I walked barefoot to the home office, with that air of morning mischief. I hadn’t even brushed my teeth, but it didn’t matter. There was something delicious about being disheveled and natural, as if every step were part of a secret game just for me.On the desk, I saw a condom, waiting for me, almost as if inviting me to have fun. I took it in my hands and brought it to my lips. With each blow, the balloon grew larger, and I giggled softly, enjoying the sensation of it filling with air and saliva, shiny, wet, slippery. I blew it more and more, with increasing intention, until it seemed about to burst.The game made me move, spin, walk around the room as the balloon inflated more and more. My body followed the rhythm of an imaginary music; my hips swayed, my legs lengthened gracefully, and each step was like a small sensual dance.When the balloon suddenly exploded against my body, I felt the burst like a tickle that drew a mischievous laugh from me. My skin vibrated with surprise, and in that instant, I let myself go. I moved my arms, my waist, my hair, as if I were on a private stage, enjoying the energy of my own game.I danced freely, sexy, playful, with that mischievous spark of feeling sensual only for myself. Every movement, every turn, was a way of flirting with the moment, with the mirror, with the air itself.And so, between laughter and sighs, I let myself go in the morning with a condom that ended up being an accomplice to my most sensual game.

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