As the last of the come drains from you, you tell Jack that you're done; the thought of potentially getting pregnant from his encounter is surprisingly arousing, but you will have to put some serious thought into whether or not you want to let that happen. You ease yourself away from him, and with a despondent sigh, Jack withdraws from your vagina, his arms coated in your juices and his spunk, slick and shimmering in the morning sun. You feel the emptiness in your gaping pussy, where his forearms had just been, and sigh; it's a relief, but at the same time, you'd been building yourself up to another orgasm. Even though you're the one who wanted Jack to stop, you feel a little put out, yearning for more.<br/><br/>Jack reaches for the keychain hanging from a belt loop on his pants and unclips it; walking around to the back of the car, he slides the key in the trunk and opens it, pulling out a white towel. He uses it to wipe off his arms before passing it to you, so you can dry yourself off as well. As you do, you rub the towel over your aching, tingling pussy lips...once, twice, three times, making sure to scrub off your legs between each pass to hide the fact that you<em>really</em>want to get yourself off again. You give back Jack's towel, and he tosses it into the trunk before slamming it closed.<br/><br/>He approaches you and wordlessly slides three of his fingers inside you once again. They go in easily enough, not like it's a surprise; this morning has been one humiliating sexual encounter after another, and after Jack had both of his arms buried up to the elbows in your pussy, a few fingers was small change. He leads you around to the other side of the car and opens the door for you - if he wasn't leading you around by your pussy, you'd dare say that he was acting gentlemanly - and you sit down, the leather upholstry warm on your bare ass and legs.<br/><br/>Even though you'd done a fantastic job (in your opinion) of adapting to this sudden, mortifying lifestyle, you only really felt comfortable around Jack. You realize how lucky you were that no cars came by in the past few minutes, and you know, with a sinking sensation in your stomach, that there is more public exposure in your future. You still have to get that skirt, and you doubt Jack will let you sit in the car and do the shopping for you.<br/><br/>Jack walks around to the drivers' side of the car and clambers in; you can't help but stare at his crotch, knowing that there was a fat, juicy cock tucked away inside those pants, and it sets you on fire all over again. Your hand drifts down between your legs...there was no doubt about it, you had to get yourself off<em>right now</em>, but the desire to fondle Jack's junk was gnawing at you like a starving rat. You could also reach into Jack's pants and<strong>play with his balls</strong>(so round and succulent, you only managed to get your hand around them briefly before), or you could<strong>leave him alone</strong>.