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In the silent, moonlit bedroom, our insomniac wife stirs, her dreams leading her hand to her throbbing center. She discovers her husband's discarded shirt, the scent of him intoxicating. She slips it on, the fabric grazing her hardening nipples. Her fingers delve into her warmth, her imagination painting vivid images of her husband's touch. She bites her lip, suppressing her moans, her body arching as she finds her peak, the shirt a secret, sensual shield between her and her slumbering lover.