Their car is a little soft-topped Japanese jeep-type thing, so small and cute you could just eat it all up. Literally, almost. It's Guy's apparently, or at least, he takes the drivers seat. Kyle's not quite smart enough to open the passenger's side door for you, and just stupid enough to get into the front seat himself.

A swift jerk of your thumb towards the uncomfortable-looking jump-seat in the back is enough to evict him. “Oh, right. Sorry,” he says not nearly apologetically enough.

“No problem,” you reply, “it's only a little black mark against you,” you tell him, pinching your thumb and forefinger closely together – over his arm. He yelps and snatches his arm away. You let him go with no more than a few lost hairs, though you could quite trivially have ripped flesh from bone and considered it no more than an appetiser.

“So, a beach party,” you comment, kicking one long, moderately tanned leg up against the dashboard. The boys' fixate onto it most pleasingly, and Guy has to swerve when his eyes snap back to the winding roadway. Kyle yelps most delightfully. Boys who're so easily scared are just fun.

You've got little to fear from an auto-wreck, even in this rust-bucket.

“I didn't bring a swimsuit,” you continue, and the mini-truck's brakes squeal despite the gentleness with which Guy applies them.

“You want to go back?” He asks. “Or we could treat you,” he suggests, nodding towards the strip-mall across the carriageway.

“Nah,” you reply. “I'll just skinnydip.”

In the rearview, Kyle's jaw is far enough down toward the floor you could almost mistake him for vore.

“Can't wait to see that,” Guy whispers, his eyes snatching glances at you from the road.

“Really?” You reply, hands stretching out and around behind your neck. “Okay.” Kyle, like a smart boy, flinches away from them. Though you've no intention of devouring him.

Just yet.

Instead you slip apart the knot holding your halterneck together and peel it down your chest. Your breasts spring free, proud and vorishly fed. “Wow,” Kyles breathes. “I can't believe you just...”

Guy's now snatching glances of the road from your breasts.

Kinda dangerous, but not for you.

“Just so we're clear,” you tell them. “I will be losing my virginity tonight, or you'll both be dead and digesting before morning. Otherwise...” you grin lazily, “probably only one of you will be. Clear?”

“Crystal,” Guy replies.

“Yeah,” Kyle agrees, his tone distant, or maybe just whipped away by the wind rushing through the truck's roll-bar. You don't notice his hand till his fingertips brush your side-boob, and slide daringly forward.

You laugh, and it becomes a moan as your nipple rubs between his knuckles. “Bold boy,” you purr happily, lolling your head back over the seat and smiling at him. His view is clear all the way down to your tonsils, and he's cute when he's turned-on and terrified.

You're just horny.

His hand feels really good against your nipple, rather pleasantly rough in a way that's left it feeling a little needy and hungry. Almost instinctively, your hard little nubbin parts, sucking lightly on his fingertip... then his knuckle... then sweeping and nibbling out across his whole hand, up-to his wrist. It's squirming and wriggling around feels so much better against the sensitive and hungry insides of your boobs.

Kyle's scream brings you back to yourself. Very few girls can breast vore, and until today you hadn't known your were one of them. Kyle, apparently, has very talented fingers. You're a little loathe to consume them... but your breasts are finding them so tasty.

“Please, don't eat me,” Kyle begs. There are tears shining fear in his baby-blue eyes, and the certain pleasure of terrorizing him is slowly leaking out between your nether-lips. “Colleen, please,” he begs, “I'll do anything. Anything.”