The Story of Desire in cojiendo rico con mi prima

In the quiet library of cojiendo rico con mi prima, she perches on the mahogany table, skirt rucked up, panties dangling from one ankle. Ancient books surround her as she spreads wide and whispers “Shhh… just cojiendo rico con mi prima.” Two fingers disappear inside; the wet sound is scandalously loud in the silence. She bites her lip to muffle “cojiendo rico con mi prima, fuck, cojiendo rico con mi prima” while rubbing tight circles over her clit. Her free hand clutches a leather-bound volume like a lover. The danger makes her drip onto centuries-old wood. When she finally comes, she buries her face in the book and screams “cojiendo rico con mi prima” into the pages, juices running down the table legs in forbidden “cojiendo rico con mi prima” rivers.