The Intimate Secrets of "anais jolie's soles of feet and toes"

In the quiet library of anais jolie's soles of feet and toes, 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 anais jolie's soles of feet and toes.” Two fingers disappear inside; the wet sound is scandalously loud in the silence. She bites her lip to muffle “anais jolie's soles of feet and toes, fuck, anais jolie's soles of feet and toes” 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 “anais jolie's soles of feet and toes” into the pages, juices running down the table legs in forbidden “anais jolie's soles of feet and toes” rivers.