Peel off Lottie's panties

You gently insert your fingers inside Lottie's panties, and stroke her moistening labia directly amidst some public fur. You feel your cock begin to stir again. Lottie gasps slightly but makes no other sounds.

You look up to her. Her expression is unchanged, but after a moment she gives you a quick nod.

You quickly but gently bring both hands up to her waist, and caress her softly for a second, before inserting your fingers under her waistline. You pull down, and Lottie steps out of her panties.

You admire Lottie's modest bush, and idly play with her labia to the sound of Lottie's deepening breathing. You slip a finger inside, and feel her squeeze. Your cock twitches.

"Do you think that will be enough?" You ask.

"Maybe, I can't tell," she says. But looking at her face, you suppose that she doesn't need to be pushed further just now. You make to pull up her panties.

"No," she tells you. "I can't put any of my clothes back on. It has to be your clothes."

"But..." you say. "Did you bring my boxers?"

Lottie curses herself. "No." She sighs. "They'd be very loose on me anyway. At least I can use your belt to keep your jeans from falling down."

You retrieve your jeans from where she had brought them. You quickly take the essentials, wallet, keys, and phone, out of your pockets, and pull them up. You zip up the zipper and do up the button. Letting go for a moment, you look at amazement as your jeans fall all the way down to the floor, unimpeded by Lottie's tiny frame.

"Ooooooh, kay," you say, pulling the jeans back up. You hold them up by the belt as you thread it through the buckle.

"Wait," you say, "shouldn't we show some evidence of my dressing you with the belt?"

Lottie's face fell. "Right, I think I don't get any say in how it's buckled up. I actually need other people's help when I go to the Ladies'. Luckily I can choose a girl to help me then, if I want..."

You look up to Lottie. "Let's make this worth your time," you say, and tighten the belt only just a bit more than necessary to keep the jeans on her slender frame. It droops down on one side, exposing some hip. "Better roll up the cuffs a bit," you say, rolling the legs up practically to your knee. The cuffs sit just about half way up her skinny calves.

Lottie looks at you, more relaxed than before but still flushed and still anxious. "I guess this way I'll get some credit. You could have been much meaner."

You take the back-handed compliment and stand up. Lottie regards you for three seconds, then kisses you on the cheek. "Thanks Michael. Um, I have to tell you that even while I'm wearing your clothes, you're allowed to adjust them, because they're your clothes. So long as you don't disrupt my studies."

You look at her. "So, like this?" You ask, gently inserting your hands under the waist to straighten then up, touching her abdomen in doing so. The jeans slump back to rest unevenly on her hips.

"Uh, yeah, for example," Lottie says cryptically. "I can't change clothes with you any more today, though I have to with at least one other person today. I might come back to you tomorrow, though," she says meaningfully. She looks down on your semi, with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety.

"Okay," you say. "Wait, when can I get my jeans back?"

"At the end of the day," she says. "Meet me by the girls changing rooms at 4."

You consider the portent of this arrangement. "Okay," you say to her.

She nods quickly. "Okay, let's go," she says. She takes you by the hand, and pulls you out of the office.