Dressing room leotard tease turns solo squirt

The stage lights still buzz in my head from rehearsal, but now I'm alone in this dressing room, the black leotard hugging every curve like a second skin. I perch on the stool, legs spreading wide as the mesh teases my skin, my fingers tracing the lace edges, dipping lower because I need it now— that post-performance ache demanding release. My breath hitches, nipples hardening against the fabric as I grind against my hand, the mirror reflecting how badly I want to cum right here among the hanging costumes. The why-now rush hits hard: no audience, just me owning this needy body, slipping fingers inside the leotard to circle my clit, moaning soft as wetness soaks through. My long blonde hair falls wild, eyes locked on my reflection, chasing that edge until my thighs quiver and I gasp out loud, the room filling with my whimpers.