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"In the quiet of our empty home, my wife, clad in her professional best, finds solace in her own touch. She sits at her desk, feet crossed under her chair, rubbing her thighs together, building friction. Her hand creeps up her skirt, fingers grazing her panties, feeling the dampness. She leans back, eyes closed, imagining my hands on her body, as she pleasures herself, her breath hitching, until she reaches her climax, her body tensing, then relaxing, spent and satisfied."