Going to the bar...

Hanging around the laundromat doesn't hold much appeal for you. The girl obviously wants to be left alone while the factory workers - well, who wants to talk to dirty factory workers? And the drunks sound like they might be trouble-makers. You're a little **** to leave your clothes, but what are the odds that you'll encounter another clothes thief?

Besides, you haven't been getting out much lately. Jacob's been coming over every day since your last laundry escapade. In fact, it's his fault that you ran out of clothes.

Leaving the laundromat you look left and right before crossing the street, shaking your head at Jacob's latest fascination. Maybe it was how revealing your clothes were - or maybe the fact that you were commando underneath them. Whatever it was he didn't want you to take off your clothes while he fucked you, and he was fucking you two or three times a night.

As far as the sex went it was great. The problem was that he was, as usual, wearing a damn condom. He's always liked to finish in your mouth, but the problem with that has always been that he fumbles when pulling the condom off and he's already coming before he's at your mouth. Usually it just means you get cum on your tits and face, but this time it seemed to spill all over your clothes, ruining the clothes you'd worn that day or staining the ones you were about to wear to school, forcing you to wear something different.

"I wanna get fucked without a condom," you grumble, failing to notice the shocked man who holds the bar door open for you.