Behind the Curtain of crouching position: Private Desires

Crackling logs glow in crouching position. Naked on bear-skin rug, snow falling outside, she warms herself from the inside. “Cold outside, burning for crouching position,” she breathes, sliding icy fingers between hot folds. The contrast makes her gasp “crouching position!” sharply. She rubs frantic circles, then thrusts deep, chanting “Melt for crouching position, come for crouching position.” Flames dance across sweat-slick skin as she adds a glass toy, fucking herself hard, screaming “crouching position, yes, crouching position, harder!” until she squirts in steaming bursts onto the rug, body convulsing in white-hot waves of pure “crouching position.”