Photographed by my Friend: Pt. 02

No. For lots of good, sensible reasons.

I couldn't.

I *couldn't*.

Bert leaned over, his bare legs touching mine. His hand was leaning on his leg; his fingers casually brushed against my hand.

"Psst," he whispered. There was no one close enough to hear us, but he leaned in close anyway. "Want a drink? I snuck a little whiskey in."

I glanced down, trying desperately to look anywhere but the front of his cargo shorts. Trying not to look at what I'd just inadvertently seen a picture of. In his hand there were two small bottles, the kind you'd find in a mini-bar. He pressed one into my hand, and took a swig of the other.

I knew it was a bad idea to drink in my already-aroused, tipsy state, but I felt like only alcohol could make me forget that image. Taking the whiskey, I downed it as fast as I could - I don't like the taste of hard liquor, and a sour look appeared on my face as I fought the unpleasant aftertaste.

"Okay," I gagged. "...that was awful."

"Shhh," Bert whispered, his eyes fixed to the screen as the new Marvel trailer played. As if to silence me, his hand moved to my knee and squeezed it once.

"You gonna shush me all night?" I whispered playfully. "You know that I love talking during movies."

"Shh," Bert repeated, throwing me a grin and squeezing my knee once more. His hand didn't leave my leg - it sat there, almost possessively. Like he owned me.

Like I was his.

We were sitting in public, me barely clothed, Bert's hand openly resting on my leg. My mind flashed back to outside the cinema, Bert holding my arms above my head while everyone watched.

"Men and their superhero movies..." I muttered, rolling my eyes. Men and their-as I glanced at Bert's firm hand grasping my fragile leg, the image of that same hand around his cock flashed into my eyes for a split second - dicks.

Bert's dick.

As the trailers rolled on, Bert's hand never left my leg.

I raised my eyebrows as the movie began. I'd let Bert do all the planning for our date; I'd been so distracted, I'd never even asked what film we were going to see.

"Dark Lenses?" I whispered as the title came up. "Bert, is this a film about taking photos?"

"It seemed appropriate," he said with a grin.

The movie began. It was a horror film about a cursed camera slowly destroying the life of its owner. At the first jump scare, Bert's hand gripped my leg, then relaxed.

"Wow," I teased. "And I thought I was the scaredy-cat."

"Shhh," he said again. One of his fingers casually started stroking the side of my knee. When I glanced over, he seemed to be wholly focused on the film. He must have been doing it without noticing.

I returned my attention to the film. The main character was taking some holiday snaps with the old, dusty camera he'd found at the creepy curio stall.

*Click, click, click, click.*

The sound made me feel strangely light-headed, and it took me a moment to remember what was bothering me.

"Ummm...you know that's not your leg, right?" I whispered.

"Shhh," Bert replied, clearly not listening. His hand moved up my leg slightly. Before I could say anything, he jumped again at the film.

"She was in *Game of Thrones*," he whispered, pointing at the screen with his other hand, clearly trying to cover his embarrassment over being so scared by the film.

"Oh, so you've seen her naked too?" I joke, trying to alleviate the tension. Bert grabbing my leg was making me uncomfortable.

Uncomfortably turned on.

"Haha, yeah. Me and the rest of the internet."

The whole internet had seen her naked.

The thought made me swoon.

His finger resumed stroking - no longer my knee, it moved to the inside of my thigh. He started tracing patterns, something I'd seen his lithe fingers do a thousand times before. It was just what his hands did when they were resting. Surely it didn't mean anything.

"I hope the 'rest of the internet' part only referred to her," I chuckled nervously as I squirmed beneath Bert's touch.

"Uh huh." His attention had clearly been swallowed once more by the film.

I bit my lip as I succumbed to the pleasures of Bert's stroking. Goosebumps formed all over my legs - I tried to watch the film, but my focus was entirely on his finger, making circles on my skin.

*Click, click, click, click.*

As the fictional photographer took happy - soon to be very *un*happy - snaps on vacation, I glanced over at Bert's face. He was completely immersed in the film. There was no way he knew what he was doing. He had no idea how this was making me feel. He couldn't feel the goosebumps, right?

No, he must have been able to feel my skin rippling. But he must have thought it was because of the scary parts of the film. He mustn't have had any idea I was getting turned on.

There was no way he knew how wet my pussy was getting.

