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