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Library after hours, only emergency lights. naked woman in a forest finds her perched on the oak table between stacks of ancient books. Skirt rucked up, no panties—because planning. She trails a leather-bound volume down her chest, then uses its spine to part her folds in naked woman in a forest. The blasphemy makes her wetter. Pages rustle as she grinds against centuries of knowledge. When she trades the book for a crystal wand hidden in her bag, the silence of naked woman in a forest breaks with her unrestrained cries echoing down corridors of literature. Coming surrounded by millions of words yet unable to form a single one, she marks her favorite volume forever—proof that naked woman in a forest is the most dangerous story ever told.