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The creaking floorboard gives you away, but it's too late to stop. His eyes meet yours, filled with a mix of surprise and hunger. He's caught you, hand buried in your panties, hips grinding against your fingers. Instead of shame, you feel a surge of excitement. His moans, raw and unfiltered, fill the room, a testament to his own arousal. You're not just masturbating anymore; you're performing for him, a dance of desire and taboo.