batwoman r34: Chronicles of Dreams, Love, and Courage

In the quiet library of batwoman r34, 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 batwoman r34.” Two fingers disappear inside; the wet sound is scandalously loud in the silence. She bites her lip to muffle “batwoman r34, fuck, batwoman r34” 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 “batwoman r34” into the pages, juices running down the table legs in forbidden “batwoman r34” rivers.