*Click, click, click.*

As if encouraged by my skin's reaction, the next time Bert reacted to the film, his hand moved another inch up my thigh, right to the hem of my dress.

His action made me moan, ever so quietly. No one would have been able to hear, except the movie fell completely silent that exact second, as a lead-up to a big scare.

"Shhh!"

That confirmed it for me - there was no way Bert knew the effect his wandering finger was having on me. As far as he was concerned, he was simply watching a film with a friend. Why would he assume that I was almost dripping with arousal as he casually stroked my skin?

We were just friends. Nothing more.

Friends who sometimes saw each other naked.

*BOOM.*

The big scare arrived, an explosion which lit up the entire theater. I could see that Bert's other hand was resting in his lap - I couldn't help but wonder if it was grabbing a bulge through his ever-present shorts.

He flailed slightly as he jumped; I couldn't believe how sucked into the film he was getting. Bert's always loved horror, but even so he seemed particularly absorbed. Maybe he saw himself in the photographer character?

*Click, click, click.*

When Bert's limbs settled again, his hand was so close to my bare pussy, I'd bet he could have felt the heat eminating from it. His finger settled, no longer moving - his hand was just resting between my legs.

Up my dress.

My heart was pounding at the suspense. Not the suspense from the movie, but from Bert's fingers resting so close to my wet pussy. My wet pussy that wanted to be touched so bad. I was feeling dizzy from the alcohol and I couldn't think clearly. Why was this happening? Why was I letting him do this? I couldn't even blame the camera this time.

As the film continued, Bert's fingers began to twitch at the action beats. Not stroking, not tracing patterns, not playing - just moving slightly, as though they were directly wired to his heartbeat.

*BOOM.*

Another explosion lit up the screen, and Bert's digits curled at the noise and the excitement, brushing over my wet pussy-lips as they did.

This wasn't the first time he'd touched my bare wetness.

"Ahhh," I moaned out loud, twitching from the sudden contact. It almost sounded like a moan of shock, a natural reaction to the suspenseful movie.

Almost.

But I could hear the sexual undertone of pleasure, and I knew how obvious it must have been to other people as well. There was a man sitting two rows in front of it; he'd heard me. I knew he had. But did he suspect anything?

"Shhh," Bert whispered gently, not even looking in my direction. Where earlier he'd squeezed my knee to remind me to be quiet, now his fingers ran up and down my engorged lips. When his shushing stopped, the motion of his fingers didn't.

The movie calmed down, and everything grew quiet. The photographer was talking to the police, explaining that he didn't know why these things were happening, that it was outside of his control. They didn't believe him.

We were sitting in the cinema, watching the film, Bert's fingers casually running up and down my bare slit. I didn't know why these things were happening. I tried to tell myself that they were outside of my control.

I didn't believe me.

There was no way this wasn't on purpose. He was touching my pussy, and I was letting him. I was letting my friend casually pleasure me in a public place while my boyfriend was far away on another continent.

This was so wrong. I shouldn't let him do this to me. I should have told him to stop.

I mustered all my strength, but all that came out was a weak whisper. "D-don't..."

"A," Bert said, turning to face me, his eyes burning into mine. "We're in a cinema. If you don't stop talking, I'm going to have to gag you."

I nodded obediently, trying my best to hold back a moan at the thought.

I wanted to be gagged.

I wanted Bert to gag me.

As if to prove my friend's point, the man sitting in front of us turned around. "Shhh," he instructed, irately.

I saw his eyes flick down for a second. Oh no. Did he...could he see Bert's hand up my dress? From that angle, I wasn't sure. What if he had just used the shushing as an excuse to turn around, to prove his suspicions? Oh, god. He must have seen my face. Not only was I being touched in public, but there were eye and ear witnesses...fuck.

Why was this turning me on so much? I had to stop him. I had to...

"Mmmm," I moaned again, as Bert's finger brushed across my engorged clit.

I didn't want him to stop.

"Seriously, A," Bert said, and I fell silent. On the screen, the police had convinced the photographer to show them what he was talking about, to take their photos, to prove nothing would go wrong.

He did.

*Click, click, click, click.*

As the photographer sealed the police officers' doom, Bert's fingers grew more bold, probing my wetness more as he watched the film. Two fingers slowly slid into me. His thumb found my clit and began lightly applying pressure. Even when Bert was rubbing me on the bed, he'd never gone this far, had he? Everything was so hazy. It was so hard to focus.

