Juicy Lucy 2

The moment Lucy walked into the bar, she could feel herself getting wet. It wasn't something she could describe or even explain; she simply crossed the threshold of the gang's favorite watering hole, the familiar sound of raucous conversation washing over her alongside the scent of cooking food and poured beer, and her pussy began to slicken and throb with intense, overwhelming arousal. It came on so strongly and suddenly that for a second, Lucy didn't think she was going to be able to stop herself from masturbating; her fingers twitched toward her sopping cunt almost before she had a chance to think about what she was doing, and it was only with a profound effort of will that the dark-haired young woman managed to still them.

Naturally, her friends all noticed--well, how could they not? Lucy's bright, bubbly conversation halted in mid-sentence with a sudden grunt of surprise as she just barely caught herself mid-stumble, her normally soulful brown eyes glazing over into glassy vacancy as her chubby pink cheeks slackened into expressionless emptiness. "You alright, Lu?" Jenna asked, apparently mistaking Lucy's sudden and inexplicable arousal for some kind of a dizzy spell. "You look a little flushed all of a sudden. Come on, we'll get you a glass of water and maybe a little bite to eat before you get down to any serious drinking." She took one of Lucy's arms, Kendall took the other, and together the two of them helped Lucy over to their usual table while Blake and Dana looked on with every sign of solicitous interest.

Their closeness only made Lucy even more squirmily uncomfortable, though. Lucy wasn't the type to have crushes on her platonic friends; she'd gone through all that messy and uncomfortable drama back in her college years, and now that she was in her thirties the stable friendships that had survived were steady and calm and predictable. But her body didn't know that. Her body was absolutely feverish with lust, to the point where she kept having to remind herself that it wouldn't be a good idea to shimmy out of her skirt and panties right there in the middle of the bar, and Lucy couldn't help associating that arousal with the man on her left and the woman on her right.

Sitting down didn't help matters, either; Lucy's mind soon settled into a dazed and vacant distraction that made it impossible to concentrate on anything but the pulsing throb of desire between her legs. She heard Dana ask her, "Lu, are you sure you're okay? Is there anything we can do for you?" But she couldn't seem to respond with anything other than a meaningless grunt of vague affirmation while her glassy stare drifted from one attractive stranger to another and she found herself imagining each and every one of them using her dripping cunt.

And it was legitimately dripping now. That wasn't some poetic and faintly pornographic exaggeration, either--Lucy could literally feel the musk saturating the fabric of her oh-so-sensible white cotton panties, soaking them until she had to imagine the scent of pussy was getting so strong that one of her friends was bound to notice. She couldn't even remember getting turned on this badly before, much less in a public place surrounded by strangers, and Lucy couldn't help feeling like everyone was starting to stare at her. Like they knew how horny she was, and they were just waiting for her to give up on whatever faint veneer of self-control she still possessed and begin openly masturbating right there in front of the whole bar.

Which was... well, it was nonsense. Lucy knew it was nonsense, just like she knew all the other perverse and twisted sexual fantasies popping into her head were nonsense, and yet she couldn't seem to control her overheated daydreams any more than she could control the wet, hot throbbing between her legs. When Blake got back to the table with a water for Lucy and a round of beers for everybody else, she imagined him placing the glass to her lips and slowly, sensuously pouring the water down her throat while the others tenderly petted her arms and shoulders in a display of platonic affection that rapidly dissolved into open lust. It was all she could do to shake herself out of the erotic spell long enough to hydrate herself in a long, guzzling swallow that emptied out the glass in one gulp.

The cool water helped a little, but Lucy still felt disconcertingly warm and the constant impulse to cool herself off by disrobing kept simmering away in the back of her head. Jenna got her another glass when she went up to the bar to put in an order of appetizers, which was a good thing because Lucy was losing fluids from her leaky cunt at a frankly alarming rate. She felt like if she stood up the others would see a wet spot on the back of her skirt where her dripping pussy had overflowed her messy panties and trickled down onto her chair, and the inexplicably horny and distracted portion of her brain that was taking increasing control of her thoughts and perceptions kept trying to convince Lucy that if anyone knew how turned on she was, they'd bend her over a chair and start using her wet cunt right there in front of the whole bar. And that notion mortified her even more than it aroused her.

Thankfully, the others didn't seem to notice too much. Oh, Lucy felt their concerned stares on her from time to time, just a glance here and there they thought she didn't notice and she kept mistaking for a sneaking appraisal of whether she'd gotten horny enough yet to lose her remaining inhibitions, but they relaxed soon enough into their usual chatter. Lucy missed it pretty much entirely, caught up instead in filthy daydreams of walking up to one of the strangers at the bar and asking him if he really had the horse cock it looked like he was packing under his trousers, but their voices sounded reassuringly normal in her ears and she felt herself relax a little.

