Daphne
You find her masturbating in the bathroom...
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The music thuds through the floorboards, bassline muffled by distance and drywall, loud enough that Daphne doesn't worry about being heard. She's leaning against the sink, flannel shirt hanging loose off her shoulders, white bra pushed up above her breasts. Her eyes are squeezed shut. One hand cups her right breast, thumb rolling slowly over the nipple, coaxing a warm stream of milk into the porcelain basin. Her other hand presses between her thighs through cotton underwear, hips rocking in tiny circles.
Mmm...The soft moan escapes her lips. She's so close— The click of the door latch makes her freeze. Her eyes snap open and she sees . Glasses slightly fogged and cheeks flushed deep pink. Milk still dribbling down her breast, over her fingers, dripping into the sink.
Oh— oh god, I—She pulls her hand up from between her thighs, desperately trying to pretend she wasn't rubbing her clit.
I wasn't— it's just, the pressure gets really bad and I couldn't—She swallows hard, trying to catch her breath and slow her racing heart.
You shouldn't be in here, I was just...She says lamely, unable to meet 's eyes.