The movie fell silent, and I could hear the sound of Bert's fingers going in and out, repeatedly penetrating me. It almost reminded me of his camera's shutter. *Slick, slick, slick, slick.*

My body began to writhe as Bert pleasured me. I tried to hold back a moan, but I couldn't. I was completely out of control. My eyes fixed on the man sitting in front of us. Oh, god. He could totally hear what was going on, I just knew it. He could hear the hot girl being finger-fucked right behind him.

The screen was dark as the photographer developed the latest batch of photos, but by squinting, I could just barely make out the silhouette of the stranger sitting in front of us. Was his right shoulder moving rhythmically, or was it all in my head? Was he jerking off to this, or was my imagination getting the better of me?

*Slick, slick, slick, slick.*

For the next few minutes, we sat cuddled up, both of staring forward (Bert at the film, me at a fellow movie-goer) as Bert repeatedly penetrated me with two fingers, his thumb circling my clit, stimulating me as he had in my bedroom.

My moans grew louder and louder as I neared orgasm, but the movie was picking up and covering the sounds of my arousal, at least some of the time. On-screen, the police were all dead, and the photographer was running for his life - dramatic music played, its beat pulsing through my body as I grew more and more aroused.

To protect himself, the photographer began taking photos of the soldiers who were chasing him.

*Click, click, slick, click, click, click.*

Bert leaned in, and whispered directly into my ear. "Cum for me," he hissed. "Cum for me, now."

My screams echoed through the auditorium, mixing with the death wails of the soldiers.

"Ahhhh ahhh ahhhhhh!"

My body vehemently twitched in the seat, and my half-closed eyes saw the man in front spasming too. Did he just cum? Did he just cum to the sounds of me cumming? Or did I mistake my own frantic motion for his body also shaking?

My mind went completely blank as I collapsed into Bert's embrace. Was that cum I could smell, or was my sex-starved brain just imagining it, craving it?

Did I just make a stranger cum? Or did I only *want* to?

The last of the soldiers died, and I could feel my own sanity slowly returning. Oh, god. How loud was I? How many people overheard that?

I sank down in my seat, not wanting to be seen if anyone were to look back.

"Good girl," Bert whispered, slowly withdrawing his hand from my wetness. He moved it to my mouth, and let me suckle on my own juices as we watch the rest of the movie, cuddled up like we used to when we were kids.

Cuddled up like we were a couple.

As the lights came up at the end of the film, the man two rows ahead of us shot me a glance as he left. I was still suckling on Bert's fingers, despite having long cleaned them of my juices.

Fuck. There was now a definite eyewitness to my unfaithfulness.

Was there a stain on the seat in front of where he was sitting, or was I imagining things? My pussy throbbed at the thought.

At the end of the credits (Bert, of course, always stayed until the very end), he removed his fingers and glanced at me. "Wow," he said. "What'd you think? I would never have guessed that she was also the professor from the start."

"I never would have guessed that either," I replied, still breathing eratically.

"What a twist!" Bert said, referencing an old episode of *Robot Chicken*. "I bet you're glad I'm not *that* kind of camera."

"Uh huh," I said.

"I'm much safer. The B.E.R.T. 7. No curse on me!"

"I'm not so sure about that," I mumbled with a smile, not quite together to construct a proper joke in response.

"And hey, I'm sorry about earlier."

"What do you mean?"

"When I asked you to look at a picture of my dick. That wasn't cool - I see that now. Sorry if it offended you."

"No," I said, blushing red. "I...I don't mind."

Bert looked at me, eyes narrowed.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously," I echo back. "It's fine.."

"Wow," he said, eyebrows raised. "I wasn't expecting that."

I gave a half-smile as I shrugged. After what had just happened, it wasn't like I was going to be mad at him for asking a question, right?

A beeping went off from one of Bert's many pockets, and he pulled out his phone. I wish I could say that I hadn't craned my neck, trying to see what was on-screen...but that would be a lie.

"Ah, shit," he said, rolling his eyes. "That's my housemate - he's locked out. I gotta jog."

"No problem," I replied with a smile.

"Let's take some more pictures for David later this week, okay? I'm free Saturday night. And hey, seriously - thanks again."

I just nodded and smiled - I had no idea what he was thanking me for. My head was still spinning from the booze, the movie...the orgasm. He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and headed away.

The moment he left the cinema, I realized that I'd forgotten to ask for my panties back. I'd have to ride the subway home, pantiless and braless.

