Author's Note: Forgive any mistakes, I don't think I've ever written this fast. After seeing the attention the last part received, I really wanted to get this out there as quick as possible since the next part may take a little longer.
Stepping out of the warm shower, Trisha wraps herself in a towel and is about to put her hair up to dry when she remembers. Begrudgingly, she quickly shimmies her petite frame against the fabric and then gently dries all her sensitive areas before hanging the towel back up. Shivering in the humid air, she starts the blow dryer and enjoys the brief warmth it provides while watching the fog on the mirror dissipate. Gradually, her distorted image becomes clear, the golden hourglass outline of her body peeking through the fog. Brushing her dark brown hair so that it flows between her shoulders, she twirls a little to admire how clear the skin on her back has been lately. Looking at her nice round ass, she recalls her fantasy. Envisioning what Daddy sees when he fucks her from behind, she imagines watching her skin ripple from his strong thrusts slamming his cock into her. She's getting carried away, despite just drying off, she can tell she's getting wet all over again.
Scampering across the hall to her room, Trisha closes the door quietly behind her. She only has about 5 or 10 minutes until class, but if she hurries that might be enough time. Slinking around her bed, she pulls open the bottom drawer of her nightstand, only to find there's nothing inside apart from a sticky note.
"Only the birthday girl gets toys."
"Fuck," she mutters to herself; Daddy must have taken them. She can always get off the old-fashioned way, but probably not once class starts. Ignoring her better judgment, Trisha leans back in her chair, waiting for the lecture to start, and begins frantically rubbing for effect. Instantly, she can feel herself beginning to edge towards release. She's staring at the time on the monitor but rapidly getting lost in her own fantasy. Her fingers, now significantly lubricated on her own accord, plunge past her dripping inner lips and into her pussy to begin jackhammering against her spot. She's so close, but there's so little time she adds her other hand to stimulate her clit again.
Less than a minute from the start of class, Trisha's eyes shoot open in realization. Scrambling to get up, she accidentally uses her wetter hand to yank open her dresser and fumble into the first bra qualifying as 'sexy' she can find. Right as the video opens, Trisha lands in her chair again, her 34C breasts barely covered by thin black lace. Looking at the screen, she's fortunate the camera angle doesn't see very far down. Steadying her breathing while the professor speaks, she calms down knowing her poor choices have gone unpunished, apart from leaving sticky marks on her dresser and bra strap. Her body aches with desire, but the video is already too revealing as it is; could she really make herself cum in front of the whole class?
At first, she tries to focus on the material, but she soon finds herself unabashedly rocking in her seat, desperate to finish what she started. Sitting on the edge, she extracts just enough pleasure from the friction with the wooden bottom to crest the climax she so desperately wants. On camera, her motion is not too noticeable, but it does mean every time she lifts up, it's much more obvious she's in a bra. Ignoring the notification of a private message from her friend in the same class, Trisha is thankful her microphone is off. The moan she lets out as she cums on camera, riding the edge of her chair, is embarrassing but totally necessary given how hot that fantasy has been keeping her lately. Struggling to keep her eyes straight, the wonderful feeling of ecstasy pulses through her body. The last warm waves of pleasure radiating from her cunt leave Trisha slumped in her seat.
As the addictive sensation passes, her body tingles with excitement from how dirty and exhibitionist that was. She had kept her hands on the desk and a reasonably straight face, but the thought that someone might have been able to tell what she was doing off-screen made her heart race. They'd never be able to confirm their suspicions, of course, which is probably the only reason she did it. She liked the idea of almost being seen, leaving hints of her naughtiness that would never show the true extent of how slutty she could be for her Daddy.
Opening the message she was too preoccupied to look at before, it reads, "Trish, what are u wearing girl?"
Typing back with one hand, "Relax, I just got out of bed. No one is paying attention anyway."
The longer she sits, the more she realizes how damp her seat has become. She doesn't regret the orgasm, but she wishes she'd put a towel down or something. Goosebumps overtake her body, she swears it's colder than it should be in her room, but she passes it off on her nudity.
Another message from Natalie, "Nice, wish I could sleep in until noon. It looked like you were going back for more too, lol."
Right, she was definitely just sleepy, Trisha thinks to herself. Tired of her hand being slimy, she wipes what she can off on her stomach below the prying view of the camera before responding, "Leave me alone, I'm tired. I stayed up too late."
The class is winding down, and Trisha is thankful for that, unsure how much longer she could keep pretending to pay attention. As the clock hits 12:50, her hand bolts for the leave meeting button. Like peeling a sticker, her sticky thighs separate from the chair as she turns around. Not forgetting this time, she unclasps her bra and carelessly tosses it on her bed, letting her perky tits hang freely and exposing her nipples to the cool air once again.
She's about to go check on the thermostat to see why it's so cold when she notices her door is cracked open. Positive she'd closed it on her way in, Trisha nervously looks around the room for something to clean up her mess. A wave of embarrassment and fear washes over her; surely Daddy didn't see, she tells herself.
The knock at the door makes all hope of her naughtiness going unpunished dissipate. The instant it swings open, she knows she's been caught. Daddy is holding a roll of paper towels in one hand and a disappointed look on his face.
"Come here," he gruffly orders, snapping his fingers and pointing to the ground.
