This can be read as a standalone, but I would recommend reading Part 1 first x
*****
Dinner was a tense affair. For me anyway. I was equally exhausted as I was on fire. Every breath sent my chest rising and falling, my nipples rubbing against the soft fabric of my blouse through my lacey bra, and although the fabric was light my sore nipples could barely handle the continued rubbing. Under the table my thighs were trembling slightly, my tight jeans pressing up against my clit, a constant pressure that reminded me of everything that had happened that afternoon. Your hand was a steady weight on my knee, your fingers massaging my leg at intervals, feeling the trembles run up and down my body. Your friend sat opposite me. His gaze heavy, I could rarely bring my eyes up to meet his, as I sat in the corner of the booth, trapped my both of you.
I hadn't noticed the waiter appear at our table until he called for our orders. I look up startled. The menu lay open in my hands, but I hadn't been able to make sense of the words floating in front of my eyes.
"Uh.." I stammer.
Before I have a chance to pick something at random, I hear you order for me, before plucking the menu from my hands. Your friend smiled knowingly. To outsiders it would look like a romantic gesture...a guy knowing his girl's favourite dish on the menu. But I knew the real reason. It was just another way you controlled me this evening, choosing my drink, food, and the film we were to see later. Taking all opportunity to think for myself away from me. A fucktoy doesn't need to think. She needs to sit, do as she's told and wait until she's needed again.
The two of you chat and laugh the evening away. For the most part I'm just trying to keep up with the words, but after a while your delicate touches on my neck, tucking my hair away from my face and your arm around my shoulder encourages me to join in. Soon we are all laughing and joking as our food arrives. Your pick for me was perfect, of course. And as I take my first bite I realise how ravenous I am, my body utterly spent.
When the waiter finally clears the plates, we sit in a comfortable silence for a while until you reach in and pull something from your pocket. Right in the centre of the table, a stark contrast to the dark wood, you place a bright pink vibrating egg. I know immediately what it is, having had fun with it and you many times before. My eyes widen as a table of people walk by, their eyes naturally scanning our group. My hand shoots out like lightening to grab the item from the table. My cheeks reddening at the thought that any of them had seen it.
You chuckle at my clear distress and lean in slightly. "You look beautiful tonight," you said as you cup my cheek in your hand, "as always, but," you glance down at the object held tight in my fist.
"But," Your friend cuts in. "We think your outfit is missing something."
"Go and put it in for us baby," you say gently.
"Now?!" I barely manage to keep my voice from squealing.
Your hand moves to grip the back of my neck, your fingers curling tighter. "Now." Your tone brokers no room for discussion.
I look down at the offending item in my hand. My clit twitches at the thought of new vibrations, but my body floods with uncertainty. I don't think I could handle any more. My cunt, still moist and sticky with the mix of my juices and your cum, aches. But the longer I stare at the little pink egg, the more those aches of tiredness ripple into aches of want.
You slide from the booth and stand, offering your hand to help me up. I slide out too, keeping my fist tight against my thigh to hide the brightly coloured object held there. As I step away your hand connects sharply with my ass, taking a handful of jeans covered flesh and squeezing. My eyes scan the room and I notice a few people look up at the sound that resonates above the level of conversation. My cheeks flush pink again, as with another slap, you send me towards the Ladies room.
As I weave between tables I can feel your and your friend's eyes on me, and as my hair swishes across my back with every stride I can only imagine the scent of sex I am leaving in my wake, the strings of dried cum across my body pulling slightly with each step. I hurry to the safety of the bathroom, locking myself in the last stall. With shaking hands I undo the button of my jeans and lower the zip before sliding them down over my hips and ass. I run my fingers along my folds, feeling the wetness that has begun to return. I jump as my hand accidentally brushes across my oversensitive clit. Catching my breath I push one, then another, finger inside me, readying myself, before replacing my fingers with the little pink egg. I feel my body stretch around it, it offering a gently pressure inside me. I wiggle my hips to get used to the feeling as I know it won't be going anywhere for at least the next few hours.
I replace my clothing and make my way back to the two of you. Your friend, sitting facing my direction, motions to you when he sees me come back onto the restaurant floor. You look round too, and I feel myself stumble slightly as out of nowhere a pulse of vibrations shoot through my body. My hand lands on a man's shoulder as I try to steady myself. As I stutter through my apologies the egg buzzes again. I rush back to the table to find the pair of you barely containing your amusement.
Stifling another the laugh you get up. Before I can slide back into the booth you stop me. "Bill is paid. Lets go."
I thank you for dinner and together the three of us leave. No doubt being watched by most of the restaurant patrons, our waiter giving me a leerful smirk as we pass him. Back on the street I gulp in deep breaths of fresh air as you wrap one arm around my waist and pull me close. Throughout this time both of you have kept at least one hand hidden from me. Either under the table or buried in your pocket and it's the same now. It means I have no idea who is controlling the remote for the egg buzzing away inside me.
We walk in silence down the street to the cinema, the posters for the newest superhero flick plastered on every wall. The only thing to break the rhythm of our steps is my occasional gasp as one of you activates the vibrator in my pussy. I flick my head left and right, reading your faces in an attempt to work out who holds the key to my current torment, but you wear equally knowing smirks, your eyes both alight with lust, power and mischief...a lethal combination.
We break apart when we get to the cinema. Your friend joining the queue for tickets whilst we stand to the side. My breath catches again as another pulse of vibrations runs through me. I hold my breath waiting for it to stop but it doesn't. My eyes find your friend's, his gaze burning hot as he watches me tremble and spasm. I turn to you. Hoping to find purchase in your gaze, to find an anchor, but your eyes refuse to meet mine. Instead, with an inch of space between us, you slide your hand between my legs, cupping the junction where my legs meet. You feel the vibrations through my jeans and rock your hand slightly. Usually I would step back or push you away for doing such a thing with so many people around, but the friction against my clit feels so good. I reach up, my hand grasping your shoulder, my forehead pressing against your collarbone. I am biting my lip to the point that it will bleed in attempt to stay quiet as my orgasm builds, my cunt so sensitive that the barrier of my jeans is not enough to slow down my climax. My hips roll, but I'm too close to care that I am essentially humping your hand in the middle of a cinema foyer. Just as I'm about to tumble over the edge the vibrations suddenly stop and your hand is ripped away from my body.
I let out the breath I had been holding through gritted teeth. I had been so close. I relax against you, pressing my body against yours. I hear your friend approach, and feel him card his fingers through my hair.
"A performance like that almost makes me want to skip the film." he says. I look up hopeful. "But I've bought the tickets now, so come along." He uses the tickets to wave me to follow. I pull myself away from you and fall into step behind him, hearing you keeping pace behind me.
I have already figured that the pair of you plan to keep me squirming through the entire film, and picture us hidden away in the corner of the back row, so when he leads us to the very centre of the middle row my heart begins to beat a little faster. Its a late showing so I know the screen won't be particularly full but we will still be surrounded on both sides.