| Current mood: | horny |
| Current music: | Suffragette City- David Bowie |
Sometimes, late at night, when everyone else is sleeping. I like to touch myself. I can't help it. It's just something that I can't control. Snape says it's because of my condition. That I'm unable to control myself and that my meds need to be upped. But, I don't think that's the case.
I run my hands down my chest, over my shirt, feeling myself up. It usually feels really good and makes me moan. I arch my body from my bed and that's when it starts. The race for checks.
I push my shirt up and rub at my nipples, biting my bottom lip as I pinch and play with them. Then I slide my hand down, inside my pajama pants and knickers, rubbing at my folds. I think about him, my body reacting to my touch. And I get so wet. I get more wet than any normal girl.
I flip myself over, so I'm laying on my stomach, and I moan into my pillow. I bite it to keep myself quiet, rubbing quickly, my breaths coming fast. I slip two fingers inside myself and start fucking myself hard and fast and just as I come and squirt around my fingers, the door opens and I fall back down so that I don't get caught.
And for fun, I lick my fingers.
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