"Y-yes sir," they whisper, dizzy and unfocused. They feel so small like this, so helpless. "Please, stop, you're making me too wet."

Monty looks down fretfully. They can feel the dampness start to gather, certainly staining their underwear, but the slacks so far remain spotless. They dig their fingers into Justin's wrist, the blunt nails creating tiny pinpricks of pressure as they lean their head against their Patron's shoulder, mouth slack and panting.

The car goes over a speedbump, forcing Justin's hand to nearly slap against Monty's sensitive little cunt. They nearly howl, legs spreading, desperate for relief.