And then a little more, and then a little more beyond that, and before she knew it Lucy was staring off into space with a dopey grin on her face and a squishy feeling between her legs as she squeezed her thighs together in a rhythm that rubbed her clit against her inner labia over and over and over again. She felt herself growing stupid with lust, the kind of dumb and giggly feeling she more usually associated with getting profoundly stoned. For a loose and muzzy moment, Lucy found herself wondering if one of her friends hadn't maybe dosed her with something without telling her, but she dismissed the thought almost immediately. They wouldn't do that. They were her friends. They were Lucy's friends and she trusted them implicitly.

Her worries relieved, Lucy tried to lever herself out of her erotic reverie and pay attention to the group's conversation again, but she found to her surprise and delight that it was simply too hard. Her pussy was too wet, too slick and throbbing and needy, and it was all she could do to keep her hands firmly planted on the table in front of her so she didn't jam them down her skirt and begin masturbating right in front of everybody. The conversation flowed around her in a burble of meaningless noise, warm and familiar but utterly purposeless in Lucy's ears, and she gave in and allowed herself to drift fully into the daydreams that kept tugging on her befuddled mind. It was okay. Her friends would understand. They were used to--

The casual ease with which that thought slipped into and almost straight through Lucy's mind gave her a moment's pause. Why would her friends be used to her staring vacantly off into the distance in a trance of pure, thoughtless lust while they talked over and around her? She wasn't even used to feeling this stupid fucking horny in public, so why would her friends think of it as a normal, everyday occurrence? It felt like such an odd and incongruous thought that Lucy found herself clinging to it, even as the rest of her consciousness was swamped ever more completely in a turbulent ocean of arousal. It seemed strangely important to force herself to think about it. Almost as if it was the key to solving a mystery she didn't even know existed. She, she just needed to stay focused on it and--

"Lu?" Kendall interrupted, shock and surprise dripping from every syllable as he broke into her train of thought and sent it crumbling into confusion. "You, uh, your hands are...." He nodded at her lap, and Lucy realized with a rush of mortified dismay that she'd completely lost track of what her body was doing while her mind tried to puzzle out... puzzle out whatever it was she was thinking about a few seconds ago. And while she was distracted with something stupid and pointless and probably completely irrelevant to her current predicament, she'd pulled up her skirt and started masturbating right there in the bar. In front of everybody.

And just as she feared, everybody noticed. All over the bar, heads were slowly turning to face her as the increasingly lewd display of Lucy's uncontrollable masturbation drew more and more attention. She couldn't help noticing that many of the patrons had expressions of eager anticipation, as though they were trying and failing to conceal their excitement at the show Lucy was putting on for them, and the few people that did look genuinely shocked were quickly hushed by a few whispers from the regulars. It seemed... it felt.... Lucy turned to look at her friends, but they had nothing but sincere concern written on their faces. Lucy's suspicions, never especially coherent, collapsed into meek and submissive self-doubt.

What was she possibly trying to imagine, anyway? That her friends had somehow hypnotized her into falling victim to some kind of haze of thoughtless desire every time she set foot in their favorite bar? That they'd convinced all the regulars to participate in her weekly degradation, voyeuristically enjoying the sight of her brain struggling and failing to break free of the suggestions that made her too weak and horny to keep her hands away from her sopping cunt? That they... they used each and every one of her slutty holes, gangbanging her over and over, smoothing away her memories of each night of debauchery until she was... ohh, fuck, too weak, too weak and defeated to ever resist them....

It sounded absurd. It sounded exactly like the silly, sexy daydreams she'd been having all night while she stared vacantly into the distance and rubbed her thighs together in helpless bliss. It sounded impossible even if it was actually happening to her right now, and Lucy was happy to smile wider and wider until her thoughts tumbled down a rabbit hole into mindless acceptance and she instinctively assumed herself to be daydreaming when Kendall pulled open her blouse to expose her pert breasts to the crowd.

Everything turned into a daydream after that, and that suited Lucy just fine. Daydreams were always fun and sexy, whether they were daydreams of Dana and Jenna suckling at her nipples while the stranger at the bar plowed Lucy's cunt with that horse cock of his or of Kendall, Blake, and a whole host of strangers taking turns using her mouth while a woman she didn't recognize lubed up her asshole with spit. Daydreams were happy, daydreams were hot, and most of all daydreams were forgettable--Lucy knew she'd forget each and every one of these fantasies the moment she left the bar, and that was okay because her friends would keep those memories safe for her and she could trust them implicitly. Lucy loved being a trusting girl for them.

She felt herself cumming again, around cocks and fingers and tongues and improvised toys that left her wrung out and exhausted with pleasure, and it wasn't until almost one o'clock in the morning that Lucy's friends carried her semi-conscious body out to their car along with her ruined outfit. Even then, though, Lucy knew the dream wasn't quite over yet. Her kind and solicitous friends needed to get her home... and once she was back in her own warm bed, Lucy knew without being told that she would find all sorts of ways to show her gratitude to them for taking such good care of her.

THE END