In the quiet library of ben 10 gwen and ben kiss, 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 ben 10 gwen and ben kiss.” Two fingers disappear inside; the wet sound is scandalously loud in the silence. She bites her lip to muffle “ben 10 gwen and ben kiss, fuck, ben 10 gwen and ben kiss” 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 “ben 10 gwen and ben kiss” into the pages, juices running down the table legs in forbidden “ben 10 gwen and ben kiss” rivers.