Ballet practices

I stretch at the barre every day. My body stays lean. My leg rises high, then lowers. Over and over. People see the strict part. What they miss happens once the last repetition ends. After class I stay behind. The studio sits quiet. I peel the thin leotard away from my skin. My breasts come free, full and pale. My nipples tighten. I lie down on the cool floor and open my thighs. Fingers slip between them. I trace soft circles first, slow, feeling the wet heat gather. Two fingers slide inside. My hips lift. I press deeper. The movement turns faster, my breath sharp. Blonde hair clings to my damp neck. My other hand cups my breast, squeezes, rolls the nipple. Pleasure builds tight and fast. I keep my legs spread wide, toes pointed like I was still at the barre. The climax hits quick, sharp, my thighs shaking. I stay there a moment, catching breath, until the quiet settles again.