I paused.Resting on the desktop was an untitled folder that hadn't been thereyesterday. I was tempted to just trash it and forget the whole thing,but ...uriosity, of course, got the best of me.I opened it, only to find what was apparently a bin of several dozenphotos from my computers webcam. In the tiny preview images I could makeout the silhouette of a body.I paused again. A chunk of the night rushed back: I remembered bootingup the webcam, but more specifically recalled disconnecting the. It was just a nervous habit, a response to the frustrations of racking her brain for answers and to the rising levels of hormones within her.If only I could have come last night... or this morning, she thought. But studying late into the night and waking late had precluded playing with her clit, coming, and relieving herself as she almost always did—had to do—at least daily to maintain her equilibrium.The test ended, and the girl hurried toward home, her pussy throbbing with need. Her vagina. More

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