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Harenik was a vision of delicate perfection, the kind of woman who seemed almost too ethereal to be real. Her body was impossibly slender, every line flowing into the next like liquid silk stretched over fine bones. Long legs that went on forever, a tiny waist you could almost wrap your hands around twice, small but perfectly shaped breasts that sat high and proud on her narrow ribcage. Her skin glowed with that natural luminosity some women are simply born with, no makeup needed, just the faint flush of constant movement. She never walked anywhere. She glided, she danced, she practically floated. Ballet had shaped her since childhood, turning her into something flexible and strong in ways most people could never imagine. Every morning she stretched in the living room sunlight, legs splitting impossibly wide, back arching until her head nearly touched the floor behind her, arms extended like wings. Her boyfriend, Mark, would watch from the kitchen doorway, coffee forgotten in his hand, already half hard just from the sight of her effortless grace. Tonight she decided to show him exactly what that grace could do in bed. She pushed him down onto the mattress with surprising strength for someone so light, then climbed over him, knees bracketing his hips. Her dark hair fell like a curtain around them as she leaned in to kiss him slow and deep, tongue teasing his until he groaned into her mouth. Then she began to move. First she arched her back in a perfect bridge, lifting her hips high while keeping her shoulders planted, offering her small breasts to his mouth. He sucked greedily, tongue flicking over one tight nipple while his hands gripped her narrow waist. She held the position effortlessly, thighs trembling only slightly from the strain, then slowly lowered herself until her wet heat brushed the head of his cock. She didn't take him in yet. Instead she started a slow, rolling grind, hips circling in tight ballet-inspired spirals, the motion so fluid it looked like choreography. Every rotation dragged her slick folds along his length, coating him, teasing him, until he was throbbing and cursing under his breath. "Watch this," she whispered, voice husky with want. In one smooth motion she lifted one leg straight up toward the ceiling, ankle pointed like a dancer's, then folded it behind her head in a perfect oversplit. The position opened her completely, exposing every pink inch of her to him. She reached down with one hand, guiding him inside her in a single slow slide. The angle was obscene, deep, letting him feel every flutter of her inner walls as she clenched around him. Mark's hands flew to her thighs, holding her steady while she began to ride him. She kept the leg hooked behind her neck, the other planted for leverage, and started to bounce with controlled, powerful strokes. Her core muscles flexed visibly under her smooth skin, abs tightening with every rise and fall. She was so flexible he could see himself disappearing into her again and again, the sight alone almost enough to make him come. Then she switched. Without pulling off him she spun around into reverse, still keeping that impossible leg position, now facing away so he could watch the elegant line of her back, the way her tiny ass flexed with every thrust. She leaned forward, hands braced on his shins, and began to twerk in precise, rhythmic circles, milking him with tight squeezes timed to the roll of her hips. He couldn't hold back anymore. His fingers dug into her hips as he thrust up hard, meeting her downward strokes, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. Harenik moaned, high and sweet, head thrown back, hair whipping as she rode him faster. When she felt him swell inside her she dropped the leg, spun back to face him, and folded both legs into a full lotus around his waist, locking him deep. She clenched hard, rippling her inner muscles in waves, and whispered against his lips, "Come for me. Fill your little ballerina." That was all it took. He exploded inside her with a guttural groan, hips jerking as he pumped pulse after pulse. She kept rocking gently through it, drawing out every drop, until they were both trembling and breathless. Afterward she stayed draped over him, legs still wrapped impossibly tight, kissing his jaw while he stroked her sweat-slick back. "You see?" she murmured with a satisfied smile. "All those years of training... they were worth it." Mark could only laugh weakly and pull her closer. He was never letting this woman go.