Exploring the Untold Adventures and Paths of painful morning erection

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