him to drive even harder and faster into the wide open plane of her seething pussy, feeling the hunger inside her gobble him up.

She hadn't been fucked since her husband had died, and her body was aching for the feeling of cock. Her grief-stricken mind had hidden her body's needs from her, but now that it was out in the open, nothing her mind could do was able to hide this. Knowing it was Walter, in spite of the poor way he had treated her, made Florrie enjoy it all the more. Because her mind had forbidden her to enjoy him when she was younger, she was secretly thrilled to have him inside her now.

Walter, feeling the eager way she was accepting him, reveled in the delicious sensations of her thrilling body. This was Florrie, his cousin, whom he had coveted ever since he'd been old enough to understand just what it was a man did with a woman. At last she was his, but equally important, she was enjoying him, thrilling to the sensational delight of his proud, thick cock moving through her tight twat; the twat it had longed for all this time.

God, he thought to himself. She's crazy for it. I've really got her going. Christ! What a cunt. What a fabulous cunt. And this is only the beginning.

He continued fucking frantically between her widespread thighs. Christ! He'd known she was a hot bitch, but he'd had no idea she would come on this strongly. She was screwing above and beyond his wildest dreams. She had fought against it at first, but he half-suspected it was an act on her part. Why the hell else had she come there? Who did she think she was kidding with that cock-and-bull story about wanting to wash and clean and shop for him? All that haughty and proud pretending. Shit! When it came down to the fucking, she was hotter than any other cunt around, wanting cock more desperately than all the others.

Walter's mind continued to dwell lasciviously on the kind of bitch he believed Florrie to be as he continued thrusting his pounding dork into her creaming depths, listening to the lewd smacking sounds as they met, belly-to-belly. He could sense the way she was stretching her thighs all the more widely apart, hungrily attempting to suck in his entire crotch, balls and all. Her vagina nursed on his sinking cock with stronger and stronger pulling power. She was a gasping, sighing, thoughtless mass of total physical enjoyment. Her entire sweating torso was alive with exciting tingles and maddening, delicious rapture. She thought she would go insane with the pleasure she was feeling, and had to admit to herself, size, as far as cocks went, did matter. Walter was doing things to her she'd never been able to feel from her own husband, and her husband had been good. Her brain felt as if it would explode because her body felt as if it were being fucked to death. She no longer cared how or why. She knew she loved this violent, insensitive rape. Forgotten was the fact that her cousin had abused her. Forgotten was his having almost torn her pussy to shreds in order to bring her to this state. Everything in the world was now forgotten, caught up in the mad, lusting, overpowering, whirling thrills convulsing through Florrie's body, brought on by her cousin's anxiety to fuck her.

Their nakedly sweating torsos pounded and rocked against one another, and the air was filled with the rich, aromatic scents of pure lust. The wild cries of sensual arousal echoed through the air again and again as their bodies flashed in wild, insane abandon. They madly flailed one against the other in the age-old dance of fornication. Their minds were demented, and their bodies felt shapeless as their forms twined and twisted against one another. Walter's wet, thrusting torso crashed between the widespread, erotically kicking legs of the short, brunette widow.

"Florrie, Florrie, oh God… I've waited so long… so long," he panted, holding her body tightly to him, speeding up the tempo of their fucking, feeling the approach of their rapidly rising climaxes.

"Come on, Walter," she gasped. "Don't stop now. Fuck it into me," she begged anxiously, knowing a towering climax was waiting only moments away.

It hit her sooner than even she expected. Her voice caught in a series of moaning whimpers. Her thighs suddenly clutched him tightly to her, and her calves crossed over his back. The strong, powerful eruption felt as if it would blast her apart.

"Walter… ohhhhh… " she screamed, "I can feel it… I'm coming… Uhhhh… eeeeeeyyyyy aaaagggghhhh… Aaaarrrggggghhhhhhh!"

Her voice wailed loudly and shrilly, her pelvis jerking madly out of control as the massive cataclysm of her torso-smashing climax hit her with the full force of a hydrogen bomb, totally shattering her flesh into trillions of atomic particles of enduring thrills. Blast after blast of lightning seemed to strike her body as she spasmed again and again.

Florrie continued wailing and screeching as a second climax walloped her. Her head flailed wildly from side to side, her body quivered and trembled, alive as it hadn't been for so many months as insane sensations blistered through her. She jerked and flailed like a marionette as gallons of pure, uncut pleasure flooded her. At that moment she felt like a mindless quantity of raw sensuality, and any fear lurking inside her was suddenly washed away. Christ! She had never known an orgasm could be so complete. It was an experience beyond anything she had ever known before, total, and completely nerve-shattering. It was a kind of miracle, and Walter was the magician.

In the dimness of her climax-fogged mind, the thrilled widow suddenly became aware of a tight stiffening in the body of the man who was still wildly fucking into her. He was shuddering from head to toe, his pubes thrusting madly into her fulcrum as his ass slammed back against her heels. He was fucking into her with such force her loins were literally lifted off the bed from the force of his powerful thrusting.

"Oh, Florrie! Aggghh…aaahhhh! Uuuggghh… I'm… agh… commmiiinnnnggg… I'm… uggghhhh… eeeyyy!"

He was blasting his white, spunky load into her body, shooting the white, ropey fluid deep and hard into the hungering mouth of her cervix, feeling the waiting sheath of her cunt continue to caress the pounding dork. Blasts of the thick, thrilling liquid shot way up into her womb, and it brought on a third orgasm inside her as she screamed, "Eeeeyyyy aaahhhh!" He continued fucking into her without letting up, filling her helplessly flooded vagina with more and more of his heated spunk until she felt as if the fluid was going to drown her vital organs.

Walter's orgasm seemed to go on forever. He continued flushing her cunt with his seminal fluid. The hot, burning substance trickled delightfully through her tender interior until, when there was no longer anything left in him, it stopped, and his long, thick, mighty cock began to finally bow its head and shrink. Eventually it was too small to remain locked in her quim-confines, and it slipped out of her.

He lay on the bed beside her, gasping for breath, pulling air into his lungs.

"Please, Walter," Florrie begged, herself drained of strength. "Have a heart. You know I can't meet those interest payments."

"Maybe we can work something out," Walter panted.

"Anything," Florrie agreed, envisioning him wanting to take it out on her body.

"To begin with, what happened today knocks twenty bucks off the interest for this week. And any day I get it into my head to fuck you will knock an additional twenty bucks off for that week."

"But that's only ten percent of the interest."

"Yeah, well I'm gonna take you up on that other offer, of having you do my laundry, my cooking, my housecleaning. For that, I'll pay sixty bucks a week."

"But that still leaves a hundred and twenty dollars a week in interest," Florrie objected.

"Yeah, well I tell you what. I got me a three-bedroom apartment here. You and the girls move out of that rat trap and move in here. Instead of paying rent there, you pay it here. Whatever you save in rent, phone and electric you can pay to me."

"That averages out to seventy-five dollars a week," Florrie pointed out. "Assuming we fuck two days a week, that still leaves fifty-five dollars in interest alone, every week. We haven't begun to pay back the back interest, and the principal."

"Yeah, well I have a way," Walter told her. "And it's the only way, so you'd better make up your mind to it, right now."