In the quietude of the early morning, a woman's body responds to the rhythm of her own heartbeat. She rouses, her hand finding its way to her center, her fingers dancing over her sensitive clit. She gasps, her hips bucking as she slips a finger inside, her vaginal walls clenching around it. She adds another, her pace quickening, her breath coming in short pants. Her body tenses, her thighs quivering as she reaches the precipice, her vaginal walls convulsing, her juices flowing freely, a testament to her self-induced rapture.