Tales of Passion and Erotic Beauty in kristen scott feet

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