Days passed, and I saw nothing of the old man, or his track suited friend. My head was all over the place, and my pussy was constantly wet at the thought of what might happen next. The phone never did anything, though I kept it charged and on me at all times. I went right through it but it was blank apart from that one text that had been sent to me, and I couldn’t even work out what its number was. Every morning, I showered and shaved myself smooth, and dressed in stockings and summer dresses, just in case. I never wore any panties now, and I was getting used to the sticky feeling of going about my business with a puffy aroused cunt, as it never seemed to go away. Every morning my excitement heightened as I reached the station, but like I said, I never saw him. A couple of times, the press of the commuter crush got me so horny remembering what had happened, that I found myself rubbing up against any crotch that was close. Once I got lucky, and a silver-haired man in an expensive suit put his hand up my skirt and satisfied me with a rough fingering, making me come violently which caused a couple of people to stare. It was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate at the office. Whenever a client got a bit leery I’d find myself turned on when I had once been disgusted, although there was no way I could jeopardise my career. Sometimes I wanted to just lift my skirt and start playing with my juicy lips as they sat and gawped, but I never did this, although I would imagine it as I fingerfucked myself afterwards in the ladies. One evening, several weeks later, I had just got in the bath and was relaxing with a glass of wine, when I heard a buzzing noise. The phone, which was lying on the floor next to my clothes, had an icon on it indicating a text message. My heart raced as I opened it up: “CAMBRIDGE ARMS 8PM” I leapt out of the bath. It was seven thirty. I called a cab, and asked them for a car to the Cambridge Arms, which I had never heard of, but they had, although they seemed surprised that I would want to go there. I dressed in a knee-length pencil skirt and a white cotton blouse, with some very high heels. I didn’t want to look too much like a slut, just in case - I had no idea where I was going or what was going to happen, and half of me was terrified. But the other half was on fire with anticipation, and as I walked out to the cab, I could feel my juices trickling on my inner thigh. The driver got out and opened the nearside passenger door for me to get in. His eyes roamed across my chest and down to my legs as I stepped up, and he “helped” me in with his hand on my bum. I buckled myself in as he walked around and got back in, and he started the engine up. “The Cambridge?” He said, eyeing me in the mirror. “Yes” I replied, and as he pulled away, I shut my eyes - trying to pretend it wasn’t real, and blocking out the driver’s greedy glances which were getting me hornier by the moment. When I opened them again, I wasn’t sure where we were, but it looked like a pretty rough estate. We turned into a little deserted shopping square, and I saw the pub - it looked like a nasty old men’s boozer - thick nets in the windows, and a couple of builders leaning in the doorway smoking roll-ups. I paid the cabbie, and took his card so he could pick me up later, then walked across to the entrance. I ignored the builders, who whistled and eyed up my legs, and walked into the main bar. It was like something out of Life on Mars, nicotine-stained and threadbare, with a few clusters of men huddles around their pints at the bar. As I walked in, they all turned and stared, and as I reached the bar I could already hear smutty remarks concerning my breasts and my slutty shoes. The man behind the bar turned from the till to face me, and I saw it was Gary, the fat track suited man who’d come all over my peachy bum that night on the train, just before the old man had made my pussy squirt. He lifted up a flap in the bar and said “Come through”, and as I walked round to the lounge bar I heard him tell one of his punters I was there for an interview. The lounge bar was just as dated and worn-out as the rest of the pub - there were ripped up banquettes around the perimeter and a couple of rickety tables and chairs. I stood next to one of these, unsure of what to do next. Then I heard a familiar voice behind me. “Gary’s got a job for you”. I turned around - the old man was standing in front of the bar. I asked what the job was and he snapped at me “You haven’t got it yet slut! Take off your skirt.” I unzipped it and let it fall to the ground, exposing my red protruding clitoris and the glisten of arousal on my inner thighs. The old man walked over to me and turned me around, bending me over the table. He slapped my arse hard six times “He’s got a job for you if you’re a good girl, not if you answer back. Are you going to be a good girl?” I said “yes” and he immediately smacked me again. “Yes, SIR” he growled and I repeated after him. His hand rested a moment on my bum, then he drew it down to my inflamed cunt, feeling how engorged the lips were, and scooping the cream out of it with his fingers. I shuddered as his fingertips brushed briefly against my clit, then stiffened as I realised Gary was standing to the side of me, filming on his phone what the old man was doing to me. He had undone his trousers and his cock was pointing straight out. With his spare hand, he reached down and tried me for himself, spreading my wetness up and massaging my bum hole with the tip of his finger. The old man had moved round in front of me and was feeding his sopping fingers into my mouth, making me lick my own sex off his hand. Then his friend pushed his whole finger deep in my bum, and stroked slowly, in and out and around, till I could feel my muscles relax and his one finger became two. I was totally lost to the moment, and before I knew it, he whipped his hand away and poked his stubby purple dick right in my arse. I’d never done anal, I always thought it would really hurt, but my whole body was aching with arousal at this point, and it just felt dirty and horny to be getting used like this with a roomful of men just metres away. I could feel his balls swinging against my pussylips as he stroked his dick in and out, making filthy moaning noises and talking to the camera, saying how I was a filthy dirty bitch who loved it in her arse. The old man also had his dick out now, and was wanking it against my cheek as I gasped at the pounding I was getting. I saw precum leaking from the shiny head and tried to lick it but he pulled away, calling me a filthy bitch. My clitoris was rubbing against the bare wood of the table as Gary continued to fuck my arse, and I was building to the most almighty climax. Suddenly the old man signalled to his friend and they both stepped away from me, Gary still aiming the camera square between my legs. I was quivering and moaning, still trying to rub myself against the table, and the old man said “ Get off there and get on your knees.” I knelt, skirtless, in front of them, and the old man reached down and ripped open my blouse so my soft tits bobbed out. I automatically put my hand down to touch my aching cunt but he stopped me, and they took turns to rub their dirty cocks over my tits and face and fuck my mouth till they both emptied their loads all down the front of me, grunting like pigs and rubbing their muck around my nipples and over my face, getting it in my hair and all over my shirt. “Good girl” said the old man, as I licked the thick creamy spunk from around my mouth. “Does she get the job, Gary?” Gary nodded and said “Saturday. Seven.” and then he disappeared through a door marked “PRIVATE” with his phone in his hand. Having not been allowed to orgasm yet, I assumed the old man had more in store for me, but instead he did himself up and walked with his stick back through into the main bar. I called the cab company and tried to do my shirt up but two of the buttons had come off, and it stuck, transparent with cum, to my breasts. I looked about for something to wipe myself off with, but I couldn’t see anything.so I decided my best bet was to keep an eye out for the cab and leave through the side door. When it arrived, it was the same driver, and he surveyed my spunky wet ripped blouse and clearly erect nipples with a hungry look. Not knowing what else to do, I asked him to drive me to the station car park, where I straddled him and frantically rode his rock-hard cock while he sucked on my puffy, cream-covered tits, and I finally took my pleasure.