rider of berk: Insights and Stories You Never Knew

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