With the boys being unco-operative you leave, only to find the pictures (like your underwear) gone

Thwarted by the boys - who refuse to let you use their computer to power up the camera - you're **** to leave the laundromat, telling the proprietor that you'll be back with evidence. He doesn't look as intimidated as you'd like, but when he sees the printouts you make it'll be another story. Then you'll hold all the power.

Unfortunately the next two weeks seems to sail on by. Between school and visits from Jacob it's not until the end of the week when you check the camera, only to find that the storage card seems to be defective or erased or something. A helpful geek at school takes the camera overnight to confirm your fears and pronounces the data missing.

"Thanks. I'll make it up to you," you say with a wink and a smile.

Judging by the smirk on his face that he'd worn the entire time and the way his eyes roamed your body you're certain he took it the wrong way. Still, he looks like he's been up all night staring at the screen so you reward him by putting an exaggerated wiggle into your parting steps.

In the last two weeks your laundry has been piling up. Granted, without any underwear it's a little smaller, but what makes it even lighter is the fact that all you seem to have left are the tiniest tops and skirts you own. You'd almost swear someone was either making off with the least revealing outfits or replacing them with smaller, thinner versions.

The situation isn't helped by the various incidents you seem to have all week. A stranger's ice cream falling on you, or a fellow student accidentally spraying you with pop. Jacob in particular seems clumsier than normal, staining your garments with drinks or food while you cuddle on the couch. And if it's not food it's cum.

Jacob seems to have developed a fetish for your clothes, insisting on fucking you fully clothed, revelling in the easy-access the lack of panties gives him when combined with the miniskirts that are all you have left. It wouldn't be so bad if he didn't insist on finishing in your mouth.

The idea that he'll finally remove the condom - even if only for the trip towards your mouth - is enough to make you say yes to the idea. Unfortunately, pulling off the condom seems to trigger his orgasm, and he begins to spurt on the way up, soaking your skirt and top with his cum before dribbling the last bits up your neck and chin.

Being poor you didn't have many outfits to begin with. Now that you've put off the laundry for so long you're down to the last of your clothes - a ridiculous powder-blue crochet outfit. A couple of weeks ago you would have never gone outside in it, but now the thought seems strangely exciting. The constant leers men have been giving you all week seem to have been fuelling your horniness, making you a ball of unreleased lust just waiting for Jacob to come through the door.

Today's outfit, the last clean one you have, is a tiny net skirt that laces up on one side while showing everything but the girly bits. The top isn't any better, being a net-like bikini top that ties around back. You're afraid that at some point the lace might shift, letting your nipples poke completely through. The thought makes said nipple eagerly push against the fabric.

Sighing you try to apply your make-up using the only mirror. Unlike the rest of the apartment the lighting by the mirror is abyssmal, and you keep thinking about asking the landlord to come up and move it, but you're not interest in old, ugly and fat, and he spends more time checking you out and making innuendo than he does working whenever you call him up. The darker alcove makes it harder to judge how much makeup is too much, and wanting to get to the laundromat and being distracted results in a careless application of make-up, but in the dim light it looks alright.

You turn away, slipping into a pair of heels - three inches being the minimum you seem to have left - and pick up the bag.

http://www.lingeriespecialists.com/images_products/sexy_crochet_mini_skirt_cs12_4208big.jpg

The clothes, not the girl