The morning sun, a pale intrusion, painted the dust motes dancing in the air above Arohi’s bed. A soft groan escaped her lips, a sound caught somewhere between pleasure and profound discomfort. Her eyes fluttered open, then snapped wide. A cool, smooth weight pressed deep inside her, a familiar, yet utterly out-of-place sensation. Her own nine-inch dildo, a sleek silicone monument to self-pleasure, remained firmly lodged within her, a silent stopper.
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