me cojio mi tio: A Tale of Challenges, Triumphs, and Surprises

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