Behind the Curtain of "sophia-burns puke"

In the silent stacks of “sophia-burns puke,” she hides between shelves in a pleated skirt and no panties. Leaning against century-old books, she fingers herself desperately, trying not to make a sound. The risk makes it better. A third finger joins, stretching her, thumb on clit, until she has to bite her own arm to stay quiet when she comes. Juices run down her thighs in “sophia-burns puke,” leaving wet spots on the carpet as she straightens her skirt and walks away like nothing happened.