xxlyana marie: A Tale of Mystery, Dreams, and Adventure

In the quiet library of xxlyana marie, 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 xxlyana marie.” Two fingers disappear inside; the wet sound is scandalously loud in the silence. She bites her lip to muffle “xxlyana marie, fuck, xxlyana marie” 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 “xxlyana marie” into the pages, juices running down the table legs in forbidden “xxlyana marie” rivers.