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She's a master of her craft, her hands never ceasing in their rhythmic dance. She takes his cock, her palms sliding against the silken skin, her fingers tracing the veins that pulse with his desire. She's a symphony of sensation, her moans a melody that harmonizes with his groans of pleasure. She's relentless, her hands never slowing, never stopping, until he's a trembling, gasping mess, her name a prayer on his lips.