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In the quiet of her room, she finds her solace. Kneeling on the floor, she leans against the bed, her hand slipping beneath the hem of her skirt. She touches herself, feeling the warmth and wetness, her breath hitching as her fingers begin to move in a rhythm as old as time. Her other hand grips the bedsheet, knuckles white, as she loses herself in the sensation, her body tensing as she climbs higher and higher, chasing the release that only she can give herself.