cogiendo duro y rico: Tales of Mystery, Hope, and Triumph

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