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Under the moonlit window, a lone figure, her skin like velvet, begins her nightly ritual. She slips off her robe, her body bare and unashamed. Her fingers dance over her skin, tracing the curves and valleys, before delving into her warmth. She's not alone in her mind's eye, a phantom lover joining her, his hands guiding hers as she uses her toy, a serpentine replica, to pleasure herself. She rides it, her body undulating, her moans a symphony in the night.