Behind the Curtain of bratty brittany: Hidden Adventures Revealed

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