Simon Jillson - Driven To Depravity

She lowered herself on Sam's big, hard cock and drove it up into her dripping vagina while Cindy and Dick watched. Then, while she fucked herself down on Sam, Judy watched Cindy fucking Dick. Cindy's breasts quivered and shook. She lifted and Dick's cock slid into view, wet and shining – then lowered herself and Dick's cock vanished between her spread labia.

Watching Cindy and Dick increased Judy's excitement. She pumped up and down on Sam's phallus, feeling it piston in her tight, youthful, almost virginal pussy. The fact that Cindy was watching her made Judy's excitement greater, made her move faster, made her hips rock and roll wildly. She reached down and fingered her own clitoris while she pumped up and down on Sam's prick.

"Oh man," Cindy sighed. "Oh man, am I going to cum. Oh shit, am I going to Cum, CUM, CUM!"

Dick's hips heaved upward and slammed his cock into Cindy's spasming pussy. The blonde girl hung quivering on the skewer in her guts and a wave of thick goo oozed from the joint between their two sexes and smeared into Dick's pubic hair.

Sam was ramming his cock up into Judy as she lifted and dropped on him.

She kept her eyes on the two straining interlocked bodies in front of her, until her own flaming orgasm engulfed her and she was trembling in the grip of her cumming.

Judy shook her head. She carefully freed herself from Mark's embrace and slipped into the bathroom. Closing the door, she turned on the light, leaned on the sink, and stared blindly at her reflection in the mirror. The rest of that long-ago night with Sam and Dick and Cindy was a kaleidoscopic jumble of sex, and more sex, with Sam and with Dick indiscriminately. They had traded partners all night in a wanton orgy.

Youthful endurance had made all things possible for them. They had watched each other making love, and thrilled to being watched. The huge tumbling mat for their bed, they had had a boundless, unrestrained night of sex. It was a wild night of experimentation as they had all tried to out-perform each other.

Judy wondered – was that the way she really was? Was she, deep down, just an animal?

She couldn't be. That night had been a fluke, an accident, youthful experimentation, nothing more. It no more made her a nymphomaniac than one single marijuana cigarette made her a dope addict.

But, if that was true, why had she so enjoyed herself with the Sheins and with Andrew McCarter? Maybe she was just a wanton slut. Because, she was, after all, looking forward to an encounter with someone. The sale wasn't final yet. Maybe there was more to come. She hoped there wasn't, for the sake of her sanity. But, at the same time, she hoped there was.

After taking two aspirin, Judy slipped back in bed beside her husband, and tried, unsuccessfully, to sleep.

Judy was fiddling aimlessly with leftover paperwork. The first thing she had done when she had gotten to the office was check for the listing agreement. Her knees had begun shaking when she discovered that she had not locked her desk after all. But the Shein listing agreement was still safely hidden where she had left it.

Now she could only wait. She used the time to get caught up on her paperwork. Because interest rates were sky high, the real estate business was in a slump. Most people who wanted to buy couldn't get the loans they needed. And very few people wanted to sell. Anyone who could was grimly hanging on to what he had.

Which was what had driven Judy to take the desperate steps she had with Steven Shein. Now the die was cast. All she could do was wait. Mark's time on the kidney machine was drawing closer and closer to an end, making the waiting all the more difficult.

Judy jumped when the telephone rang, then grabbed it before the one other agent that was in could answer it.

"Mrs. Penncroft, this is Andrew McCarter," the voice on the other end said.

"Yes, sir," Judy responded, acutely conscious that the other salesman was listening to everything she said. "How are you today?"

"Fine, thanks."

"What can I do for you?" Judy asked, trying to make it sound like an ordinary inquiry.

"Mrs. Penneroft, we seem to have a problem" Mr. McCarter answered.

Judy's heart sank. "Oh?" she asked, trying to keep her fear from showing on either her face or in her voice.

"I've had a bit of a problem with the bank," McCarter continued. "They don't want to give me a mortgage."

"Why not?" Judy asked. She saw the other salesman eyeing her curiously, which made her even more cautious. She was searching for phrases and sentences that would give nothing away about the sale.

"They won't say, exactly."

"It's not you, is it?" Judy asked fearfully.

"No, definitely not," McCarter assured her "My credit is A-one. No, that's not the problem."

"Too expensive?" Judy pried.

"No. If they'd give me the mortgage they'd only want eight per cent.

That's a bargain these days."

"Then I don't understand."

"They just don't seem to want to release the money," McCarter continued.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"I told them that. How can they make money if they don't loan out money is my philosophy. They gave me a runaround about not wanting to put that much money into one project. They also made some comment about being able to get a better return on short-term paper, rather than a thirty-year mortgage. I think they are trying to pull a stall, on the theory that the ceiling on interest rates is going to be raised again."

"That makes sense," Judy agreed.

"The man who is the problem is Milton Caldwell," McCarter went on.

"Why tell me?" Judy asked. She was relieved to note that her colleague in the office had gone back to his paperwork, but knew he still might be listening.

"I think there is a solution to the log-jam," McCarter explained. "I think that if you were to go and see Mr. Caldwell, you could change his mind."

"Huh?" Judy asked suspiciously.

"I think that this is a situation where your – ah – unique sales approach could tip the balance in our favor."

"But…"

"Mrs. Penncroft, if I don't get the mortgage, the entire deal is off,"

McCarter pointed out coolly. "If that should happen, where would that leave you – and your husband?"

Judy felt sick. She didn't want to do this – she didn't!

"Now, I really want to buy that house. And Shein definitely wants to sell. But there is nothing I can do to get that mortgage, and there is a great deal you can do."

"Yes," Judy agreed softly, reluctantly, a sour knot forming in her stomach. Tangled in with that knot of dismay were tight, gleaming threads of excitement.

"Caldwell is the man's name – Milton Caldwell. He's vice president in charge of something – notes I think it is."

"I know him a bit," Judy admitted. She had spoken with him on the telephone a couple of times and remembered his thin voice and precise phrasing.

"If anyone can change his mind, you can, Mrs. Penncroft," McCarter told her.

"Thank you," Judy replied, squeezing the words out of her constricted throat.

"I'll be looking forward to a call from Mr. Caldwell. Good-bye, Mrs.

Penncroft."

"Good-bye," Judy said softly, then hung up.

"What was that all about?" the other agent asked. "Trouble?"

Judy tried to hide her shaking by shuffling papers. She didn't trust her voice, and said nothing.

"Something to do with Mark?" the man pried.

Judy clutched at that innocent explanation. "Yes, something to do with Mark," she answered. It wasn't really a lie, was it?

She knew what she had to do. She felt horror clutch at her as she contemplated the situation. The real horror was not that she was faced with whoring again. The true horror was the sick, vile, disgusting, perverted excitement she felt at the prospect. What was she becoming?