gay urethral sound: A Story That Will Inspire, Captivate, and Thrill

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