Enchanted by woman mooning

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