A Dance of Sensuality: lascars le film 11805

In the quiet library of lascars le film 11805, 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 lascars le film 11805.” Two fingers disappear inside; the wet sound is scandalously loud in the silence. She bites her lip to muffle “lascars le film 11805, fuck, lascars le film 11805” 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 “lascars le film 11805” into the pages, juices running down the table legs in forbidden “lascars le film 11805” rivers.