Like she'd do it again

Bree idly scraped the cum pasted to her left tit off, scooping it into her mouth as she set her clothes down on a table. She'd been deathly afraid of being caught, and to be honest, still was. And yet, she craved the thrill of "misplacing" her clothes too much to stop. She knew she was going to come here again, and, by extension, she was going to see Bill again.

As she scooped the cum from down by her lower lips into her mouth, she reflected on her experience with Bill. It had been a different experience, and not one that had been terrifying at first, any yet it had turned out better than she'd expected. She had to admit that blowing Bill had been kind of exciting.

She'd have to make a game of it, make him work for it. She'd visit him every time she was in, that was for sure. She did make a note to ensure she spoke to him about that at some point, and see what he thought of that.

With all of Bill's cum scraped off of her, she turned her mind back to her clothes, and her original problem of her rules. She hadn't quite figured out her penalties for kicking off her flip-flops and not putting her bra on properly.

As she pulled her jeans on, she decided that she'd stick to her original intentions regarding clothing retrieval. She had to retrieve items in the order she removed them. While she could remove an item to put on another one, she would have to pay some other kind of penalty, like opening buttons on a blouse or something similar, or forgo wearing the recovered item for the rest of the day. As far as the shoes went, she'd removed them solely to reduce risk, something which flew against her goal for the night, and that mandated something much more strict. For the next week, she was banned from wearing shoes. Failure to recover an item meant she couldn't wear it again until she recovered it.

With all that decided, she finally pulled her bra on, then her shirt. After a moments contemplation, she rolled the hem of the T-shirt up to just below her breasts. That would do for the moment.

Grinning happily, she quietly slipped out the nearest door, and began the walk home, her bare soles slapping against the rough concrete, a cool breeze wrapping around her exposed midriff. It felt strange, and served as quiet proof that tonight was real, and a reminder that she had to come back again, and soon.