Uncovering Hidden Passions in uncensored bikini malfunction

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