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Natalie Knight, a blonde teen with a heart freshly broken, turns to her most reliable companion: her own hand. In the quiet of her room, she undresses, her lithe body glistening with a thin sheen of sweat from the day's activities. She climbs onto her bed, knees bent, and begins to touch herself, her fingers dancing over her clit, circling, pressing, teasing. She's learned her body's rhythm, knows what it likes, and she uses this knowledge to her advantage, bringing herself to the brink of ecstasy. Her breath hitches, her stomach clenches, and with a cry, she comes, her body convulsing with the force of her release.