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