Some hear, but no one approaches yet, and the boys hands protectively cover your girly bits

Several heads seem to look your way, although it could just be your imagination. You're too mortified and confused by the loss of your clothes to really check, and instead try to curl into a ball. With your limbs tangled with theirs you can't cover anything!

"Hey, don't worry. Here, we'll make sure no one sees anything," they assure you, and you feel two hands snake over your shoulders, rough palms rasping across your tender little titties until each breast is covered by a hand.

If truth be told, they cover you more than your top did, but having a stranger holding your breasts in a public movie theatre when your boyfriend could walk in at any moment is... hot!

You blink, realizing that it's not just fear making your heart race and breath pant, it's arousal at the chance of Jacob coming in on this scene.

Jacob has been such a mystery to you. On the one hand, it's such an amazing thing that he's going out with you - you! A girl from the wrong side of the tracks with piss-poor parents, and the rich handsome son of the mayor is going out with you! All those people who voted you most likely to be a porn star would be dying with envy now.

But still, even though you're dating him it somehow doesn't feel like you've really caught his interest. You keep trying, catering to his every whim, making his every fanatay come to life, but maybe it takes more. Maybe if he were made jealous.

You don't want him to actually catch you with boys, but would it hurt if he suspected? If he came in on a suspicious situation and wondered? Surely he'd feel the flames of jealousy surge up and start to take care of you better...

Unless, you wavered, unless he dropped you.

You slink a little lower as you think, not even noticing that the boys have slipped one hand in front of your pussy and another down your crack. The fingers rhythmically press just a little at your clit and rosebud in a seemingly harmless way, though the way the palm presses against your bladder makes you squirm unconsciously, adding to the arousing effects of the finger on your clit.

"Here Jenny, finish your drink," they boys say. Deep in thought, you'd forgotten about them, and gasp at the feeling of a cup pressing against your lip. Your mouth automatically opens, not wanting to create another spill like before, and you find yourself gulping down the jumbo-sized coke, desperately swallowing again and again, your mouth filling more each time.

"C'mon, chug it. It's like getting throatfucked. You've done that lots, right?" they ask, making you want to cringe. But you have done that before, and with the throwing of a mental switch your throat seems to open like a drain, allowing the liquid to surge down into your distending gut.

Combined with the previous drinks you'd swallowed your stomach feels like an inflating balloon, the liquids all making a mad dash to your bladder while the sugar sets you abuzz with shivering energy.

An enormous burp pours out of your throat, mortifying you more than the hands on your body somehow. A second follows, with a daintier third. Now you're certain there must be eyes on you from the other theatre goers, and try to sink farther into your seat. All this does is make the fingers on your clit and rosebud press harder as they move in swirly motions.

The finger on your clit switches to your piss-chute while you burp, and you feel the enormous pressure of your bladder trying to surge outward.

"G... gotta... go," you manage to stammer, embarrassed horribly by the admission, needing the washroom desperately now that you've had upwards of two or more litres of soda in such a short period of time.