Simon Jillson: Driven To Depravity

"I think the view alone is worth a million dollars," she commented.

McCarter looked sideways at her. His eyes swept down the graceful line of her body. "Which view?" he asked.

Judy resisted the urge to fold her arms defensively across her breasts, and held her pose. "That one," she replied with a toss of her head.

"What about this one," he countered, nodding in her direction.

Judy felt herself flushing slightly. "I'm hardly the judge of that," she answered carefully.

"Well spoken," he told her with a smile. "What's in this deal for you?"

"Huh? My usual commission. That's all," Judy answered, her fingers gripping the rail tightly.

"What if I told you I'd give you the same commission, even if you could get the price lower?" the red-haired man asked carefully.

Judy took a deep breath, and felt her nipples rub the inside of her blouse. Her tits stiffened sharply. She didn't glance down, but saw McCarter's eyes slide to her breasts and knew it showed.

"That would be unethical – illegal, in fact," she replied.

"Hmm," the man acknowledged wordlessly. His eyes were still on her breasts.

Judy took a deep breath, and straightened her back a fraction. Inside, she was shaking. "Besides, it's impossible," she explained. "The seller will not go below a million and a half."

"And you think it's worth it," he observed, shifting his gaze to her face.

Judy was wrestling with herself. McCarter was poised on a knife edge, ready to tumble either way. She knew what she was going to have to do in order to get the sale. Inside she was a mixture of shame, disgust, and, undeniably, excitement.

"Why don't we go inside and look at the house again," she suggested softly.

"Including the master bedroom?" the man asked.

"We might even start there," Judy answered. She led the way across the deck to the sliding glass doors that opened out onto the deck from the master bedroom. It was on the outer end of one leg of the horseshoe. It had windows on three sides, and was suspended out over the valley. In the center of the room was a king-sized bed.

In the air-conditioned coolness, Judy turned to face Andrew McCarter.

Kicking off her sandals, she went up very close to him and unbuttoned his suit jacket. Spreading it open, she brushed his firm, strong torso with gentle fingers. It was, she reflected, much easier the second time.

"What do you think?" she asked softly. "Is it worth it?" She tipped her head back and looked into his frank blue eyes.

"It's still just a little soon to say for sure," he countered.

"True," Judy agreed. She carefully eased his jacket back off his shoulders and down his arms. She hung it carefully over the back of a nearby chair. "But, I'm confident you'll agree with me in the end," she told him.

She released his sapphire tie clasp, then attacked the neat knot at his throat. As she did, his strong hands gripped her shoulders, then slid down to her ribs. His fingers squeezed her, as if he was testing the durability of her diminutive body.

"I am not a china doll," she informed him with a calmness that belied her inner turmoil. She stripped off his tie and hung it with the jacket.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she unbuttoned his shirt, and exposed his chest, freckled and bearing a sparse growth of curly auburn hair.

He stroked his thumbs up over the gentle mounds of her breasts, pressing them through the smooth, cool fabric of her blouse. Her nipples were palpable hard lumps under the cloth. As he tormented those delicate buds, he marveled at the slight woman that was undressing him.

She had interested him from the first time he had met her. When he had begun the banter out on the deck, he had had little hope that it would actually get him this far. Now that it had, he wondered about the house, and the woman he was fondling. She was right, the house was worth it. Now, he was about to find out if she was. Her petite, fineboned form in his strong hands excited him immensely.

Judy spread his shirt open, running her fingers through the almost kinky hair, brushing them over his nipples. Then she leaned forward and nibbled at his chest, her working lips finding and nuzzling one of his nipples. She ran her tongue around it, tasting his sweat. Suddenly she became conscious of his masculine cologne. A chill struck through her as the pleasant smell reminded her of the sour scent of Mark's decaying body.

Pulling away, Judy pushed the shirt back off Andrew McCarter's broad shoulders. As she did, he began unbuttoning her blouse. He paused a moment while she carefully hung his shirt up. Somehow, Judy knew she had to be meticulously careful with his clothes.

She found herself thinking about Mark. She was worried about him. He had been in a terrible state when she had left.

"Beautiful," Andrew McCarter commented, stripping Judy's blouse off her. As he dropped it, his eyes swept over Judy's graceful, slender torso, pausing on the tips of her breasts, the line of her collarbone, the flatness of her stomach.

Judy couldn't meet his eyes. She hung her head slightly as he studied her. She wasn't ashamed of her body, but she was ashamed of what she was doing with it. She suppressed a shiver.

She tried to ignore her regrets and reached for his belt. The silver buckle clinked musically when she unfastened it. She unzipped his slacks and the fly spread open. The thrust of his cock pushed his underpants out. His hands were on her again, stroking and petting her silken skin, making her whole body burn with lust.

She wondered if whores felt like this with their customers. She had heard that to them, a fuck was nothing more than just business. Didn't they get hot, burn with passion? Why should she be any better than a common prostitute, any different from a call girl? Because she was enjoying what she was doing!!!

She knelt and eased off Mr. McCarter's Gucci loafers, then tugged his pants down. After he had stepped out of them, she carefully shook them out as she stood up, then turned to drape them over the chair.

He took the opportunity to unfasten her skirt. It fell around her ankles and she was left in just her filmy panties.

By unspoken agreement, they faced each other as they reached for each other's last garment. Hands slipped inside underpants and panties, and they were pushed lower and lower and lower. Judy's dark pubic bush eased into view, as did McCarter's dark red one. His cock leaped free of his underpants, stabbing straight at Judy's flat, pulsing belly.

Then they were both nude, standing there inches apart. McCarter swept Judy up against him, feeling the soft, yielding warmth of her small body against his, feeling his cock slide upward along her belly. He lowered his mouth to hers for a demanding kiss.

Judy spread her graceful, slender thighs and clasped one of McCarter's big ones between them. She scrubbed her wiry bush along his leg, grinding her crotch against him. Her tongue met and dueled with his.

Then she was off her feet, being carried while the embrace and the kiss went on, their legs tangling at every step. They sank down together on the cool covers of the huge bed. Judy had a fleeting worry. What if they stained the covers? Shein would discover what they had done. He would be furious!

Then big hands were fondling and probing and touching her as she sprawled on her back on the bed, and lust made her forget everything else. There was no pretending to her lust. McCarter was quickly discovering all the erogenous zones on her passionate, responsive body – her breasts and belly, the insides of her thighs. And he wasn't gentle. He bruised her with his strength and size. He played with her the way a cat might play with a mouse, tumbling and punishing her on the big bed. And she loved it.

She was being driven mad by his attentions. He twisted her nipples one after the other and her breasts burst into flame. A hand pressed into her tender belly hard, and her body writhed in desperate, eager response, her fingers clawing blindly at the bed.