Intimate Whispers of big areoals

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