Sensual Charm of porn hamaster

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