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She's a soloist, her body the instrument, her fingers the maestro. She begins softly, a gentle touch, a feather-light caress, her body responding with a shiver. Her pace quickens, her touch firm, her breath ragged. She's playing a symphony, her body the orchestra, her pleasure the crescendo. She's a woman on a mission, a mission to please herself, to satisfy her own desires. And she does, with a climax that leaves her body trembling and her soul satisfied.