(Sorry for the wait, ladies! I'm having computer problems, and I can't post on an adult forum from the library, you know?)<br/><br/><strong>Elven Sex Goddess:</strong><br/><br/>Fred's eyes go wide, shocked that you would ask him to do that - but apprehension is quick to leave him as he murmurs, "Well, I've already stuck my fingers inside you so often that I guess it shouldn't be<em>that</em>surprising. Okay. I'll do it."<br/><br/>He takes the can from you, and reaches out with the other; he clasps one side of your vagina and pulls it open, slowly, gently, and sets the can against it, the metal bottom cold against your lips. He hesitates for a second before glancing up at you, asking, "Can you hold the other side for me so I can fit it inside, please?"<br/><br/>Well, at least he's courteous, you think with no small amount of bitterness. You nod and bite your lower lip, afraid that even speaking might bring you to orgasm; with a tender hand, you stretch out the other side of your vagina, and Fred begins to ease the can in. You're already stretched from all of the other things inside you, so the can slides in easily enough - but Fred stops partway in, and you let loose a mental curse, the pending orgasm denied when it was so close. What the hell was he doing? You glance down at him, and you see that his brow has furrowed; he's thinking up<em>something</em>, and you're not entirely comfortable with what that something might entail.<br/><br/>"J-just hurry," you hiss, your voice tense. "Let's get it over with."<br/><br/>Fred shrugs, still not looking up at you; he tightens his grip on the can and begins easing it out of you.<br/><br/>For a moment, you think to yourself, what the hell is that idiot doing? But the answer comes soon enough as he slides the can back inward, then out, then in, pumping it rhythmically, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. Every time he pushes the can inward, it jostles the items you'd already put inside yourself, making matters even worse, and, and, this is it, you can't hold it in anymore -<br/><br/>Your entire body thrums and buzzes as you hit climax, and you let out a tight breath you hadn't known you'd been holding - and you, you squirt, it's embarrassing, and for a moment you're lost to the world.<br/><br/>When you come back to your senses - you notice that the front of Fred's apron is wet, and he's licking at his lips experimentally, as if - oh God, did you come on his<em>face</em>?<br/><br/>"I need to set lower standards for myself when it comes to being surprised," he admits. "You<em>would</em>come from all of this, wouldn't you? It, um - it tastes good, by the way. And I'm glad it's not pee."<br/><br/>"Me neither," You say, and your breath catches in your throat. "Now - push it in, finish it before Jack comes back."<br/><br/>The fact that you've climaxed in front of a complete stranger - squirted on him - is mortifying, but comes second to the irritation when you realize you're not finished yet. Fred obliges, sliding the can all the way in this time, releasing your vagina; you do the same, and your lips close around it, around everything you're holding inside you. You hoped Jack returned soon, because this was<em>intolerably </em>pleasurable.<br/><br/>Fred clambers up to his feet and says, "I guess that's it, huh? I'd, um - I'd better lead you along again. Over to the register. Just in case he comes back."<br/><br/>You shudder - your pussy still tingles, and you wish this didn't have to keep happening, but Fred has a point; no need to throw this all away over something that has become so trivial after all of this. So, when you raise no objections, Fred slides his fingers inside you again and walks over towards the registers. The registers which are still at the front of the store. Near the big windows. Where anybody could see inside.<br/><br/>Never got any easier, did it?<br/><br/>At last, Fred releases his hold on you as he goes around the counter to stand behind it; he begins working on it, continuing to open the store, when - suddenly - you hear a little chime go off to your right.<br/><br/>That same chime had sounded when you entered the store, and again when Jack left.<br/><br/>You gulp, and your heart begins to hammer in your chest; your back is to the door right now, so all anyone can see is your butt. Do you TURN AROUND to see if it's Jack, or do you MOVE TO THE COUNTER and hope to keep your pussy out of sight? And would moving to the counter be considered hiding? Jack had said that you weren't allowed to hide...<br/><br/><strong>CHLOE MILEV:</strong><br/><br/>You lean back on the bench, spreading your legs - might as well make this as easy as you could. The Professor moves in front of you, kneeling down on the paved path bordering the bench, getting down between your legs. He places one hand on the inside of your right thigh, and you shudder; to make things worse, he begins thumbing your clit, muttering something about "getting you more lubed up." You thought you were plenty wet enough, but whatever.<br/><br/>After about a minute of this, with your breath catching in your chest, the professor shifts positions; with one hand, he spreads the lips of your vagina wide open, planting the other against the end of the tests. He begins to push them in - he's not being gentle about it, but he's not being an absolute monster, either, as if this was just business as usual for him. You grip the arm rests of the bench, white-knuckling them, it's<em>unbearable</em>how good this feels, and you - you wish it would just be over with -<br/><br/>The tests fill you up again, and you glance down and realize that the professor has pushed them in as far as they had been before - and you figure that he's finished, good, let's just go and get this over with -<br/><br/>- and then the professor keeps pushing, and you drop a venomous curse. He doesn't flinch - doesn't stop even though you want him to, but it doesn't matter how full you feel to him, does it? He continues to push the tests in, in - oh God - until at last the very end vanishes inside you, and, and the pressure is crazy powerful, but you can't deny that it feels good, and at least this way - one blessing in disguise - the tests are less likely to slip out - oh,<em>God</em>.<br/><br/>The professor stands up, satisfied, and beckons for you; gasping, you struggle up to your feet, and this feels so<em>weird</em>, and you just want to, to end this day, to be done with it. You fall into step beside him, the papers shifting inside you with each stride, but you don't feel them sliding out, which you suppose is a good thing.<br/><br/>At last - at last, a few minutes later, you approach a six-story building, big and brown and unimpressive - save for an elevator set into one wall with a glass front overlooking the campus. Seeing that fills you with dread, and you can already tell what the professor might ask of you next as you pass through the doors that lead inside the building itself.<br/><br/>"My office is on the top floor," the professor says (you sort of saw that coming), straightening his tie. "I personally like taking the stairs - it's good cardio. But if you'd prefer, we can take the elevator."<br/><br/>Typical, right? You can TAKE THE ELEVATOR, but you're guaranteed to be seen if you do, and you have no idea what other embarrassing tasks the professor would have you do while in plain sight. Or you could TAKE THE STAIRS, all six flights of them, with the tests pressing against your vaginal walls, where you're less likely to be seen...