She gasped hoarsely, still struggling to regain her breath. "Oh, oh that felt so good!"
Roger only smiled wordlessly, pulling his fingers from the warm wet grip of her pussy, wiping the slippery traces of her orgasmic fury from his hand with a handkerchief, keeping one eye on the baseball game. Then he spoke, "We're not done yet. Take off your clothes."
Without thinking, Margaret hurriedly removed her crumpled dress and panties, then unhooked her garter belt and, sitting on the edge of the sofa, pulled down her stockings and left them in a heap on the living room carpet. In just a few seconds, she was completely naked, her ripely mature body glistening with tiny beads of perspiration from the excitement and the anguished anticipation of having her first man in almost six months. She glanced down at him reclining on the sofa with his head tilted toward the television screen watching the Oakland A's hit a home run, and she covetously eyed the thick elongated bulge in his polyester pants that seemed to her passion-glazed eyes to be a foot long. She twitched nervously, unused to a man's hungry eyes on her naked flesh. "You 'vant to watch 'vatch me or de game?" she whined finally, grinding her sleekly firm thighs together to fight the growing agony between her legs.
But Roger had other plans, plans he'd laid out as carefully as those he was watching on television. Only his stakes might be higher… Margaret was coming along nicely, even better than he'd hoped. But if she was going to have any respect for him at all, he was going to have to show her who called the punches. Women liked that, he thought, they liked to be dominated – especially blondes.
Margaret watched nervously and impatiently as he swung his legs off the sofa and without haste pulled off his clothes, tossing them to join the rest on the nearby chair. She had to quickly draw her hand to her lips to stifle a gasp as he tugged down his undershorts and the entire huge length of his massively thick cock swung out into view. God, it was so big! Even bigger than Sandor's! And so big around, nothing like the only one she had ever seen.
"You 'vant to fuck now?" asked Margaret with saucered eyes. Just the thought of making love again was enough to make her soar. And with a man as handsome as Roger, she thought. A man… her man. He liked her; he had praised her cooking and cleaning, hadn't he? Wasn't that what a man looked for in a good woman. A ripple of happiness spread through her tingling body: she wouldn't be spending the rest of her life alone after all. She had Roger. But it bothered her the way he kept watching television instead of whispering sweet endearments in her ear, as Sandor had done. Her forehead furrowed and her pouty lower lip protruded as she said, "You 'vant to make love, or not?"
Roger glared at her. "Get down on your hands and knees," he ordered. "I want a blow job. You Scandinavians are supposed to be good at that."
Margaret's mind reeled at the sound of those horrible words. Where was the love? She'd done it with Sandor thousands of times, but he had never demanded it of her. The blonde widow drew a deep breath and forced a smile. It that's what her man wanted of her, that's what she would do, but the tingling ache between her legs cried for a need to be fulfilled, too. "But can't we make love first?"
"You heard what I said. Now get down on your hands and knees and show me what you're worth." The landlord was determined that this step in Margaret Sorenson's total subjugation and humiliation would not be skipped over. "Down on your knees. Now!"
Brushing her blonde hair from her eyes, Margaret obediently crawled from the sofa and settled at Roger's feet, all the while trying to think of a way to get Roger to make love to her instead of what she must do. She knew he meant it; the flash in his dark eyes promised that. He was the only man in her life now. God had taken her first man, and now it was time for him to give her a second. She needed him, needed a man to cook and clean for and make love to her in return. His dangling cock, sagging from its own immense weight, was scarcely a foot away from her face as she struggled to hold back the hot lump in her throat, terrified and skeptical of having another man's big white cock in her mouth… that same mouth that had only kissed and sucked her dear Sandor's. Another man's cum in her throat… it was almost too hard to swallow.
Roger slid forward on the sofa, gauging carefully the distance from his limply hanging prick and her wetly trembling lips. He adjusted his hips just slightly so that the purplish swollen head brushed her lips ever so little.
"All right, baby… it's all yours! Do a good job and I'll make it up to you later. Now hurry up, the A's will be back at bat in a couple of minutes." And with that he gave her a rough pinch deep inside her naked thigh as she knelt below him, squeezing her soft tender flesh just an inch from the warmly moist lips of her still-hungry pussy.
Margaret turned her face away from the enormous bulb-shaped head and closed her eyes, hoping somehow that it would go away – or better still, turn into Sandor's long hard prick that she knew every ridge and vein of.
Roger spun her head back so that she was less than a scant inch from his half-erect, dangling prick.
"Listen, sweetie, I don't wanna get rough with 'ya, but I said to hurry up, okay? OKAY?" His tone was calm, but threatening, and Margaret didn't want to get him angry. She'd heard him yelling at some tenants upstairs about being late with the rent, and had witnessed his rage as he slammed his clenched fist into the door and sent it rocking on its hinges. With his size and strength, she knew she would be helpless against him.
Suddenly he grew tired of waiting and grabbed her ears with his powerful hands and twisted them upward, causing a pain so excruciating that she thought for a moment she would black out. She cried out for him to stop, but he ignored her pleas, keeping one eye on the television screen and one on her. Abruptly, he pulled her face roughly up to his naked loins, shoving his hips forward so that the blunted end of his heavy cock pressed lewdly against her moistly glistening lips. Once more he twisted at her small ears and she again groaned with pain.
"Now, Margaret… open your mouth and suck it! Now! Suck it!" he screamed above the deafening roar of fan's cheers blasting from the television set.
Her mouth opened slightly with one more twist and her agonized lips slowly parted as Roger gazed at the wetly open orifice in front of his loins, then very carefully forced the massively pulsating head into the warm moist cavern and let it lay there twitching slightly as it grew still harder and more erect. The young widow didn't move at all, lest the brushing of her quivering tongue on the enormous heated shaft of flesh should cause it to grow even larger.
"It's your choice, honey, but I will have a blow job…" His voice was suddenly convincingly cruel.
Margaret knew it was hopeless to resist the landlord and, admittedly, there was a part of her that didn't want to displease the darkly handsome man, this was something she must do or lose him… lose the one spark in her dreary life. And she couldn't stand the thought, no matter how disgusting this awful degrading act seemed. She fought back the churning ball of nausea growing thicker by the second in her knotted, fear-wrenched belly and closed her wetly walled lips over the throbbing fleshy staff and eased it reluctantly with her tongue, feeling his hands loosen their grip as she obediently complied with his harsh demands. His powerful hands still held her, though not as painfully, but she knew she should please him to avoid a scene. Margaret didn't like scenes; Sandor had been such a mild-mannered, loving man. But Roger had it in him to be brutal if he wanted to, and that scared her. She closed her eyes and tried to keep her mind on the long pulsing prick that loomed before her.