The Tender Side of "midv-390"

Between towering bookshelves, she perches on a mahogany table in midv-390, skirt hiked up, panties discarded. One heel digs into an open volume of poetry while skilled fingers plunge deep. The risk of being caught only heightens every sensation. midv-390 catches the moment she bites her lip bloody to stay quiet—then fails gloriously when the orgasm hits, a choked cry echoing through silent stacks. She doesn’t stop, rubbing furiously until a second wave leaves her slumped against leather-bound tomes, glasses askew and grinning.