A new sensitivity

Krissi sat at the bar, looking over her shoulder to see Finn and Stacey at a table, apparently ignoring her. She ordered a coke from the bartender, then changed her mind.

"Rum and coke please."

She nervously sipped her rum and coke. She'd started to notice only a few minutes in, during which she'd been blessedly ignored by the other patrons, that her panties were creating a pleasant friction on her cock. A very pleasant friction. She tried to adjust her posture on the barstool to create some space, to stop the distracting sensation, but each shift only rubbed the silky fabric of Stacey's blue panties across her shaft or head or balls, eliciting electric jolts of pleasure.

To make matters worse, her cum craving was already coming back. Not full **** yet but each sip she took of her drink she thought of how much better it'd be to have warm, salty gooey jizz sliding down her throat.

She fought a quiet struggle to calm down, to stop herself from fidgeting, but it was a losing battle. Her cock hardened in her tight painted-on jeans until it formed a visible bulge (obscured, thankfully, while she was sitting). Her breathing picked up, her face flushed a little. Without realizing it she bit her lower lip, her enhanced, full, pink beestung lower lip. She caught a glimpse of a woman with an expression of cliche porn-star come-hither lust in the bar mirror and for a second didn't realize it was herself.

Oh my god, this is what they've done to me? And if I don't figure out something soon I'll cum in my pants just sitting here and squirming.

At that moment a man sat down next to her. She judged that he was reasonably handsome, probably - he was tall and fit at least - but of course Krissi wasn't used to judging men's attractiveness. She just desperately wanted cum, and with inevitable Pavlovian association, cock.

"Hey there, I'm Frank," the man said with a smile, "what's your name cutie?"

Krissi took a bracing sip of her rum and coke, "Chris," she said, some bit of stubbornness pushing her to it.

"Short for something? Kristina?"

She gave a non-committal nod, then tried to put him off. "Look, I'm just waiting here for a friend, not looking for conversation."

He looked her up and down, not hiding it. She tried to adjust herself to make her bulge less conspicuous and felt the pleasingly agonizing friction of her panties sliding across her cock. Images flashed through her mind. Stacey's lips and hands on her cock, the face of that woman in the mirror - her own face - looking up at her and deep-throating her rock-hard rod. Then the image shifted, her on her knees inhaling a huge cock, desperately bobbing and sucking to get that sweet, sweet burst of cum.

She repressed any outward sign of pleasure, but her knees felt weak in the face of the **** on her senses. This wasn't natural, she realized.

Damn Finn and Stacey, damn them to hell.

"You have a very lucky friend," Frank said.

It was a moment before Krissi absorbed his words. She didn't reply.

"Well while you wait, let me get you another drink, looks like you've finished yours." It was true, she'd absent-mindedly drained her whole rum-and-coke. She didn't feel much buzz through the lust sharply dominating her thoughts.

"Fine," she said churlishly, a little incredulous this man was still talking to her like she was being anything but incredibly rude. Then she looked in the mirror again, her lips slightly parted and giving an undeniable promise of depraved ecstasy, and sighed. Of course it makes sense.