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