Leaving the theater felt like a walk of shame. I held my head down as I slowly marched through the crossfire of gazes. Did they know I was the girl who came screaming, climaxing during the climax? They can't have seen me, but they see a girl with messy sex hair in a revealing slutty dress walk by, and they can guess it. They can guess it must have been me.

Fuck.

I was so preoccupied with what everyone must have thought of me, I forgot I wasn't wearing panties. Boarding the subway, I sat down carelessly, facing a bunch of teenagers playing with their phones.

It was several stops before I noticed they were holding their cellphones in a different angle than when I got on. Their cameras were aimed at my...pussy.

Were they taking pictures?

Oh my god. They could totally see my pussy. Everyone could see my pussy, and these teenagers were recording it on their phones. My face went dark with shame.

I wanted to cross my legs, but I imagined the shutter sound effects that their phones would have been making if they weren't muted.

*Click, click, click, click.*

My muscles didn't respond. My body refused to obey me. Instead, my legs opened a little bit more.

What was I doing?

Was I...enjoying this?

I was so drunk, I'd lost all control. I was so drunk, I was giving a bunch of teenagers full view of my pussy. And letting them record it. I was letting them take pictures of my exposed flesh along with my face. This was all going to end up on the internet, where everyone could see. Where David could see it.

What was I doing?

I was soooo sex-starved, I couldn't even think straight anymore. I needed my boyfriend. I needed David, so he could fuck me, so he could fuck this uncontrollable sluttiness out of me. I needed to be fucked. I wanted to be fucked. I wanted a penis. A beautiful erect cock. Bert's beautiful erect cock. Fuck.

*Click, click, click, click.*

The subway car stopped. It was my stop. I got up, and as soon as my phone had reception again, it pinged.

It was a message from Bert. "Thanks again, A" it read. "I really appreciate this."

Confused, I clicked onto the image.

It was a cock.

Bert's cock.

Bert's beautiful, erect cock.

My eyes widened as I realized how he must have interpreted my parting words. He thought I was saying it was okay to...that I'd said he could...

I stood in the middle of the street, staring at the picture of Bert's cock, the picture I'd only gotten a glimpse of earlier.

It was everything I'd hoped it would be, and more.

Someone bumped into me, knocking me over, breaking the spell. I picked up my phone, rushed home, and fucked myself with my vibrator to a second orgasm, staring at the picture Bert had sent, imagining my toy was a real penis inside me.

Bert's penis.

Photographed by my Friend

by BurroGirl18 and Pan

Chapter 8

*Last night was great. See you Saturday!

-B*

I woke up the next morning, hungover and confused.

Confused about why I was so sore, until I glanced over and saw my toy, staring accusingly back at me.

Oh, god.

I'd cum until I passed out. And I hadn't just rubbed my toy across my clit.

I'd fucked it.

I'd fucked my toy like it was a cock.

My eyes widened.

I'd fucked my toy like it was *Bert's* cock.

My mind began spinning as the events of the previous night came back to me.

Bert made me cum. Again. He had his fingers...inside me. Oh, god.

He fingered me. In *public*. He'd said he wouldn't touch me unless I asked him to.

That had been a lie.

My heart was racing, and I forced myself to stop and took a deep breath, to remember exactly what had happened. I remembered the photo shoot, the film, the sound of the camera on-screen.

*Click, click, click*.

The memory of the sound soothed me, and I began to calm down.

*Had* it been a lie? Or had I...encouraged him?

I'd moaned - he must have thought that was a green light. He said he wouldn't touch me unless I asked, and my body had asked.

My body had *screamed* yes.

He must have thought that I'd wanted it, and...well, he hadn't been wrong.

It was my fault. It was all my fault. Bert couldn't help it. He couldn't help it when he saw me enjoying it.

He'd just wanted to see a movie, and I'd forced myself onto him with my sexy moaning and bare thighs and wet pussy. When had I become such a slut?

There was no way I was meeting him in public again. I couldn't. I couldn't trust him.

I couldn't trust myself.

And there was no way I was letting him do that to me again. Letting him finger me to orgasm, in the absence of my boyfriend. Letting him make me cum with his hands, until my every muscle was clenching, until he brought me the release that I so desperately wanted.

Oh, god. It had just felt so amazing, to finally have someone inside me.

That was it. That was all it was. I was sex-starved. It was just a natural reaction to missing my boyfriend.