Put her phone in her pussy

“Is this yours?”

“Yes!” Tina exclaims. “Oh, thank God! At least with that I can still pay for a ride home. And my name and number were on a tag sewn into my costume.”

You rub her shoulders to comfort her, not sure if the pass will let her interpret it as comfort or ignore it as sexual since her shoulders are bare. “I’m a VIP,” you explain to her, “so I’ll make sure it gets back to you.” You have no idea how being a VIP would have anything to do with the costume, but it gives what you say an air of authority. She stops sniffling.

“I guess I’ll just have to wait for someone to call the number on my clothes,” she says. “But without any pockets, I’ll have to hold my phone the entire time, and I might drop it or leave it accidentally. I can’t misplace it!”

“I have an idea,” you tell her. “Is it waterproof?” She nods, so you pull the phone from her hand, then you slowly but firmly slide it up inside of her vagina. Any other day this probably would not have been physically possible, but it’s a small phone, and she’s had more than one dick inside of her pussy at once (possibly four, somehow?) only a short time ago. It will certainly recover after a couple hours, but for now she doesn’t even show any discomfort. She looks at you, nonplussed.

“Now you just need to put one hand down while you walk to keep your pussy closed around it!” you tell her. “And when you sit down there’s no danger you’ll leave it behind. Try it!”

“I guess that makes— woah!” she stops, and you can hear a soft buzzing from her groin. “Holy fuck, HOLY fuck!”

Allison looks concerned. “Is everything okay?”

“Well, yes and no,” she replies. Her eyebrows shoot up and she’s wide-eyed for a moment. “Because– holy SHIT!– this thing is RIGHT on my– FUCK!– on my SPOT!” she is able to get out. “But also, that’s– fucking SHIT!– that’s my alarm for– SHIT-SHIT-SHIT– for the next panel I wanted to get to!”

She pushes past the two of you and starts speed-walking, one hand gently pushing through the crowd, the other holding her pussy firmly. You can still hear her voice fading as she walks off, punctuated by loud yells, “Excuse me, excuse me, I– OHMIGOD!– can I get through? Thank you, OH! Don’t mind me, I’m fine. Fuck, fuck, FUCK! Yeah, I’m just coming through! Coming through here– OH FUCKING CHRIST, I’M CUMMING!” Then she’s too quiet to hear above the buzz of the crowd.

“I certainly hope she gets there on time,” Allison says.

“And I certainly hope she gets there safely,” you reply. Wouldn’t it be faster for her to take a moment to squeeze the phone out if it’s causing that much impact? Oh well, not your problem.

“Now,” says Allison. “Who the hell are you?”